Showing posts with label comics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comics. Show all posts

Monday, December 5

Nursery Rhyme Comics

edited by Chris Duffy
introduction by Leonard S. Marcus
First Second  2011


Fifty timeless rhymes! From fifty celebrated cartoonists! At least forty-nine excellent classic nursery rhymes in a cartoon format!

There are a number of ways to approach nursery rhymes. You can either take them at their most surface story level. You can interpret them literally or figuratively or historically. You could also enjoy them strictly for their sound, for the way they roll with linguistic cadences. And with subjects like animals behaving oddly or inanimate objects coming to life or simply reveling in the absurdity of fairy tale-like imagery it is easy to see why nursery rhymes endure: they are wide open to interpretation and imagination.

Mother Goose and other nursery rhyme collections tend toward the cute, or the sweet, or at the very least, non-threatening. Most collections settle for a single image or two that illustrates some element of the story and leaves the rest out. For the truly young the story and the image become linked, forever lodged without explanation or the desire to even understand. It's a marvelous and sometimes bizarre thing to plant in a young mind the image of a Jack and a Jill tumbling head-first down a hill simply for doing their chores.

Enter sequential storytelling.

Sequential visual narratives strive to tell a story not only in the pictures but between the panels. Like picture books, they extend the characters and the narrative from one to the next, each panel like a page unto itself, each transition like a page turn. Structurally, comics and graphic novels make for great transitional narrative for readers as they are dialog driven and tend to build scene upon scene. Add nonsensical nursery rhymes and the interpretation of cartoonists and you've got quite a wild ride.

How many times have you heard or read Humpty Dumpty? How does it end? It ends in tragedy, like Shakespeare, inevitable and unchangeable. Ah, but cartoons have a long history of the punchline, the change-up at the end, a twist that turns everything on its ear. What if the Egg Man fell, cracked open, and out sprang a half dozen smaller versions of himself? This is precisely what Gilbert Hernandez does in his retelling, and in doing so transforms the familiar into the new.

In other rhymes the narrative is subverted for a parallel story not even hinted at in the original. Little Boy Blue remains a farm boy shirking his duties, but here the barnyard animals are the ones who are featured. Bob Flynn has the sheep in meadow throwing Frisbees, and the reason no one is willing to wake him is because the animals have a pretty good poker game going on.

On the historical front, leave it David Macaulay to turn London Bridge into a lesson about all the different architectural forms the bridge has taken in its time. From rickety wood to stone and steel, Macaulay manages to erase the notion that the rhyme is only suited for playground games where some unlucky sod gets caught in the gated arms of classmates (usually some boy trapped between two girls).

The collection of cartoonists involved is fantastic. Personal faves include Jules Feiffer, Eleanor Davis, Craig Thompson, Sara Varon, Marc Rosenthal, Kate Beaton, Tony Millionaire... a collection too numerous to mention. Most I have encountered somewhere along the way, either in alternative comics or picture books or graphic novels, and with the exception of a single artist whose style I just don't care for I find them all to be equally suited to the task.

For most families with children I would say this shouldn't be the first or only collection of nursery rhymes. But for those who might want a second book this might make a great addition for the family with a new reader looking to read nursery rhymes to younger siblings. It'll make them the hip and cool kid who introduces their kid brothers and sisters into the joys of reading, storytelling, and the slightly subversive world of comics.

Wednesday, October 13

Yummy

The Last Days of a Southside Shorty 
by G. Neri 
illustrated by Randy DuBurke  
Lee and Low Books  2010  

The tragic account of an act of inner city violence that briefly gripped the nation and put a young face to seriousness of the problem.   

In the spring of 1994 there was a shooting in the Roseland area of Chicago, on the city's southside. Robert "Yummy" Sandifer, age 11, out to make a name for himself in a local gang called the Black Desciples attempted to shoot rival gang memebers and killed 14 year old Shavon Dean by accident.  With the aid of the Desciples Yummy hid from police for three days but was then found shot dead by members of the gang he was trying to impress.

Yummy: The Last Days of a Southside Shorty tells the story of those last days from the perspective of a fictional narrator named Roger who, under better circumstances, might have been Yummy's friend.  In unraveling the story after the fact, Roger attempts to see Yummy's life from all perspectives, to try and understand how someone as young as him could end up both a killer and killed at such a young age.

