Powers of Deduction

This one is for agentarsenic, who inspired this character’s return, especially by calling him the “bedridden cockless paedophile father”.

I AM WRITING A BLOODY NOVEL

The second draft of “Ares” is finally being written, almost two thousand words a day. Complementary research and promotional material are being made as I write it, which in other words means I’m incredibly fucking busy.

So for a (hopefully) small while, updates here will be scarce but for promotional material. Soon, will be back in full force, my millions and millions of readers.

*sobs*

Movie Review – The Wrestler

The most poignant, powerful films I’ve ever seen were also visually incredible. I have tried to think of an exception, but off the top of my head there are none. Chan Wook Park’s “Vengeance” trilogy, “Amelie”, “The Godfather” trilogy, my personal all-time favourite “Carlito’s Way” and also “Angel Heart”, which had Rourke as protagonist; all those films are visually beautiful, with symbolic compositions and camera movements that worked together with the actors to convey emotion and meaning.

Darren Aronofsky seemed to understand this approach, considering his films (that I’ve watched), the brilliant “Requiem for a Dream” and the poignant “The Fountain”, were both visually intelligent; in “Requiem”, the way a camera moves slowly through an apartment as the woman in it is seen on fast-forward, and in “The Fountain”, the recurring images that echo through the three different narratives and the way no CGI was used at all.

So it is a bit of a mystery why he thought “The Wrestler” should be filmed with no visual structure in mind. For half the film, the camera follows Mickey Rourke’s back and for the other half, it tries other angles without caring much for composition or elegance. Maybe Aronofsky thought this “documental” style would be better, but movies are a very visual medium and images can convey a lot — to rely solely on actors and forget camera work is seldom, if ever, a good idea.

Especially when the script itself is only decent. Yes, the characters act like humans, talk naturally and are coherent. But none of them are particularly complex to begin with, not even the protagonist, which is why the movie is so predictable. From the first time you see Randy “The Ram” Robinson, you can see how he’ll eventually have a nervous breakdown; how the stripper he talks to will eventually say he’s only a customer; how he’ll eventually let his daughter down again. However, Robinson is likeable due to his attempts at doing the right thing, his attention towards fans, his chronic inability to understand his own self-destructive nature. And of course, due to Mickey Rourke’s amazing performance, interpreting a veteran wrestler with perfection: the way he breathes heavily, the way he almost casually cuts his own forehead during a fight, the way he barely reacts to having something thrown at his face. Rourke carries the movie on his back and saves it from being just another fighter flick. And even then, his performance in this film is nowhere near the absolute genius of his work in “Angel Heart” — which went unnoticed, ironically.

The rest of the cast also contributes to make “The Wrestler” more than a schematic screenplay: Marisa Tomei is completely comfortable as a stripper, not hesitating to show her naked body to the camera, which in this case is narratively important (although it’s not very convincing, the way customers reject her for being too old when her body is clearly amazing); and when the movie tries to add some depth to her character, she succeeds in illustrating the stripper’s fear of crossing the line as a professional and allowing further involvement with Randy. Evan Rachel Wood, as the protagonist’s daughter, manages to show the humanity behind her “hate” for her father, which makes her decision in the end of the film understandable. The rest of the cast, comprised of amateur actors, are very convincing.

Aronofsky, sadly, thought this would be enough, and limits himself to pointing the camera to the actors’ faces or following Randy around. When the movie does try a more elaborate composition, it stands out negatively as such due to how rarely this happens. In fact, one of the few moments where I felt Aronofsky was indeed the director is when Randy is going down the stairs to work on a mundane job and, as we follow him, we hear the roar of the crowd as he imagines himself heading for the stage.

The dialogue isn’t great either, but it works in its simplicity due to the protagonist being, after all, a simple man; therefore, it suits him down to the ground. But it is anti-climatic how, in the moment he tries to apologise to his daughter while looking out at the sea, the conversation they have is too simple and Aronofsky cuts the scene too quickly, not letting it go as deep as it could; there’s nothing wrong with a movie being predictable if that contributes to its dramatic power, but when the scenes don’t do justice to their potential, there’s a problem.

