Contemporary relationships are explored in Pet Rocks – the featured issue-long strip of Manhole #3 – as an assortment of males orbit the lives of two backstage rock-chicks: the placid Bea and the freewheeling Carrie. At first kindred spirits, the intimacy between the pair soon disintegrates when Carrie's boyfriend mysteriously disappears and she refuses to own up to her frustration and unhappiness. There exists here a sense of an emotional and authorial gap being filled by the daydreams and aspirations of cartoonist Mardou. Though she creates not so much a romanticised reality as an idealised one, there remains an absence of the kind of sustained conflict that fuels the dramatic conviction of a writer. Furthermore, what Mardou writes seems so defined by her reading choices that this work smacks of simulation. As a result, things like the bittersweet ending feel hollow and unearned, and the story has shape as it goes through the motions but possesses no satisfying thesis. The telling, however, is fine-tuned, the cartooning fluent and assured, and the scripting fluid and engaging. The issue is perfectly enjoyable.
40 A4-ish pages for $3/£2, available from USS Catastrophe
In a session with his therapist a young man struggling for emotional sustenance tentatively examines his psychological survival. Writer Liam Geraghty, in collaboration with Matter cartoonist Phil Barrett, employs a warm, good-humoured touch that sidesteps complexity and analysis in favour of throwaway pathos and a bland, more universal appeal. Comprising a series of mostly-symbiotic, mostly-slight one- and two-page strips that revisit resonant episodes in the protagonist's life (and, in the strips Wank and Slight Retort, that inadvertently revisit works by Dan Clowes and Adrain Tomine) this light brushing of the surface of poignant subject matter is delivered via the Clowes-inspired structure of fractured narrative, and proves a disciplined debut for Geraghty. Barrett's cartooning, as ever, is exquisite; his style possessed of a quiet humanity. Highlight of the issue is the visceral Nightmare, and Boy Campers – wherein our protagonist accidentally asks a pal's sister if he can sleep in her.
20 A5-ish pages for €3, available from www.blackshapes.com/
The antithesis of po-faced comics with inferred depth – which sidestep the writing process courtesy of the tolerance and inherent appeal of this seductive medium – Contraband insistently exhibits meaning and aspires to provide a substantial reading experience. However, stubbornly over-scripted missteps hijack this intent as author Thomas Behe uses characters illustratively and makes few concessions to authentic-sounding dialogue: all speak with the flat voice of a writer working strobe-like through his fine-tuned gripes and bite-size philosophies. Taken in isolation, these ill-humoured asides and acerbic convictions prove interesting, but in the context of Contraband's non-linear narrative, they add a desultory, disorienting clutter that obstructs the flow and momentum of the story.
The conceit which forms the fulcrum of this sci-fi speculation on a dystopian near-future requires little suspension of disbelief: violent mobile video abuse is the new contraband as the boundaries of privacy are blurred in a tech-savvy society that utilises portable digital media to capture and distribute reality torture-porn. When self-styled citizen journalist Toby is forced to hunt down a female activist sabotaging the globe's most controversial cellphone channel – Contraband – his search leads him 8mm-like into the ugly reality of a voyeur underground populated by profit-hungry youths disconnected from any sense of repression or conscience, and with insatiable thirst for celebrity; the progeny of the liberalisation of social taboos, and of our You-Tube culture of instant gratification.
Though the execution is flawed and the economical cartooning style of Phil Elliott and Jim Sharman delivers a homogenising processed-sheen (amplified by overindulgent line-spacing on the computer lettering), Contraband succeeds in imparting with eloquent vitriol the author's moral outrage and frustrations, which inevitably topple into misanthropy; Behe's despair at the decay of civilised society and at the culpability of human nature is palpable. But as the work unwieldily articulates his justifiable anger, one can't help but be soured to the all-pervasive cynicism of the superfluity of opinions and to the relative absence of redemption in the story. Conversely, a glass half-empty is no bad thing when said glass contains vile-tasting medicine that, ultimately, is of benefit. Contraband, then, is prescribed reading.