Yummy is a true tragic character.  Neglected and beaten from an early age, parents in and out of jail, lost through the cracks in social services, Yummy is a poster child for what was (and still is) wrong with the inner cities.  He starts out shoplifting and holding up people at ATMs with a toy gun, then moves to stealing cars for members of the local gang.  These attempts to get attention and find himself a stable and safe family are almost textbook examples of how kids end up in gangs but what was so shocking to many was how young Yummy was as he ascended into gang life.  The gangs use younger kids – nicknamed shortys – to do their dirty work because they can't be tried as adults.  And there's always an endless supply of kids looking to impress the gang leaders and become "made."  The mortality rate in the socioeconomically depressed areas makes a gang member over the age of 19 is a senior citizen.  Yummy barely made it half way there.  

The ugliest side of this story was that when Yummy was on the run there were people who knew where he was and didn't really act on his behalf.  The gang only hid Yummy initially because they wanted to keep the heat of their activities.  When Yummy, acting as a scared 11 year old naturally would, calls his grandma to pick him up he gets swept up by local people who want to get rid of him as quickly as possible for fear of attention being drawn on them.  It isn't clear why the women who are keeping him "safe" until his grandma can fetch him are quick to let him go with a pair of Desciples who clearly out to clean up the mess Yummy made by driving him to a secluded location where he would later be found dead.  The implication is that the moment Yummy pulled the trigger on the gun he was officially on his own and no one would be able to save him – a chilling thought the reader gets to chew on long after they've closed the book. 

Neri isn't interested in taking sides here or pointing the figure but instead lets the various sides of the story speak for themselves, trusting the reader will understand that sometimes there is no right answer, that regardless of circumstances there is always a choice and that you need to be careful about the choices you make.

There's a grittiness to the black and white illustration in this graphic novel that both fit its dark mood and, for me at least, push the issue back into history.  And if I had any criticism it's that the story does feel pushed back in a way that might make it easier to dismiss.  Given that teen readers will barely have been born when all this originally took place it might be seen more as an historical graphic novel and not a reflection of modern times.  I think it might have been nice for there to be some back matter or a coda that tied these events to the present and perhaps made the readers feel more inclined to want to change the way things are.

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This review is cross-posted over at Guys Lit Wire todayGuys Lit Wire, where reviews of books of interest to teen boys are posted fresh each weekday. 

Friday, August 20

The Adventures of Ook and Gluk

Kung-Fu Cavemen From the Future 
The second graphic novel by 
George Beard and Harold Hutchins 
the creators of  
Captain Underpants   
(along with Dav Pilkey)
Blue Sky Press / Scholastic 2010

Those bad boys of hypnotic mischief are back (finally!) with an epic 175 page tale of time-traveling cavemen who learn kung-fu and save the planet, both then and in the future.  Really, do you need to know anything more?

While many have looked forward to the third book in another series this summer -- something about games of hunger, or something -- this is the book I've been looking forward to.  And for no other reason that it's about dang time Dav Pilkey put out another book.  What's it been, four or five years now?  Imagine if you FOK-ers (Friends of Katniss, what did you think I meant?) had to wait four years for another installment instead of a single year.

So Ook and Gluk.  They're cavemen.  They get into mischief just like their creators, George and Harold, the two boys who created Captain Underpants, who is in fact their school principal under hypnosis.  Never mind that story, it doesn't come into play here.  Instead we have a couple of cave boys who run afoul a dude that looks like a cross between a tiki god and a salt shaker named Big Chief Goppernopper.  One thing leads to another, Goppernopper has his goons out to destroy the boys, and so on and son on, until one day Goppernopper comes across some guys in heavy machinery clearing whole forests.  Turns out that a Gopernopper of the future has depleted the planet's resources hundreds of thousands of years in the future and has come back through time to steal the resources available from the past.  Bada boom, bada bing, the boys are fugitives and wind up stuck in the future until they can think up a way to go back and save the past.  Luck has them hook up with a kung-fu master who teaches them the martial arts and how to not use violence to solve their problems...

Look, naturally everything turns out okay in the end.  This isn't a ride you get on for the scenery, or the flowery language (though sensei Wong gives the boys a bit of wax-on wax-off style philosophy), this is a book you gobble up for fun, and then start over from the beginning because there isn't anything else to read.  Not like this.  This is the long-form graphic novel that third grade (and some WAY older) boys have been waiting for, and it comes as a perfect late-summer respite to required summer reading.

Granted, we are talking about the type of antics seen in countless cartoons on television, the one-dimensional bad guys, the simple chase scenes, but how different is this really from any other genre reading out there?  It's got drawings, and puns, misspelled words and crazy flip-o-rama animation at the end of every chapter.  It's got cavemen and robots and time machines and kung-fu.  It's got boys behaving like boys and, believe it or not, a bit of romance and puberty thrown in for good measure. Sure, there's a problem with the time travel continuum and the messing with events thing, and I'll bet there are still parents and teachers and librarians out there who find these comic adventures inane and loathsome.