“The Wrestler” is an overrated film. Good, entertaining, provides some insight into the fake and self-flagellating world of wrestling; but at its core, it’s another predictable fighter story with no visual style and that could have used more interesting characters that didn’t rely so much on their interpreters being hugely talented. The scene where Jared Leto witnesses Ellen Burstyn under the effect of diet pills and cries afterwards in “Requiem for a Dream” and the moment Hugh Jackman lies on a bathtub with Rachel Weisz in “The Fountain” are both individually more powerful than this competent, but unimpressive film.

Rachael Noel’s Etsy Store

My friend Rachael Noel has started an Etsy Store. She is one of the most talented photographers I’ve ever met, and a great painter whose ability with colours always astounds me. A few examples:

And here’s one of her paintings:

And here’s where you can buy all that.

Happy Easter

And a bonus strip. This was actually going to be the strip today, but after I finished it, I wondered if a joke like this hadn’t already been made. So I googled it and it had been made more than once. So, I decided to go for something more original for the main strip. Anyway, here it is:

Comics Review – The Boys #29, Gravel #10, Prototype #01, Doktor Sleepless #12 and Ignition City #01

(not an original cover, but they always look good walking toward us like that)

The Boys #29

Written by Garth Ennis

Art by Darick Robertson

Colours by Tony Avina

Lettering by Simon Bowland

Published by Dynamite Entertainment

In a nutshell: a surprising twist that makes even Billy Butcher widen his eyes makes this an intense and excellent issue with good art that could, however, be better inked.

“The Boys” has been in a slow crescendo for some time now, with subtle foreshadowing amidst the depravity of its dirty universe. Garth Ennis clearly knows where he’s going with this and is in no hurry to get there — and that would be a problem for a less skilled writer who didn’t know how to reward the reader with information enough to satisfy his thirst for answers. But every issue brings another little tidbit of plot that makes the story more interesting and makes me look forward even more to the next issue — and most importantly, every issue is at the very least well-written and entertaining.

This one starts with a good prologue that quickly gives way to Butcher and his team interrogating the last surviving member of the G-Wiz, after The Female and the Frenchman slaughtered them to save Hughie (whose cover was blown). The remainder of the issue happens in this scenario, and for perhaps the first time, we see Hughie take a serious initiative. But while Hughie is the most likeable character of this series, Butcher continues to be by far the most interesting and threatening — which is why it comes as a surprise to see him being caught completely off-guard as he is here.

The dialogue and plot progression are as excellent as I’ve come to expect from Ennis — it’s always a bitch to review his work because I just find myself repeating the same points that he always gets right. Darick Robertson, on the other hand, is quite more inconsistent — his artwork in this series has gone from stellar to lazy and to stellar again, although it was never below average. Here, he draws some great panels and some confusing ones (on the second half of the issue) and the problem becomes very clear — his inking is problematic.

You can clearly see some lines being curvy and elegant and others being sketchy and thick, often on the same panel — or an excess of black that makes the artwork seem muddled. Artists like David Lloyd use this to great effect but Robertson does not. He clearly likes to ink his own artwork, and it’s not easy to submit your pencils to an inker with his own style and ideas — but Robertson’s art is far, far better when inked by someone like Rodney Ramos or Tom Palmer. An example is Ramos’ inking in some pages of issue #11 (if I’m not mistaken) of this series, which look so much better than the rest of that episode which was inked by Robertson himself.

An example is the aforementioned second half of this episode — some pages are a downright mess, and I can easily picture the competent colour artist Tony Avina not having the faintest idea of where to start. On the other hand, the last pages are breathtaking, especially the moment a certain character stands right in front of another, face-to-face.

