Understanding Scott McCloud's "Understanding Comics"

This is some quality stuff, I've got to say. Concise, clear, and humorous as well; that's pretty much all I could ask for in an explanation, and especially so in one that's over a hundred pages long (though that might at first appear to go against "concise"). I don't mind the length, though, when the subject matter is interesting or the narrative is appealing. I'm not too sure if you can really call what I'm reading a narrative, but sure as hell I want to see what the main character does next in a long sequence of events, so it's close enough for me.

One thing that I really appreciate in McCloud's work is something that I'm sure has been said by literally everyone who's read "Understanding Comics" -- his use of the comic to explain the comic is phenomenal. The juxtaposition of film's use of time to comics' use of space, the effect of simplification on the viewer, and the idea of contrasting a simple character against a detailed background to more easily relate to the character are all explained superbly with visual aides and written word. Never once did I have to think "wait, I must've missed something..." and turn back a page to try to re-process something McCloud told me, which I must admit I tend to do frequently when reading a textbook, novel, or even watching a tutorial on youtube.

Just the way that McCloud is able to convey what one would initially think are complex scientific processes in a page covered with a few lines is beyond me. I wouldn't have ever thought that the reason for the human brain being able to relate to simplified figures better than realistic ones would be that the mind thinks of the body's own face in abstraction. Not only is that downright fascinating, but it really changes the way I think about using the tool of simplification. As a game artist, it really reminds me of the environments in Jonathan Blow's new game, 'The Witness'. Apparently the art team is really focused on stripping away any unnecessary details in the landscapes and textures, giving the viewers only color, silhouette, lighting information, and the occasional bold addition like a fissure or fold. Even though you're actually looking at less than you'd see in your standard AAA game title, the environments feel like they're teeming with life and positively exploding with realistic beauty.

I bet McCloud would be proud (assuming he even cares about games).

-Will Avery

So I Read Some of Moebius's Strips...

I'm sure the pun in the title has been made countless times in the past, and I'd even put money on it happening more than once in this class's round of blog posts. So... sorry about that. But anyway, this is one of those times when I'm really just not sure what I've read. Typically that pertains to a single reading, but as all of the Moebius strips I read (oh ho ho) were fairly short, I can safely say I was continuously unsure of what I was reading. It was pretty darn great, though.

Weirdly connected universes, strange handling of continuity, various artistic styles, dark humor, nudity, giant monsters, and tanks; is there anything more that I could ask for in a night's reading? My particular favorite may have been "Free Fall", an all-pen work in which a man falls through what appears to be, in order, a giant forest, a cave, a temple, an otherworldly elevator shaft (at which point he is recorded by the attendant), and finally the western United States circa 1800. The man's collision with the ground creates a blast resembling that of a nuclear bomb, and there's no explanation for why it happened. Do I even need a backstory, though? As someone always critiquing classmates on things like "the rules of your world" and character motivation, I'd think I would -- but no; dead wrong. I just immediately accepted that the man was falling and nuked some cowboys. It was visually appealing and I legitimately wanted to know what happened next, without any dialogue or semblance of a plot. I guess I like it so much because it managed to capture my attention whilst slapping my usual criteria for an interesting story in the face.

Another tale I'd like to talk about is "Ballade", which reminds me of... well, several things. The world is highly reminiscent of "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind", a film directed by Hayao Miyazaki that was once a manga by the same name. Vast, dense jungles teeming with giant insects one moment and endless plains populated with modern military at another. Compelling stuff; and hey! There's nudity! Something that caught me off guard was that the characters appeared to be rendered in an Art Nouveau-like style, while the background switches between that and a style that made me vaguely nostalgic for Johnny Quest for some reason.

And SWEET BABY JESUS, the way that the pages are divided up during the scene at night, when the first-introduced character is in a cave. The panels are divided seamlessly with aspects of the actual scene, like the entrance to the cave or the back of the giant scorpion -- perhaps the best example, though, is the smoke billowing from the campfire that splits a page clean in two.

Perhaps this particular post was more of a random stream of consciousness than an analysis, but hey... typically, when I see something that I just genuinely like and have no problem with, I rant about it instead of talk about it. Off to read more, then.