So yeah.  No ALA medals here.  And so what?

Friday, December 18

Pinocchio, Vampire Slayer


written by Van Jensen
created and illustrated by Dusty Higgins
SLG Publishing 2009

It's a clever idea for a graphic novel, marred slightly by clunkiness and serialization, but still fun.

Picking up where Collodi's original story left off, Pinocchio is older, only slightly wiser, and still a puppet. No, he wasn't turned into a real boy. And his town is suddenly being culled by dark creatures of the night who seem to be doing the bidding of the Master. Pinocchio has lost his "father" Geppetto to these creatures and now, with the aid of his carpenter friend Cherry and the Blue Fairy, stalks and kills the vampires in town with the aid of stakes he conveniently caries with him in the guise of a nose. While Pinocchio tries to warn the townsfolk the appearance of a pair of familiar-looking businessmen do their best to prove puppet-boy a lair.

Of course, if he were lying his nose would grow, but the townsfolk conveniently overlook this. He is, after all, only a talking puppet. Why would they listen to him anyway?

There's always been something almost Transyvanian about the story of Pinocchio to begin with, and the current vogue of vampires makes this an easy match-up. The storytelling in Pinocchio, Vampire Slayer is a little uneven – secondary characters and antagonists need to have emotional story arcs, I've recently figured out – and the chunky illustration style Higgins uses gets lost in the heavy zipatone, but I'm still left wanting more. For me, this is a good and a bad thing; good that I'm interested in following the story, bad because I hate waiting for serialized books and will generally lose interest by the time the next installment arrives.

At least, I'm assuming there's more to the story here. If not, well, then there's a bigger problem here.

Friday, October 16

Legacy


by Thomas E. Sniegoski
Delacorte 2009

At the risk of repeating myself, and stating the obvious, I cannot fathom for the life of my why anyone would seek out a superhero novel. Movies have made the idea of superhero stories vogue, and comics have long perfected and delivered the superhero story in an economical and vibrant format, but I am still unconvinced there is any sort of hue and cry for superhero fiction.

Lucus is a high school drop out in a dead-end desert town working the auto shop. His mom works the local diner. They live in a trailer park. After work he drinks himself drunk and sleeps it off.

The day after he miraculously and instantaneously heals from a knife wound inflicted by a local thug Lucas is visited by a mysterious man claiming to be his father. More, this mystery man who needs a cane to walk turns out to be billionaire Clayton Hartwell, and the old man can kick his ass in a fight. Turns out Lucas is his long-lost deadbeat father and...

Wait. I have to pull this joke: "Lucas, I'm your father! Search your feelings and you'll know this to be true!" Love the George Lucas/Luke/Star Wars reference. Really makes me want to take things seriously. Okay, where were we.

Oh yeah, so dad drops in to say (a) he's dying, (b) that he's a famous superhero named The Raptor and (c) that it's Lucas's legacy to take over. Lucas refuses and wants to confront his mom, but the minute she admits that it's true the trailer park is under attack and, after a fiery inferno takes the place down but leaves Lucas unscathed, he finally accepts who he is and is drugged into a deep sleep.

So we get the billionaire crime fighter with a secret identity, a mansion full of high tech gadgets, a flying suit... he's like Ironman and Batman rolled into one. But not just any Batman, but the Dark Knight who must be convinced that Seraph City (seraph = angel, so I'm guessing Los Angeles) is worth saving. Then again, Hartwell is a little like Ironman's Tony Stark who has decided to use his money and access to technology for good, so he's a conflicted Raptor.

Anyway, once Lucas accepts his fate, or legacy, or whatever, dad puts him through rigorous training whith I have to say is a bit sadistic. Seriously sadistic in some cases. Actually, every life-or-death struggle Anakin puts Luke.. er, I mean that Hartwell puts Lucas through is a pass-fail exam where success is measured by not getting killed. In the end Lucas has to decide whether the old man has gone bats, and whether he's going to take over the family businesses, and be the upholder of vigilante justice in the name of a city he never really loved the way his father allegedly did.

Here's where comic books get superhero stories right and novels, especially novels for teens and middle graders, get things wrong. In comics there is usually some crime and action scenes establishing the superhero and maybe a brush of backstory along the way toward catching the bad guys. Once the comic is established, and the readership solidified, they'll take a breather and give the superhero origins story. By then reader interest is piqued and they want to know who this person is and how they got there. But in novels you don't get several (dozen) stories to build a readership before giving the backstory, and as a result the superhero novel always has to begin with the origin, which slows things down, is tedious, and basically isn't why the reader has picked up the book in the first place.