Simon Bowland’s lettering is very good, with efficient balloon placement and intense font sizes — I especially like how he switches that depending on distance in a certain page, when a character yells something and his font is big — and on the next panel, he’s seen still yelling from a distance, and his font is now far smaller to give us an idea of how far he is. Bowland’s one problem continues to be the big font he always uses for The Legend, which is supposed to show he talks loudly, but instead makes the other characters sound like they’re whispering — but The Legend is not featured in this issue, so the problem is non-existent here.

With an epilogue incoming on issue #30, which marks this series’ transition to its second half, “We Gotta Go Now” has been another intriguing and excellent arc that expands the fascinating universe of “The Boys”, where superheroes are just another version of celebrities.

(simplicity works)

Gravel #10

Written by Warren Ellis and Mike Wolfer

Art by Mike Wolfer

Colours by Juanmar

Published by Avatar Press

In a nutshell: despite not doing justice to the powerful cliffhanger from the previous issue, it moves all the subplots forward and is, as usual, a very interesting read with art that is an example of exceptional visual narrative.

I did feel a bit bummed at how the cliffhanger of the previous issue — Gravel getting his entire fucking arm cut off — was quickly solved here, almost as an afterthought. Ellis and Wolfer offer some clues on how Gravel glues it back on and that’s about it — but fortunately, they use the spare pages this buys them to advance the plot, with an excellent conversation between Gravel and Mordecai Cave, and the introduction of a promising new character.

It’s good that Gravel is always consistent in being a bastard, which is, after all, one of the things that makes him so interesting. His impatient reply to Mordecai Cave was a great touch, and watching him work is always fascinating — like the way he casually seals his door with protective magic before going out. But in the second half of this episode, Ellis and Wolfer add a new character which is so far very interesting and very necessary to keep the plot moving.

On the art department, Wolfer continues to please with his perfect visual storytelling — you can always understand what is going on, and his composition and angles are so good I don’t mind the shortcomings of his style — his faces, for example, which can look very strange now and then. He also shares with Jacen Burrows an immense talent for drawing backgrounds and perspective, and placing characters in them. In fact, now that I think about it, most of Avatar’s artists are remarkably good in this aspect — Raulo Caceres’ covers for “Doktor Sleepless” are always fucking breathtaking, and Gianluca Pagliarani’s “Ignition City” — as I’ll say in the review — looks absolutely amazing. But back to “Gravel #10″: Juanmar’s colors are also pretty and the palette, well-chosen to match the time of day and the surroundings.

“Gravel” is not a mind-blowing series so far — but it is certainly an interesting one, and a good read.

(An excellent, attractive cover)

Prototype #01

Written by Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray

Art by Darick Robertson and Matt Jacobs

Colours by Wes Hartman

Lettering by Ed Dukeshire

Published by Wildstorm

In a nutshell: fast-paced, entertaining and visually good, it surprises by having a charm of its own instead of being the usual promotional garbage comics based on upcoming games are.

On my “Back to Brooklyn #3″ review, I said I thought most of Jimmy Palmiotti’s (and consequently his partner Justin Gray’s) work was cliched and uninspired — so I’m glad to see a comic by them contradicting that. Despite not being based on an original concept, “Prototype #01″ has enough story to be enjoyable and respectable, avoids cheesy dialogue and looks quite good.

In fact, Darick Robertson’s art looks better here than it does on “The Boys” — probably because he’s working with someone else, Matt Jacobs, who finishes his art well. The visual narrative is as good as I’ve come to expect from Robertson, and the only problem is the exaggerated scowling by some characters with huge gritted teeth. Also, the artwork is somewhat weakened by the cretinous sounds Palmiotti and Gray write — like a car explosion being represented by “BADOOOSH!”. Wes Hartman’s colours are surprisingly detailed and well-rendered, adding depth to Robertson and Jacobs’ work.

