Tuesday, 3 September 2019 09:49 pm
Two Graphic Novel Reviews
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deckardcanineBoy, it's been a full decade since the last graphic novel I read, apart from webcomics that amount to such. Perhaps I'd internalized the notion that they were generally too dark for my taste. Or perhaps the fact that I was never big on the hardcopy comic book medium stopped me from thinking much about the purported classics within.
But after seeing the comic store near my office many times, I gained the initiative to ask about Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. The novice-friendly clerk advised me to start with volume 1, Preludes & Nocturnes. I then saw from the intro that Patrick Rothfuss, whose books I've liked, had had even less experience with the medium than I've had when he started on Sandman, and now he thinks it's better than Shakespeare. Still, the freaky cover told me I'd prefer the Bard.
The plot is simple enough: In 1915, secret wizards attempt to capture Death but only get Dream, a.k.a. Morpheus and a bunch of other names. For the next 70 years, Dream is imprisoned naked in a bubble (the artists stopped short of full frontals) with little to do but say no to the persistent demands for gifts he couldn't give if he wanted to. When he finally escapes, he must find and reclaim three important possessions no longer in the organization's storage. After getting a little revenge, of course.
Dream is hardly the only one to suffer from his deprivation. For reasons never fully explained, many individuals either sleep too much or don't sleep at all, nearly becoming zombies. And nasty things happen when people, especially Dr. Destiny, use items never meant for mortals.
If that name rings a bell, I should mention that several preexisting DC Comics characters appear. I recognized a few, which enhanced my interest a little, tho Gaiman's afterword expresses semi-regret for bringing any superheroes into the story, however fleetingly. That may or may not have been a mistake in the long run, but I can tell you that what we see of their personalities pales next to what we see of Dream's. He seems a stodgy goth with a creepily rendered voice, but he's basically a nice guy when not angered into mercilessness. (How he can "love" someone but not forgive her after her 10,000 years in hell is beyond me.) If you ask him politely for a peaceful sleep, he'll oblige at no charge. He sincerely wants, if not feels obliged, to make the world a better place.
I'm glad I waited until after reading Watchmen to try this graphic novel, which is even more disturbing much of the time, thanks to supernatural grossness. Fortunately, it's also more hopeful. Yes, some people are frightfully doomed, but it defies overall despair. It may help that the presence of hell suggests the reality of heaven as well. There are even times that you'd expect something sordid and don't get it. I won't say it's ever funny, but at least it can be light now and then.
I'm also glad to have waited until after reading American Gods, because this is at least as weird. Just taking the DC characters Cain and Abel and refashioning them into THE Cain and Abel raises a few questions yet unanswered AFAIK, including "Why?" The more I know of Gaiman, the more I think Good Omens -- the novel, at least -- was primarily Terry Pratchett's doing.
Before the last chapter, I didn't plan to read any other Sandman volumes. Then I saw a disarmingly sweet depiction of Death (take that, Pratchett) and learned that that was when Gaiman felt he'd come into his own. Indeed, even Rothfuss needed more than one volume to appreciate the eventual genius. So I might just continue, tho not right away.
For a palate cleanser, I returned to the store and bought something that the clerk might have found an odd follow-up, David Petersen's Mouse Guard: Winter 1152. This is the second volume in the series; the first was not on the shelves. The Internet assured me that I could read them out of order and not be lost.
Well, I wasn't exactly lost, but I did feel that I'd missed out on a lot. It's possible that even Fall 1152 feels that way, hinting at more history than ever gets spelled out. If so, the simplicity of the present story is curious if not deceptive.
My first thought was of Redwall, given the medieval-style murine adventure with English compound words for location names. The paused webcomic Scurry also came to mind, despite obvious differences. Let's face it: Telling an original tale involving mice who struggle to survive is hard at this point.
There is some suitably choreographed action and drama, but from what little goes on in each chapter, I'd hate to have read it one issue at a time. I guess the plus side to frequent chapter divisions is that each one starts with a poem, credited to a scribe character. Those poems, I find, have fine rhymes but poor meter. Those intro pages also have more typos than the dialog, itself not flawless, leading me to wonder about the production value.
The art? Well, the environments are pretty good, if a bit overwhelmed by snow in this volume. I wish I could say the same for the characters. Never mind their rather low level of cuteness (their tails rarely show); I couldn't determine their genders even from their sparse attire. Their beady eyes and invisible mouths don't lend themselves to expressiveness, tho at least their faces don't look completely identical like in Maus, if only thanks to coloration.
I suspect that what I missed most from earlier is the establishment of personalities. I gained only vague ideas about these characters. It was hard for me to care deeply about what happened to them, however obvious the tragic moments. (I didn't necessarily intend for the palate cleansing to involve merriment.)
In the end, I remembered why I normally don't buy comic books or graphic novels: They're over so quickly. If I want to pay $25 for an hour's entertainment, I'll go to an escape room or something. Sorry, Petersen; I draw the line here.