-Will Avery

A Contract with God

MAN I wanted to know what was written on that freakin' rock. I assume it had something to do with having no one die in Frimme's life, or maybe something as broad as "I don't want anything bad to happen to me", but for some reason I just have a burning desire to know the specifics. Maybe that's the point, though, and I'm supposed to rack my brain over what personal information I should be understanding about the character I see falling deeper and deeper into a scorn-driven lifestyle of wealth and hollow satisfaction. It certainly kept me reading, so... good going, Eisner. I feel bad for the next kid, though.

I feel like "A Contract with God" and the other tenement stories are meant to show me that no one is as they initially appear. For instance, at first I see Frimme as a Disney-tier father figure and all-around good man, and then I realize that he truly only kept his faith under the constant, self-imposed restrictions he'd set for himself as a child? That seems fickle at best; it appeared as though he didn't even try to see how, possibly, God hadn't broken his side of the promise (but then again, I don't know what it was so... I guess I'll never really know that part about Frimme).

And the singer? Eddie? Royally SCREW that guy. A liar, drunk, oppressive husband, and a man who appears to lack any willpower, he's truly an amalgamation of some of my most hated aspects of people. But, knowing none of that at the beginning of his tale, I really liked the guy initially. I imagine Sinatra (who I'm sure is no goody-two-shoes either, but run with me on this) walking from alley to alley, providing entertainment just to earn a buck, and I was immediately rooting for him. So, again, no one is as they initially appear. Marta Maria, perhaps, but she wasn't exactly the focus of the story.

Now Mr. Scuggs is an interesting case, and quite the opposite from Eddie's. I really was not a fan at the beginning of his story, but if there's any way to get me on the side of a low-browed, ill-tempered, pedophiliac lug like him, it's to have him love a dog more than life itself. It's cheating, really; you show me anyone who loves dogs that much and I'm sold. Sure, he had a creepy perversion that's frowned upon in society, but at least he didn't appear to be acting upon it. Sure, he was rude to the tenants and harsh when they didn't have rent immediately, but, y'know, that was kind of his job.

And it'd take a damn long time to go over all of the "oh, this person is actually like this?" moments from the vacationers' stories, so let's just leave it at the fact that I had to mentally and emotionally u-turn about seven or eight times. Overall, I was surprised with myself at having read the whole thing -- normally I read enough to understand and then as much I can while still being entertained, but this entire collection was pretty riveting throughout. I should really check out more of Eisner's work.

-Will Avery

HC Anderson's "King"

I guess I'll start by saying how much I appreciate the visual gimmick of only having sharply contrasted blocks of black and white illustrate the scene in jagged, dangerous-looking forms; secondly, I'd like to voice my appreciation also for Anderson's use of breaking this visual motif for moments of significance. Obviously symbolism of the artistic choices aside, it's quite aesthetically pleasing and damn hard to pull off; every time I've tried to do the whole black/white contrast style, it never came out looking like anything close to this.

As a person who, for some reason or another, hasn't really been around much racism for the majority of my life, I've always found it pretty interesting to delve into a story like "King", or watch anything with a story like "King"; the Civil Rights era just contains so much inspiring material, it's hard not to enjoy the media focusing on those times. But even with my love of these kinds of things, and my decently long list of Civil Rights inspired work I've seen/processed, few moments came close (on the bummer-ometer) to when MLK's daughter asked if their family could go to the amusement park.

More often we're faced with the vision of adults dealing with the problems of racism; people who know how to react and know what's really going on and why. But I hadn't really thought of a child's viewpoint on the subject; it couldn't possibly make sense. What could be the reason to someone who already sees herself on the same level as every other human? Someone who doesn't see a difference between anyone in the whole spectrum of her community? When you're a child, especially, you tend to think that the whole world is against you when you're told that you can't have or do something, and it's a bit odd to think about how true that might be in this particular case.

-Will Avery

Maus: I'm Officially Depressed

Well, admittedly when I saw the cover of sunken-eyed mice, I didn't know quite what to think. Following that, I decided I would think "I won't be able to take this seriously".

WHOA.

NOPE.

MY FEELINGS.

I did indeed take it seriously. As soon as I got to the bit where one mouse is beaten for requesting a larger pair of shoes, I... I don't know, I guess I just got into this frame of mind where the world I was reading into became just a bit more real. I'd heard various stories about Auschwitz before (pretty much all of us have), but they were mostly about the extreme things, I now realize. The gas chambers, and lack of food, and the hard work were one thing, but for some crazy reason the idea of not even being able to wear clothes that fit you hit me harder.