The dialogue isn’t incredible but it isn’t preposterous either, sounding very natural — the one exception being the moment a character makes a joke regarding “ford” which happens in an inappropriate time, too dangerous and tense to try to be funny — but then again, the character who says it seems like an experienced fighter, so it isn’t unacceptable. The story manages to stay interesting, going from flashbacks to the present and not afraid to show violence — which is occasionally a bit camp thanks again to the sound effects — like a bite sounding like “SLUTCHH!”. Fortunately, despite those, letterer Ed Dukeshire does an all around excellent job.

For a first issue of a comic based on a videogame, this is promising work. It looks like Palmiotti and Gray want to extract as much as possible from the plot, which is commendable and tries its best to kick down the wall between games and art.

(a cover that doesn’t say much about the actual story)

Doktor Sleepless #12

Written by Warren Ellis

Art by Ivan Rodriguez

Colours by Andrew Dalhouse

Published by Avatar Press

In a nutshell: enigmatic and brilliant, it feels like a mad scientist book from beginning to end, introducing a number of interesting ideas while moving a fascinating plot forward with competent artwork — bad colouring notwithstanding.

Heavenside is a warzone — a warzone created by Doktor Sleepless, whose real goals are unknown to the general public. For them, he’s just a crazy preacher who stays on top of his castle and does eccentric things. In this arc, Warren Ellis decided to disappear with him and show us the ripples of his interaction with Heavenside. For several issues now, we haven’t seen John Reinhardt — just the consequences of his actions.

Which is a brilliant narrative choice. Not only it makes the character even more interesting than he already was, it also gives him a godly aura, like a great puppeteer. It’s fascinating to follow the events of Heavenside and seeing how they can be tracked back to him. And besides that, Ellis introduces, in this issue, a gang based on an exceptional concept. Their conversation with Detective Singer is the highlight of this episode — and the way the cop respects them just adds to her intelligence.

The dialogue, by the way, is finally the way I like it. I have been complaining about Warren Ellis’ lack of character voice recently — how every character he was writing seemed to talk like HIM, not like themselves. But this problem seems to be fixed, as the dialogue here is dynamic and interesting.

Ivan Rodriguez’s art is narratively excellent as usual, and offers several panels that don’t need to be big in order to look great. I especially like the one where the leader of the aforementioned gang lifts his shades to reveal the device on his left eye. The one moment that felt a bit gratuitous was the shot of the reporter’s arse wearing a thong — not that I’m complaining, you know. Just from a — erm, narrative standpoint. Yes. Still a very well-drawn arse.

The problem is Andrew Dalhouse’s colouring. He’s been getting worse and worse, and now, he doesn’t even bother to add a little texture to surfaces, or even to shade them. His carelessness can be seen when detective Singer’s eyes suddenly go from brown to blue in a pretty big panel — and I don’t know if the grinder symbol on the reporter’s shirt is Rodriguez’s or Dalhouse’s responsibility, but it’s not there either.

An excellent issue of an ongoing that is becoming quite an amazing series — much more than it initially promised.

(And I should add: Raulo Caceres’ wraparound covers are fucking amazing and it’s ridiculous not a single Avatar artist was nominated for an Eisner award.)

(Holy. Shit.)

Ignition City #01

Written by Warren Ellis

Art by Gianluca Pagliarani

Colours by Digikore Studios

Published by Avatar Press

In a nutshell: huge, funny, amazing, beautiful and downright enchanting. “Ignition City”, in its very first issue, can turn out to be one of Warren Ellis’ best minis.

“Ignition City” is one of those books that awes you for its entire duration. Full of fascinating ideas, a steampunk feel and an excellent sense of humor, it’s the kind of book I’d love to see more of in comics — it’s Warren Ellis at his best. And considering I deeply disliked “Aetheric Mechanics”, it’s very good to see him and Gianluca Pagliarani collaborating on something so promising and wonderful.

It’s 1956. In an alternate reality where the Second World War happened, but in a world that is no stranger to space exploration, pilot Mary Raven receives the news that her father has died in Ignition City — Earth’s last remaining spaceport. With no-one reliable in there, Mary needs to fly there herself to go get his effects.