Feeling up to another tome, I've grabbed The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. Despite a gritty setup, it's tickling me more than either of those not-so-comic books.
But after seeing the comic store near my office many times, I gained the initiative to ask about Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. The novice-friendly clerk advised me to start with volume 1, Preludes & Nocturnes. I then saw from the intro that Patrick Rothfuss, whose books I've liked, had had even less experience with the medium than I've had when he started on Sandman, and now he thinks it's better than Shakespeare. Still, the freaky cover told me I'd prefer the Bard.
The plot is simple enough: In 1915, secret wizards attempt to capture Death but only get Dream, a.k.a. Morpheus and a bunch of other names. For the next 70 years, Dream is imprisoned naked in a bubble (the artists stopped short of full frontals) with little to do but say no to the persistent demands for gifts he couldn't give if he wanted to. When he finally escapes, he must find and reclaim three important possessions no longer in the organization's storage. After getting a little revenge, of course.
Dream is hardly the only one to suffer from his deprivation. For reasons never fully explained, many individuals either sleep too much or don't sleep at all, nearly becoming zombies. And nasty things happen when people, especially Dr. Destiny, use items never meant for mortals.
If that name rings a bell, I should mention that several preexisting DC Comics characters appear. I recognized a few, which enhanced my interest a little, tho Gaiman's afterword expresses semi-regret for bringing any superheroes into the story, however fleetingly. That may or may not have been a mistake in the long run, but I can tell you that what we see of their personalities pales next to what we see of Dream's. He seems a stodgy goth with a creepily rendered voice, but he's basically a nice guy when not angered into mercilessness. (How he can "love" someone but not forgive her after her 10,000 years in hell is beyond me.) If you ask him politely for a peaceful sleep, he'll oblige at no charge. He sincerely wants, if not feels obliged, to make the world a better place.
I'm glad I waited until after reading Watchmen to try this graphic novel, which is even more disturbing much of the time, thanks to supernatural grossness. Fortunately, it's also more hopeful. Yes, some people are frightfully doomed, but it defies overall despair. It may help that the presence of hell suggests the reality of heaven as well. There are even times that you'd expect something sordid and don't get it. I won't say it's ever funny, but at least it can be light now and then.
I'm also glad to have waited until after reading American Gods, because this is at least as weird. Just taking the DC characters Cain and Abel and refashioning them into THE Cain and Abel raises a few questions yet unanswered AFAIK, including "Why?" The more I know of Gaiman, the more I think Good Omens -- the novel, at least -- was primarily Terry Pratchett's doing.
Before the last chapter, I didn't plan to read any other Sandman volumes. Then I saw a disarmingly sweet depiction of Death (take that, Pratchett) and learned that that was when Gaiman felt he'd come into his own. Indeed, even Rothfuss needed more than one volume to appreciate the eventual genius. So I might just continue, tho not right away.
For a palate cleanser, I returned to the store and bought something that the clerk might have found an odd follow-up, David Petersen's Mouse Guard: Winter 1152. This is the second volume in the series; the first was not on the shelves. The Internet assured me that I could read them out of order and not be lost.
Well, I wasn't exactly lost, but I did feel that I'd missed out on a lot. It's possible that even Fall 1152 feels that way, hinting at more history than ever gets spelled out. If so, the simplicity of the present story is curious if not deceptive.
My first thought was of Redwall, given the medieval-style murine adventure with English compound words for location names. The paused webcomic Scurry also came to mind, despite obvious differences. Let's face it: Telling an original tale involving mice who struggle to survive is hard at this point.
There is some suitably choreographed action and drama, but from what little goes on in each chapter, I'd hate to have read it one issue at a time. I guess the plus side to frequent chapter divisions is that each one starts with a poem, credited to a scribe character. Those poems, I find, have fine rhymes but poor meter. Those intro pages also have more typos than the dialog, itself not flawless, leading me to wonder about the production value.
The art? Well, the environments are pretty good, if a bit overwhelmed by snow in this volume. I wish I could say the same for the characters. Never mind their rather low level of cuteness (their tails rarely show); I couldn't determine their genders even from their sparse attire. Their beady eyes and invisible mouths don't lend themselves to expressiveness, tho at least their faces don't look completely identical like in Maus, if only thanks to coloration.
I suspect that what I missed most from earlier is the establishment of personalities. I gained only vague ideas about these characters. It was hard for me to care deeply about what happened to them, however obvious the tragic moments. (I didn't necessarily intend for the palate cleansing to involve merriment.)
In the end, I remembered why I normally don't buy comic books or graphic novels: They're over so quickly. If I want to pay $25 for an hour's entertainment, I'll go to an escape room or something. Sorry, Petersen; I draw the line here.
Feeling up to another tome, I've grabbed The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. Despite a gritty setup, it's tickling me more than either of those not-so-comic books.