148 A5-ish pages, $12 from www.slgcomic.com
The dull routine of a pedantic bus-driver is the focus of this week-in-the-life vignette published by Cardboard Press. The route of the No. 230 double-decker through an unnamed urban cityscape allows promising creator Patrick Lynch adeptly demonstrate a fluid storytelling craft, while the familiar dialect and antics of passengers offer clues toward identifying its Irish location. The glimpse of drama offered by a denouement on-the-periphery isn't quite enough to counter the lulled doze prompted by the subdued rhythms of the work, but compositional know-how and grey washes add substance to the breezy cartooning style, and the creator's firm grasp of sequentialism make this unremarkable comic a diverting-enough ride/read. Ultimately then, Last Bus is a technically sound comic with more city-centre than emotional centre. Do stick your hand out, though.
24 squared A4-ish pages for €3, available from www.patrickl.net or www.cardboardpress.com
In part the writing of Michael J Weller is characterised by the seductive refrain of worn-out superhero mythologies, which accrue into passages of mystical, mantra-like transcendence. In this spirit, Slow Science Fictions #16 is as much incantation as it is the retelling of the origin of The Cosmic Crusaders/The Invincibles and of the history attached to their creation and development. Here, in a break with the typed-prose presentation of the series, Weller provides hand-lettered texts and illustrations that reintroduce the visual dialect of Space Opera, and which dip into the key moments and milieu in the evolution of his English superhero team. The fluid, organic cartooning style manages an affecting luminescence due to its serenely innocent quality, and as the book's focus deviates from delving into the continuity associated with overlapping reality tunnels and elevating tensions between the temporal and the divine – towards superhero trope-laden pleasures – this beguiling issue should prove the most accessible to date for a comics audience curious to sample Michael J Weller's particular utilisation of escapist fantasy.
32 A5 pages, £2 inc p&p, available from Mike Weller, 3 Queen Adelaide Court, Queen Adelaide Road, Penge, London SE20 7DZ, or pick up a copy at the London Underground Comics stall in Camden market. E-mail: mikejweller(at)hotmail.com Site: http://www.homebakedbooks.co.uk/wellerverse.htm
Additional 3World in 4Time comix, pics, videos, and comments: www.4time.wordpress.com, www.earthco.wordpress.com, www.blog2blog.wordpress.com, www.addingcombe.wordpress.com, www.myspace.com/mickweller, www.egnep.blogspot.com
A cyberspace data-encoded cipher, which mixes a Hebrew tetragrammaton and Kabalistic numerology, is solved by the Man-With-Blanked-Out-Eyes; his reward: a Bent Key to the Universe and access to the minds of the Guardians Of Life And Civilisation. The Wellerverse turns, and the Weller of this verse drinks himself silly and couldn't give a flying fart if nobody enjoys his slow fictions. Who exactly then is planting themselves into the hearts and minds of the Cosmic Squad, exploiting their doubts and confusions? The Duke and Duchess of Hell, or Weller himself?
Comics, television shows, websites and computer games featuring four Islamist superheroes – the Pioneers of Tomorrow – have been launched, and their packaging dazzles the youth of Syria, Iran and Swabiastan. Seduced by the glamorous depictions of the supermartyr team, conditioned youths are eager to play their part, gain celebrity, and see battle lines of cosmic war drawn between Jihadist new dreamers and the Cosmic Crusaders. The magical ancients call upon the martyrs to sacrifice life on earth for eternity in paradise.
Michael J Weller is up against it, and here, as he flashes the world a gimp of displeasure and continues to convert to creative matter the alarming stuff constantly streaming in from the environment, I'm reminded that the inability to properly "filter" incoming or internal stimuli and information sources has been linked to psychosis, and that the same processes that lead to madness in some, may result in extraordinary creativity and inventiveness in others. Weller possesses clarity of cognisance but writes like a madman. The result is a story of uncommon shape and oblique pertinence.