One of this book’s greatest achievements is to make the protagonist instantly likeable. Not only beautiful and charming, the way she responds to the death of her father is remarkably humane. A great example is when a friend asks her if the telegram she just received is bad news, to which she responds “Kinda. My father’s dead.” Clearly not having absorbed the meaning of it yet. And the way she cries in her bedroom is poignant while avoiding exaggeration.

In fact, “Ignition City” seems full of great characters — my favourite being Yuri, the hilarious foul-mouthed cosmonaut whose lines are pure fucking gold. But Piet Vanderkirk and Bronco are also interesting and funny.

Gianluca Pagliarani’s art — with a fantastic sepia colour art by Digikore Studios — is simply breath-taking. I complained he had a problem with drawing faces in “Aetheric Mechanics”, but here, his human figures are very good and the backgrounds, magnificent. I muttered swearwords in awe upon seeing the two-page-spread showing Ignition City from above — and I have to add that the way Digikore Studios shaded the island makes it seem even more real. This is amazing artwork, certainly the best I’ve seen this week.

“Ignition City” is a potential masterpiece — I don’t usually praise a book on its first issue, but this one introduces enough characters, story, wit and charm to be satisfying all on its own.

Flash Fic #11 – Vanity Unfair

Jenna needed a MySpace profile picture. This posed a problem to her enormously large self. She already had drastically low self-esteem, and her mates in school weren’t exactly helpful with their commentaries, which went from “you could hide a goddamn fridge in that thigh” to “call Greenpeace, we have a beached whale situation”. She had instantly broken two chairs by sitting on them, and any chair she regularly used lasted about three weeks until the metal legs bent to half the original length. She was the fattest girl in her class. She might have gone unnoticed if most of her female classmates weren’t as pretty as they were. And if everyone in there was blind.

Her mother, who also needed constant help to be unstuck from door frames, defended her daughter’s fat arse with medieval arguments like “she’s just very healthy!” or modern ones like “do you want her to be one of those skeletal fashion models?”, to which the husband usually replied, “no, I just don’t want to buy new furniture every goddamn week”. He no longer worried whether Jenna was in earshot. Ignoring him, Jenna’s mother bought her self-help books about living with your own fat and being proud of it. None of them came even close to suggesting a diet and were written by people who seemed to think eating a carrot instead of a Big Mac meant instant anorexia.

And now, Jenna needed a MySpace picture. She had filled her profile with famous and clever quotes by people she’d never heard of before googling “famous and clever quotes”; she claimed to have read Machiavelli’s “The Prince”, which she hadn’t and therefore assumed was a “wonderful fairy tale”; she described herself as “a sweet and sensitive person with attractive qualities”. But the space for a profile pic was empty, and she couldn’t live with that.

So Jenna took her camera out, as she did often. She liked to snap pictures of herself, what she didn’t like were the pictures. But she’d find a way, oh she would. She’d found a tutorial on the net for this kind of thing: angles, lighting and other stuff that favoured the subject. It didn’t seem very honest, but everyone else did it, Jenna thought. Even the pretty girls. So why not her?

She held the camera at arm’s length, raised it above her head, on a high angle, gave the camera a sexy look, made sure a light source was close to her face – in this case, a lampstand – and she snapped the pic.

It looked bizarre. The light source created a shadow in every crevice, wrinkle and zit on her face. The light was supposed to be strong enough and angled in a way it would outshine any of those and make her skin look perfect. But she needed to lower her face and raise the camera to hide her triple chin. And the lampstand was below her face and very heavy. So she kneeled and faced the lampstand, level with it. She put the camera right in front of her eyes, lowered her head and snapped another shot.