The reader wants action, and battles, and an evil that must be fought, and they don't want a bunch of inner dialog and pondering to get in the way. With Legacy we even get something worse: an entire novel-length origin/rebirth story. This might make a good story ten or so issues in on a comic line, but in novel form it's just deadly. I kept thinking "Okay, once we get past this father-son ordeal we can get into the nature of crime fighting, or the problems of having to sort out the subtleties of good and evil when you're only 18 years old, but no. Just dad torturing son who he keeps threatening with the old "not good enough" guilt trip line.

What surprises overall is that Sniegoski is a comic book writer as well as an author, and I would have expected him to know better than to recycle a bunch of tired tropes and types that are easily identifiable. If the argument that the book is intended for a younger, less-familiar audience then I find that insulting. Sniegoski is also the creator of the Billy Hooton, Owlboy series aimed at a middle grade audience, another title that suffers from this misguided notion that kids go into bookstores asking for books about superheroes they've never heard of. Newsflash from a former bookseller: they don't! Not only that, the boys who do mention superheroes as an interest are looking for comics and give booksellers the stink-eye if you pull one of these titles on them.

Given the lead time on books I'm going to be optimistic and hope this is just one of the last entries in the superhero bandwagon that publishers jumped on a few years back. Yeah, that's it. Once the economy tanked and they looked at sales they realized that there's just no way Barnes & Noble is going to install a Superhero section in their stores and have stopped accepting new superhero manuscripts. Probably one or two more like this and the "genre" will be officially dead.

Lets hope.

Saturday, September 5

Lunch Lady

...and the Cyborg Substitute
...and the League of Librarians
written and illustrated by Jarret J. Krosoczka
Alfred A. Knopf 2009

There's evil afoot, and Lunch Lady is there with her trusty hair-netted sidekick Betty to thwart it. Whether its a league of librarians who plan to intercept all the new video game consoles coming in fresh off he boat, or the mild-mannered teacher who created a robot army to replace the other teachers so he can become Teacher of the Year, Lunch Lady and her never-ending arsenal of modified food service devices will be there to save the day.

These graphic novels aimed at the emerging reader has just enough story to keep them moving along and plenty of action to retain the attention of the fussiest readers, but little else. They have a look and feel reminiscent of the the Babymouse series, though they lack that series more rounded characters. The trio of kids - the Breakfast Bunch - are convenient shells for explaining story elements and become useful only when they fall into danger. Lunch Lady (and Betty) should be the focus and we should know more about what makes them tick.

Similarly, this series also makes a play for the Captain Underpants crowd with the wackiness of superheros but are neither as clever in their humor or as gross as they could be. We are talking about cafeteria food here, a prime area for exploration, and it feels little like an opportunity lost that crime if fought only with the utensils. Also, superheroes have backstories that explain and infuse character. Captain Underpants himself is funny because of how he becomes who he is, but with Lunch Lady the reader is supposed to accept her antics simply by virtue of lunch ladies being somewhat off.

I appreciate the idea of producing more long-form comics for this age group but I feel that with kids a certain standard has to be met. I'm not suggesting that the stories can't be fun and frivolous, but that they be delivered with the same expectations that would fall to a work of fiction aimed at the same level. What makes Captain Underpants work with readers isn't that it has underpants in the title, it's that the characters are distinctly drawn, the text is clever and funny, and the story would be almost as funny without illustrations. There's a whole load of possibility in the concept of a superhero Lunch Lady but it's all lost on just-in-time gadgets and one-dimensional characters.

I found that the moment I closed the book I had forgotten most of its story. The same thing happened on rereading them. There is so little to latch onto that they are as immediately forgotten as the empty calories of a celery stalk.

To steal from Douglas Adams: relatively harmless.

Monday, September 29

Jack and the Box


by Art Spiegelman
Toon Books 2008

Earlier this year when the first batch of Toon titles came out I was less than enthused. The problem as I saw it then was that the titles seemed little more than traditional comic book fare with expensive paper, better printing, and hard covers. I couldn't reconcile the content with the cost and felt that they were best suited for libraries who would do well with studier bindings, not with the general consumer (picture book readers) who would tire of the titles quickly.

Now with the second round of releases I'm finding this less to be the case, but its book specific. Spiegelman's Jack and the Box isn't merely " a first COMIC for brand-new readers" as it says on the cover, it's actually a subtle and sophisticated tool that helps introduce readers to the concepts in reading and understanding comics. It is a primer on comic literacy at the simplest level, and clever. I doubt Spiegelman could have delivered anything less.