It was a relatable pain, I guess. I could imagine walking around on rough terrain all day with no shoes, and pants that constrained my legs. I could imagine spending a night one a wooden floor with barely any room to move, let alone be comfortable. I'm pretty sure I've done both of those, actually. But every day? For weeks? Months? Years? The idea of having the body constantly racked with the pains of knowing no relief of any kind is absolutely horrifying to me. More horrifying still: what if it got so bad that something like the gas chamber could be seen as a mercy? A way out? I shudder to think.

See, that right there is an example of how I'm feeling right now, and where my mind is at. The fact that I got to that point from reading about mice being pushed around by cats and a pig? Mind-boggling.

-Will Avery

Tintin > Plastic Man

I'm going to be brief about the man of plastic because GOD DAMN it's weird. Actually, no, that's just about all I wanted to say. I'm a big fan of Mr. Fantastic (or as big a fan as you can be with a frame of reference consisting of the Venture Bros' parody character of a similar name), but I just can't get into this guy. He's way too into his own powers.

So screw it, let's talk about Tintin because I just spent a pretty solid chunk of my time reading "Tintin and the Blue Lotus" without realizing how late it had gotten. In general, when that happens, it's a pretty good sign that whatever you're reading is pretty freakin' good. I'd seen the movie from 2011, or maybe 2012 (I don't quite recall), and I did quite like the character of Tintin, but not quite enough to get off of my ass and read some old Tintin comics. My dad actually tried to get me to do so, as he'd read Tintin as a child whilst traveling the world as a military brat and related to him; I'm kind of glad that I can now talk to him about a big part of his childhood.

Anyway, analysis time. Not much to say about the art, as it's a gorgeous classical comic style that I can't really critique. It reminds me a bit of Asterix, and for some reason Beetle Bailey (though I'm not sure the reason for that... perhaps it's the Chinese military uniforms). One thing I will say about the actual content of the story that I'd read is that it seems fairly progressive as far as respecting other cultures goes. There's a distinct theme of orientalism among the white villains we're meant to loathe, and Tintin, whom we're meant to empathize with, is always befriending multicultural allies and commenting on how fascinating and respectable their societies are. I found that a bit strange for the time period, considering pre-WW2 wasn't the most tolerant of times. I'd say the work benefits from that, though; it really helps Tintin stick out as a hero with a heart of gold.

Side note, though... how old is he? He dodged a drive-by and beat the snot out of three burly prison guards in "Blue Lotus", so he's got to be some kind of weathered combat veteran.

-Will Avery

Krazy Konfusing

Well I must say, I've always heard of this "Windsor McKay" (hell of a name, huh?), and his "Little Nemo", but I'd never actually gotten a chance to read any. I've seen the cover of the animated film based on the series, but that'd been about it up until just now. Conceptually, I love it. As a child I was a huge fan of the show "Rugrats", which normally involved the imaginations of the infant characters running wild and mingling with reality -- clearly there's a similarity with Little Nemo, though you have to add in the context of dreaming. When you think about Nemo's situation realistically, though, I've just got to say that I feel so, so sorry for him. Nearly dying in your sleep on a nightly basis? Waking up your no-doubt furious parents so often that you'd probably have to endure several scoldings? Perhaps even be sent to a psychiatrist for your chronic night terrors? Count me out.

From an analytical standpoint, I've got one hang-up: the fact that there are speech bubbles in each panel, but also a narration of each panel at the bottom. Now we've all seen this before; normally this narration is used to provide context to what we're about to see ("Superman arrives at the bank and spots the crooks... with Dr. Mathews as a hostage!") or tie two scenes together ("Meanwhile, at the Fortress of Solitude..."), but rarely have I seen narration describing exactly what the visuals are already showing me in every single panel. It can get a bit difficult to read, too, as sentences will be cut in half between panels, often ending on "and" or "to, and that just makes me want to continue right on to the next scene without actually looking at the image yet. Contrarily, when I tried to read just the images, I felt compelled to double-check the narration to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Every time, I realized I'd already seen what I'd just read, and when I continue reading just to double back and take in the illustrations, I realized I'd already read what I'd just seen.

This strange back-and-forth process didn't affect my enjoyment of the piece, strangely enough (as I usually loathe repetition), so... I really can't knock it. Somehow, it works. Maybe it's because it meshes so well with the surreal "wait... what just happened?" kind of feeling you get when dreaming.

Now then, pertaining to the title of this post: Krazy Kat is weird. I also like it. Weird, though.

Goodnight.

-Will A.