Now the shadow of her hand holding the cellphone covered half her face. She sighed irritably and corrected the angle, but her knees weren’t holding all that weight well. Jenna sat down on the floor – which startled the neighbor on the apartment below, and the one below his – and tried taking another shot. But no angle she chose, no matter how close or far from the light source, was able to make her imperfections disappear –

– until she finally took one that was exactly the perfect angle and perfect lighting, not a mark on her — but she’d forgotten to make the sexy face.

She dropped the camera on her bed, opened the window and leaned out, breathing deep and enjoying the cool night wind and the bright city skyline to calm down. Maybe if she learned Photoshop instead…

… wait, she could switch the light source, she thought. There was the lamp on the ceiling fan. It was already above her, so it would be perhaps easier to get the angle right. She grabbed the camera and climbed on the bed after three attempts. She eagerly raised the camera –

– and the camera’s cord caught on the ceiling fan, which yanked it from her hand, spun it around and hit her square in the face. She stumbled backwards off the bed, managing to stay on her feet –

– and fell out the opened window.

On the next day, there was a crater in the middle of the street. When they removed her body from it with a crane (and after the crane was removed from the crater by two bigger cranes), they found a car under her. It was quite embarrassing when they found the ceiling fan with the camera still spinning, firmly trapped by the cord.

(pause to rant on the Eisner Awards)

I don’t care much about awards. The two I usually keep up with are the Academy Awards and the Eisner Awards, because they weigh in heavily on the sales of whatever they’re awarding, and I like good things being recognized as such and being bought by people. I still don’t care much about the final results, I just go “meh” and move on.

However, when have I ever missed an opportunity to rant?

2009 Eisner Awards Nominees

Best Short Story
“Actual Size” by Chris Ware, in Kramers Ergot 7 (Buenaventura Press)
“Chechen War, Chechen Women,” by Joe Sacco, in I Live Here (Pantheon)
“Freaks,” by Laura Park, in Superior Showcase #3 (AdHouse)
“Glenn Ganges in ‘Pulverize,’” by Kevin Huizenga, in Ganges #2 (Fantagraphics)
“Murder He Wrote,” by Ian Boothby, Nina Matsumoto, and Andrew Pepoy, in The Simpsons’ Treehouse of Horror #14 (Bongo)

I haven’t read any of those. No comment.

Best Continuing Series
All Star Superman. by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely (DC)
Fables, by Bill Willingham, Mark Buckingham, Steve Leialoha, Niko Henrichon, Andrew Pepoy, and Peter Gross (Vertigo/DC)
Naoki Urasawa’s Monster, by Naoki Urasawa (Viz)
Thor, by J. Michael Straczynski, Olivier Coipel, Mark Morales, and various (Marvel)
Usagi Yojimbo, by Stan Sakai (Dark Horse)

I might consider Grant Morrison a very, very overrated writer, but I give credit where credit is due: “All-Star Superman” is a great series. Issues 6 to 9 are the weakest, but have a great charm to them nonetheless. I don’t read “Fables” yet, and haven’t read any of the others.

Best Limited Series
Groo: Hell on Earth, by Sergio Aragonés and Mark Evanier (Dark Horse)
Hellboy: The Crooked Man, by Mike Mignola and Richard Corben (Dark Horse)
Locke & Key, by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez (IDW)
Omega the Unknown, by Jonathan Lethem, Karl Rusnak, and Farel Dalrymple (Marvel)
The Twelve, by J. Michael Straczynski and Chris Weston (Marvel)

“The Crooked Man”? Really? The first issue did not hook me, and I like “Hellboy”. Haven’t read any of the others, and I’m surprised not a single Avatar title is included. “Streets of Glory”, perhaps, deserved a nomination.

Best New Series
Air, by. G. Willow Wilson and M. K. Perker (Vertigo/DC)
Echo, by Terry Moore (Abstract Studio)
Invincible Iron Man, by Matt Fraction and Salvador Larocca (Marvel)
Madame Xanadu, by Matt Wagner, Amy Reeder Hadley, and Richard Friend (Vertigo/DC)
Unknown Soldier, by Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli (Vertigo/DC)

I’m glad to see the excellent “Unknown Soldier” included, but I find it strange that “Invincible Iron Man” — which had a lacklustre first issue — is included as well (I also doubt Fraction’s skills since his horrendous “Punisher War Journal”). Haven’t read the others, although I have been meaning to read “Air”.