The book opens simply enough with a single illustration of Jack (Rabbit) being given a new toy. Two simple word balloons establish the order of both reading left-to-right and lead the viewer's eyes to follow the action accordingly. With a flip of the page we are now presented with a double page spread of four equal sized panels. There's the conflict of the first panel (Jack can't open it), the tension in the second panel (watching the box, waiting for something to happen), the action in the third panel (a clown pops out of the box, jack-in-the-box style, scaring Jack), and a punchline in the fourth panel ("Ha ha!" "What a silly toy!"). With a few words and some simple pictures a first encounter with a jack-in-the-box is turned into the core joke on which all future variations will be built. Since humor is generally derived from the unexpected turn, from the deviation from what is expected or established, Spiegelman can now train young comic readers to learn how to read for visual cues and verbal repetition. It's a winning combination and, to the casual reader, a subtle lesson in how to read comics.

Jack now has a series of comic adventures with the toy, each four panels across the spreads, built on the idea of an uncooperative toy and its unexpected behavior. We've been told it is a very silly toy so we aren't surprised to see it talk back or misbehave. There's the slightest hint of Cat in the Hat style mischief, and a sense of a child's play world being realistic to the child but confusing to adults, which adds another layer to the book. As the comic stories add and build, and the chaos grows, there is a need for release at the end that comes in Jack explaining all that has transpired to his curious parents, the denouement so to speak. Order is restored, and Jack now safely has mastered the silly toy the same way the reader has mastered the complexities of a comic narrative.

While there are other books out there for the picture book crowd that work within the comic framework (Regis Faller's Polo books, for example) there are few that work this hard, this effortlessly to train readers to the art of comic literacy. I hope that Toon continues to build off this lesson with their other titles.

Monday, September 8

The Bad Book


by Aranzi Aronzo
Random House / Vertical 2007

So many words to choose from, so many possible titles. People, people, don't give your book titles that can serve as their own reviews.

Okay, so maybe it isn't the worst thing I've seen, but I'm trying to remember now why someone thought I would like this. Basically it's like a snarky Hello Kitty comic, cute but sarcastic. More like a Batz Maru squared, actually, because the main characters are Bad Guy and Liar. In a collected of super short, often pointless cartoon stories, Bad Guy and Liar engage in the type of shenanigans that might pass for humor in a flash animation pop-up box on the internet. Bad Guy in summer is squirting a hose and SPLASH! he squirts you in the last panel. Bad Guy trips Liar and has a good laugh until he sees blood, then Liar lifts his head and says "I was lying" while an arrow points to the red pool and notes it's tomato juice. Ha ha, it is to laugh.

Thoughout there are photo spreads of a highly marketable Bad Guy doll riding the escalator rails, dressing badly, and generally mugging for the camera. Cute, but not quite cute enough.

Aranzi Aronzo are actually a pair of Japanese young women who are big on cute crafts and have a passel of cute books to their credit. It is part of the Japanese cute movement (kawaii) that would include the likes of pandas, bunnies and, no doubt, the Queen of Sanrio. As marketing, well, I guess there's always an opening for something between Strawberry Shortcake and Ugly Dolls, but I'm not feeling it here.

Oddly, this title was lurking in the YA section at the library. Perhaps in a world of lowered expectations some might find this amusing. I can't imagine a pair of teens or even tween pulling something like this together and creating an American kawaii empire of their own. Perhaps it might even be amusing.

I need to remember who suggested this to me, and then I need to make sure I take those suggestions with a grain of salt in the future.

Thursday, May 31

Memo to Acquisitions Re: Superhero Fiction

Stop. Immediately.

Hollywood may be awash in all sorts of superheros, spies and pirates but attempting to ride their gravy train in publishing has been a huge mistake. And from the looks of the titles in my review stack there are many editors who just don't get it, especially with the superhero stuff.

I am referring to stories about the boy (always a boy) whose powers are lesser, or non-existent, yet another underdog defeating the cardboard adult villain who has never been successfully felled by other adult superheroes. Or those series where the superhero is a sidekick who tells us flat out that were it not for his (always his) intervention the main hero would not have triumphed in the end.

While we're at it, why do these books always tell us how they will end in advance? Are you afraid that the reader will abandon the book unless they know up front how it will end? And once they know, what on earth could be the reason for wanting to actually continue?