32 A5 pages, £2 inc p&p, available from Mike Weller, 3 Queen Adelaide Court, Queen Adelaide Road, Penge, London SE20 7DZ, or pick up a copy at the London Underground Comics stall in Camden market. E-mail: mikejweller(at)hotmail.com Site: http://www.homebakedbooks.co.uk/wellerverse.htm
Additional 3World in 4Time comix, pics, videos, and comments: www.4time.wordpress.com, www.earthco.wordpress.com, www.blog2blog.wordpress.com, www.addingcombe.wordpress.com, www.myspace.com/mickweller, www.egnep.blogspot.com
Bringing up the rear of my 24 hours of reviews.....
(yes, I have been planning that since the start, 27 hours ago)
"What could be better than a comic all about the trials and tribulations of underwear!? Featuring small press creators such as Jeremy Dennis, Lee Kennedy, Teacake, Motodraconis and Jason Elvis."
Pretty much as expected from that band this is a good read. Motodraconis moves away from adeptness in computer-aided-artwork to produce a hand drawn piece about bra sales which is quite technically skilled yet fresh. The better known Kennedy and Dennis in keeping with the theme meet their own high standards. Jason Elvis brings punk stylings and mirth to his tale.
Jenni Scott and Elizabeth Pacey give us an excellent underwear design history and discourse. American Gina Fusco gives us a cartoon diary piece, and New Zealands Linda Neville produces a few of this anthology's golden should-be-remembered catchphrases in her bursting with energy strips. Editor Debra Boyask gives us an account of the dark underworld of lingerie parties, rounding off with a spot piece by Camilla Stacey.
All good. Great range of different approaches from all across the globe. For me this collection keeps the delicate bits warm and avoids unecessarry chafing ! You can order a copy from publisher Selina Lock at Factor Fiction Press
A5, 1pound 50pence
Twelve page mini with pretty significant optimist pics of great spiritual depiction, and some conveying tiredness, melancholy and humour. Ruane does paint a multiple of styles, very tight black and white, watercolour greys and a tremendously lovely full-on wrap around cover. And of course, the welcome return of Tempin' Bear !
Details are etchy on the cost of this collection after a horrible case of printerfuck. A reprint may be likely, or not. To find out more details, contact Dierdre through her webs, at Epiphanycast
Remarkably graceful illustrations and articulate. Pete Beare is the cure for bringing me back into the world of raising a smile. Good wholesome comics, not tame.
Several copies of this will be with me at No Barcodes but please ask as they won't be on display.
Could be yours for about one pound fifty. Send an A5 sae with that to,
Peter Beare
4, Hill Road,
Penwortham,
Preston,
Or check by his website, Dangnabbit.com
Inside cover, small text paragraphs. "Has the room opposite Owen's, and conveniently, is dating him as well, which is nice". (first line) Well no, actually its not. I really hate comics that start with an introductory page were the reader exerts all that there is about the characters, eg. "Owen is the pillar of the household." Theres an assumption I care for these seven characters from the get-go and do I fuck. Sorry, but they're not my part-fictional constructs and its five lines of size 6 font. So I avoid the rest of that page and go straight for the comics.
Though an English book, its got a permeating American goodness to this tale of flatshare. Visually, it stechnically efficient though much of the dialogue lacks accentuation, and everyone looks lipglossed for prime-time Tv - at best, theres a girls comic feel to some of the visuals, the characters lost in an 80s pop haze. The first tale centres round the payment of rent, and a hostage situation at the estate agents. Other than that, its all a bit silly in a semi-serious sort of way.
Following, is a seven page story script between two of the characters attempting to develop their emotional relationship. Living in a bustling student town I can relate to these people, but removed from that social environment I'd be less sure of their existence. A tad waffly but not a terrible piece of writing. Its marred by my return reference to the character bios, in that context, theres inconsistency and unbelievability. Otherwise, well-formatted not terrible but adequate ear for dialogue that may be going somewhere.
The final strip involves a burglar who firebombs the flat. For some reason, I'm not quite sure. The author seems intent on making me think its all above board. Apart from the fish... The collection rounds out with a two and a half page email from one character to another about magical aura cleansing, at least I guess thats what its about.
Turns out these are pieces from a webcomic and the whole lots up online. Amidst worries about authors not understnading how the web can work to adapt their stuff, we here have a webcomic artist who doesnt understnad how print can best present their creative skills. Weird times.
Little attachment in this 32 page A5 colour cover. (2006)