Best Publication for Kids
Amulet, Book 1: The Stonekeeper, by Kazu Kabuishi (Scholastic Graphix)
Cowa! by Akira Toriyama (Viz)
Princess at Midnight, by Andi Watson (Image)
Stinky, by Eleanor Davis (RAW Junior)
Tiny Titans, by Art Baltazar and Franco (DC)

Haven’t read any. But some adult friends really enjoy “Tiny Titans”, saying it’s cute fun.

Best Publication for Teens/Tweens
Coraline, by Neil Gaiman, adapted by P. Craig Russell (HarperCollins Children’s Books)
Crogan’s Vengeance, by Chris Schweizer (Oni)
The Good Neighbors, Book 1: Kin, by Holly Black and Ted Naifeh (Scholastic Graphix)
Rapunzel’s Revenge, by Shannon and Dean Hale and Nathan Hale (Bloomsbury Children’s Books)
Skim, by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki (Groundwood Books)

Haven’t read any. Not even “Coraline”, which I must read eventually.

Best Humor Publication
Arsenic Lullaby Pulp Edition No. Zero, by Douglas Paszkiewicz (Arsenic Lullaby)
Chumble Spuzz, by Ethan Nicolle (SLG)
Herbie Archives, by “Sean O’Shea” (Richard E. Hughes) and Ogden Whitney (Dark Horse)
Petey and Pussy, by John Kerschbaum (Fantagraphics)
Wondermark: Beards of Our Forefathers, by David Malki (Dark Horse)

Ditto.

Best Anthology
An Anthology of Graphic Fiction, Cartoons, and True Stories, vol. 2, edited by Ivan Brunetti (Yale University Press)
Best American Comics 2008, edited by Lynda Barry (Houghton Mifflin)
Comic Book Tattoo: Narrative Art Inspired by the Lyrics and Music of Tori Amos, edited by Rantz Hoseley (Image)
Kramers Ergot 7, edited by Sammy Harkham (Buenaventura Press)
MySpace Dark Horse Presents, edited by Scott Allie and Sierra Hahn (Dark Horse)

Nope.

Best Digital Comic
Bodyworld, by Dash Shaw, www.dashshaw.com
Finder, by Carla Speed McNeil, www.shadowlinecomics.com/webcomics/#/finder/
The Lady’s Murder, by Eliza Frye, http://theladysmurder.elizafrye.com
Speak No Evil: Melancholy of a Space Mexican, by Elan Trinidad, www.theoryofeverythingcomics.com/SNE/
Vs., by Alexis Sottile & Joe Infurnari, www.smithmag.net/nextdoorneighbor/2008/12/08/story-18/

Er, nope.

Best Reality-Based Work
Alan’s War, by Emmanuel Guibert (First Second)
Blue Pills: A Positive Love Story, by Frederik Peeters (Houghton Mifflin)
Fishtown, by Kevin Colden (IDW)
A Treasury of XXth Century Murder: The Lindbergh Child, by Rick Geary (NBM)
What It Is, by Lynda Barry (Drawn & Quarterly)

(Maybe I need to broaden my horizons…)

Best Graphic Album—New
Alan’s War, by Emmanuel Guibert (First Second)
Paul Goes Fishing, by Michel Rabagliati (Drawn & Quarterly)
Skim, by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki (Groundwood Books)
Swallow Me Whole, by Nate Powell (Top Shelf)
Three Shadows, by Cyril Pedrosa (First Second)

… “Joker”? Where the hell is “Joker”?