No, they are not humorous. No matter how many references to butts or flatulence or belching or body odor. The witty repartee is more hackneyed than the worst Hollywood movie, far from being clever or witty, farther still from being humorous. Dav Pilkey "got away with it" because he was performing a meta parody on the superhero, comics and gross-out prankster boy genres. Dav Pilkey's Captain Underpants series is clever despite it's potty humor not because of it. Dav Pilkey gets it and he gets it right.

Listen, I can understand that you want to try and capitalize on the latest trends in pop culture, and competing with Hollywood is a major factor. But if you do not fully understand what they are doing you can't begin to hope to catch a glimmer of that lightning in a bottle. Hollywood didn't pluck random screenplays out of the slush pile, or purchase pitches from some hot new talent with a well-connected agent, they went with franchise material that's several decades old. They hired name actors and screenwriters and directors with proven records and sank tons of money, time and pre-production into making them blockbusters out the gate.

But where's the money in purchasing someone else's franchise? Why would any book publisher actively attempt a novel form of a comic book character that already exists in a printed format? They wouldn't, which puts you, publishers and editors, at a disadvantage when it comes to the genre. How, then, to capitalize (as we are capitalists here, yes?) on the superhero genre without looking derivative?

You don't. Spandex-clad superheroes have their place and appeal but it isn't in fiction, otherwise why didn't it originate there? The popular comic superhero has been with us since the 1930's but only in recent years have we seen original fiction concerning caped crusaders that didn't previously exist. This isn't a question of a dormant, untapped market, it's a simple fact that superhero fiction doesn't work. It doesn't work because the artifice of the world it inhabits begs for visuals, and once you begin to introduce visuals you might as well be making a graphic novel or a straight-up comic book.

So do us a favor, Dear Acquisitions Person: If you (or your boss, house, or division) are clamoring to try and capture the superhero market, and you find a worthy manuscript, push like you've never pushed before to have it converted into a graphic novel. If that makes you uncomfortable, if you don't think it'll work in an illustrated format, if it's just too long or you can't imagine the market for such a book, then perhaps it doesn't work as fiction either. If you (your boss, house, or division) are not committed to doing comic-formatted works, then perhaps you shouldn't be pushing the superhero genre.

Personal note to the geniuses at HarperCollins Children's Books:


What possessed you to make a "storybook" version of the new Spider-man 3 movie? The film is rated PG-13, the text of the book talks about "acing college classes" and job security and sexual jealousy and revenge, and yet you think this is appropriate for kids as young as 3 years old? For you I say: Double-plus Stop.

Saturday, May 12

Summer Reading, Part One: Low Humor

I believe in summer reading. Some of the best memories I have about my summers growing up were the times spent at the local libraries, taking books home on a lazy afternoon and reading until my eyes got blurry or my stomach grumbled. I wasn't a shut-in or a book worm -- I would play pick-up games with kids on the block, or down at the park -- but I did spend a lot of time to myself because I was fairly insecure and introspective.

Things have changed and now my kids don't just go a couple doors down to play with their friends, they request play dates which need to be coordinated with other parents. The idea of walking down to the local park and hanging out with other kids was predicated on an environment where neighbors looked after one another and the local park had a paid supervisor to check out balls, games, lanyard materials and whatnot. And the summer reading of my youth, always self-directed and rarely encouraged by my mother, has been replaced with a formalized list of titles handed out at the end of the school year for elementary school kids to stress over as they tussle with parents over having their "fun" summer taken away from them.

Along with the myth that homework actually helps children perform better at school, assigned summer reading sounds to me like a clever way to make kids hate books at an earlier age than they might normally. I don't look back at those summers where I would devour books as a punishment, and my girls currently don't seem to have a problem seeking out a new book the minute they finish another, yet when those lists come out and we look over the titles and descriptions of recommended reading there's always a sense of resentment from all parties.

Why are we molding children as young as 8 to accept that summer is a time to "get ahead?" Won't they get enough of this pressure come high school? And why does the material always need to pass some bar of appropriateness, not just for reading level but for content? Is there no room for "play" in summer reading?

No. I mean, yes, there is room for play in summer reading. If there isn't, room should be made. To this end I am always in praise of low humor and the types of reading materials often regarded as pop or junk culture and always inconsequential. Since the end of World War II it seems there has always been a voice decrying low humor and popular culture in favor of more refined works. After half a century perhaps we ought to acknowledge that a large portion of the population -- I'm looking at you, Boomers -- have ingested and devoured a fair amount of this inferior printed matter and have been none the worse for it. I see no reason to continue to demonize it any further.

Classic MAD Magazine Paperbacks

I grew up on Mad magazine. I read plenty of other humor and comic magazines along the way but it always comes back to Mad because it taught me more than most adults would like to admit or give it credit for teaching. Yes, I was a boy, and there's a fair amount of boy-friendly gross-out humor involved, but what else was teaching me social and political satire? How else would I learn about the value (or lack thereof) of popular culture like moves, television and music were it not through their jabbing, critical parodies? Highlighting the inanities of stereotypes and skewering authority skirted the edge of political correctness but in those humorous examinations of human folly I came to understand my own points of view, began to formulate my own opinions and had a good laugh in the process.

Currently Mad magazine seems to be suffering. Mad's parent company was acquired over time by Time Warner but the magazine was allowed to run independently until it's founding editor William M. Gaines died in 1992. Since then corporate elements have slowly taken over in an attempt to make the magazine more of a fiscal asset. When the magazine, famous for taking on the absurdities of American advertising, began accepting ads themselves in 2001 most readers, young and old, recognized that Mad was dead. Long live MAD!

My local libraries had spinner racks filled with paperback books and among those were the collections from Mad. Some were artist-centric collections and others were thematic, all of them chock full of material that had appeared in the magazine in the (at that time) 20-plus years of its history. For me there were three artists whose books never failed, whose various approaches to humorous illustration still hold up all these years later: Don Martin, Al Jaffee and Sergio Aragones.

The late Don Martin, nicknamed Mad's Maddest Artist, drew characters with elongated faces and hinged feet and often frozen in some of the most exaggerated "takes" this side of Tex Avery. While Martin's work for the magazine was often single-page comic style stories his books contained longer stories that often poked fun at a number of genres, particularly those based on movies. Al Jaffe, the master of the back cover fold-ins for the magazine, is best known for his "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions" series, something anyone who works or has worked in retail or customer service can appreciate. It might seem like teaching children how to come up with sarcastic retorts could backfire the larger lesson in these books is to think before asking the unnecessary question in the first place. Finally, Sergio Aragones was the created of the "marginals" the little illustrations tucked in around the corners of the pages of the magazines. In book form his comics dealt in the visual humor of silent movies, a universal humor where the punchline often hinged on the flipping of a stereotype or expectation.

These books were last reprinted back in the 1990's and can be found used usually for under a dollar. For the price of two new paperbacks (one for each of my girls) I can get 8 to 10 of these books, which they will share. Value is a good thing when you're feeding hungry readers.

Comic Strip Collections: Peanuts, Calvin and Hobbes, &c.

Last year we introduced the girls to Calvin and Hobbes but it only really took with my oldest. An excellent comic overall, if a child already hasn't discovered this gem from previous safaris through the library then I highly recommend it. The play between the real and imagined worlds within the comic and Bill Watterson's magnificent draftsmanship make this a winner, and I don't begrudge Watterson for stopping the cartoon at the height of its popularity so he could go out on a high note. It can be a tricky comic to introduce -- my youngest needed to initially have the two worlds explained to her -- but reaps rewards in revisiting themes that call on a reader to remember personality and character traits from earlier strips. Actually, this is true of most daily comic strips, but few are as gratifying or as deceptively simple as Calvin and Hobbes.

Naturally, the grandaddy of them all would be the Peanuts collection, a seemingly endless series of collected dailies currently being captured in annual volumes by Fantagraphics Books, the comic book publisher. There is a certain charm to the Peanuts strips though after all these years I am starting to feel that their genteel quality is showing its age. Charles Schulz kept adults out of his strips (with one or two rare exceptions) and sparingly used pop culture references which has helped to keep them evergreen. For kids who think they have seen it all it's sometimes fun to bust out some "old school" on them and watch them enjoy it.

I remember the summer I found a yard sale and discovered the paperback collections of The Wizard of Id and B.C., the strip collections of Johnny Hart and Brant Parker. I'm not recommending these books directly except to suggest that there's something to be said about "discovering" something not put in front of you. I had a dollar bill burning a whole in my pocket and that was the price of a whole stack of these paperbacks - 17 in total. You feel like you've robbed a bank when you walk away from a sale with an armload of books like that and I'm always on the lookout for another great deal like that. When I finished with those books I hit the library up for the others in the series they had (which I somehow never noticed before) and then started paying more attention to yard sales. And the comics pages of newspapers, which brought me more reading. Some lessons are learned in books and some are learned in consuming them.

None of this is great literature, though much of it is classic pop culture from the 20th century. Reading comics requires a different set of skills, a combination of reading and observing, drawing pictorial conclusions and making visual analogies. It isn't something we teach children (though we ought to) but it is a language unto itself that teaches the reader as it goes.

There are plenty of other possibilities among the ranks of what has generally been relegated to the lower rung of trashy pop culture. It's all part of our neglected cultural heritage.

Comic Books: Mickey Mouse, Archies, Cartoon Network, & The Great Unknown

A recent news item talks about Maryland schools adding comic books to the classroom, and Disney is the company supporting it. This has been one of my fears about the increase in comics and graphic novels, that large corporate entities would make attractive offers to schools and flood them with materials designed to build brand loyalty. Disney has a long history of being in the classroom -- Boomers will remember the filmstrips in science class about VD, Gen Xers
would have seen the movie version -- so they aren't strangers to mixing educational content with humor. But when you take something like a comic book and turn it into a teaching tool you take away what's fun about the comic and you ingrain a sense of skepticism that all comics may be as dry as instructional media

No, comics are meant for the summers. They're meant for lazy afternoons in the shade (all summer reading can be an outdoor activity, weather permitting) slurping on a slushie and letting the time slip. I was never a big fan of superheroes -- I never could understand what any kid saw in these fools with their spandex outfits -- but there's plenty of other types of comics in the world. Kid-friendly titles do tend to be hokey but they also present simplified stories of character interaction. Archie Comics aren't going to break any new ground in humor -- they may be the corniest of the bunch -- but they do provide the basic vocabulary in understanding visual media, good for building those future graphic novel skills.

I recently saw a Betty comic (as in Betty and Veronica of the Archie Gang) that told a story of Betty's older sister getting an actual letter in the mail (as opposed to email) and everyone in the house was all jazzed. Turns out it was an apology note that had been lost in the post for years, and as a result Betty's sister had spent years thinking the boy was a lout for standing her up. Curious, she finds his name in the phone book and calls him (something he should have done instead of sending a note) and the upshot is they are rekindling their friendship/romance. Betty is so excited that she goes to her room to email her boyfriend the story and instead he breaks up with through instant messaging. The punchline from the parents is that while modern technology has sped up ability to communicate (and miscommunicate) it hasn't changed the simple truths about relationships, it's just made them happen faster. Very simple, hokey, kid-friendly and an easily digestable chunk of how technology has changed.

The Archie and Mickey Mouse comics families are safe but might seem a bit stale to kids already acclimated to what television offers up. For them I'm suggesting most of what the Cartoon Network has in comics form. For superhero girl power, The Powerpuff Girls work well though they recently lost their own comic and are now included in anthology comics featuring a number of stories from different shows. Sure, it does feel a bit like television show promotion, but if it comes down to a choice between watching Camp Lazlo or having them read Camp Lazlo, I'll go for the latter.

Best trick: give a child $10, take them to the comic book store and let them choose whatever $10 will buy. A number of comic book emporiums will have discounted racks or bins with back issues sometimes marked down as much as 50%. Unless the child is comic book collector chances are good it's all new to them and they could come away with quite a haul. Better still: go back to the store alone and buy another bundle and mail it to them in the middle of the summer as a surprise.

Older kids aren't going to be interested in "baby stuff" like Mickey and the Gang and will probably insist on scavenging the Japanese manga titles and standard superhero fare. Older girls may especially feel there is nothing for them in comic books (it is a pretty male dominated field) but let them browse, and ask the store employees for suggestions. There are a lot of alternative and independent comics out there with female protagonists or created by women artists. The art in these comics may look very unfinished or at least unlike most slick comic books out there, but don't let that be the guide. As with any book, the cover can only say so much, it's what's inside that matters.

If you are worried about the content that an older comic reader may be attracted to, rather than insisting on approval take a moment to look at the item in question and say "That looks interesting, I'll want to read that when you're finished with it." If there's any doubt about your approval their self-censorship will sink in and make the decision whether or not the material is appropriate. And follow-through, do read the title when they are done and try to understand the appeal without judgment, without questioning. You might learn something about your child you didn't realize, and they might also be telling you something about themselves deliberately.

Again, I believe in summer reading, but I believe that reading in the summer belongs to the individual reader. They'll get plenty of broccoli during the school year, let them gorge on dessert for a while.

* * * * *

I'm sketching out some ideas...


about the books I think about when I think about summer reading. Despite appearances here, it wasn't always about comics! I'm going to try and present some themes about a week apart, leading up to the end of the traditional school year in mid-June. In the meantime, if anyone else has some personal suggestions for non-traditional (i.e. not found in general fiction) Low Humor that is well-suited for kids (and not already in their radar) please feel free to jump into the comments.

Next Week: Part Two -- Non-fiction?