Best Graphic Album—Reprint
Berlin Book 2: City of Smoke, by Jason Lutes (Drawn & Quarterly)
Hellboy Library Edition, vols. 1 and 2, by Mike Mignola (Dark Horse)
Sam & Max Surfin’ the Highway anniversary edition HC, by Steve Purcell (Telltale Games)
Skyscrapers of the Midwest, by Joshua W. Cotter (AdHouse)
The Umbrella Academy, vol. 1: Apocalypse Suite deluxe edition, by Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá (Dark Horse)

Seriously, where the hell is “Joker”?

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips
The Complete Little Orphan Annie, by Harold Gray (IDW)
Explainers, by Jules Feiffer (Fantagraphics)
Little Nemo in Slumberland, Many More Splendid Sundays, by Winsor McCay (Sunday Press Books)
Scorchy Smith and the Art of Noel Sickles (IDW)
Willie & Joe, by Bill Mauldin (Fantagraphics)

“Joker”! Where! (haven’t read any of those)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books
Breakdowns: Portrait of the Artist as a Young %@&*! by Art Spiegelman (Pantheon)
Creepy Archives, by various (Dark Horse)
Elektra Omnibus, by Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz (Marvel)
Good-Bye, by Yoshihiro Tatsumi (Drawn & Quarterly)
Herbie Archives, by “Sean O’Shea” (Richard E. Hughes) and Ogden Whitney (Dark Horse)

… nope.

Best U.S. Edition of International Material
Alan’s War, by Emmanuel Guibert (First Second)
Gus and His Gang, by Chris Blain (First Second)
The Last Musketeer, by Jason (Fantagraphics)
The Rabbi’s Cat 2, by Joann Sfar (Pantheon)
Tamara Drewe, by Posy Simmonds (Mariner/Houghton Mifflin)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Japan
Cat Eyed Boy, by Kazuo Umezu (Viz)
Dororo, by Osamu Tezuka (Vertical)
Naoki Urasawa’s Monster, by Naoki Urasawa (Viz)
The Quest for the Missing Girl, by Jiro Taniguchi (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)
Solanin, by Inio Asano (Viz)

Nope and nope.

Best Writer
Joe Hill, Lock & Key (IDW)
J. Michael Straczynski, Thor, The Twelve (Marvel)
Mariko Tamaki, Skim (Groundwood Books)
Matt Wagner, Zorro (Dynamite); Madame Xanadu (Vertigo/DC)
Bill Willingham, Fables, House of Mystery (Vertigo/DC)

Ah, finally…

…

I haven’t actually read any of this. But wait — where is Azzarello? I’m not surprised Ennis is forgotten, of course, but where is Azzarello for “Joker”? And I don’t read “100 Bullets” (yet) but I thought it was going very well?

Best Writer/Artist
Ricky Geary, A Treasury of XXth Century Murder: The Lindbergh Child (NBM); J. Edgar Hoover (Hill & Wang)
Emmanuel Guibert, Alan’s War (First Second)
Jason Lutes, Berlin (Drawn & Quarterly)
Cyril Pedrosa, Three Shadows (First Second)
Nate Powell, Swallow Me Whole (Top Shelf)
Chris Ware, Acme Novelty Library (Acme)

Haven’t read any of this. Holy shit.

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team
Gabriel Bá, The Umbrella Academy (Dark Horse)
Mark Buckingham/Steve Leialoha, Fables (Vertigo/DC)
Olivier Coipel/Mark Morales, Thor (Marvel)
Guy Davis, BPRD (Dark Horse)
Amy Reeder Hadley/Richard Friend, Madame Xanadu (Vertigo/DC)
Jillian Tamaki, Skim (Groundwood Books)

Okay, let me get this straight: no Lee Bermejo, no Steve Dillon, no Steve McNiven, no Jacen Burrows, no Juan Jose Ryp? Right. Sure. You’re the professionals.

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist
Lynda Barry, What It Is (Drawn & Quarterly)
Eddie Campbell, The Amazing Remarkable Monsieur Leotard (First Second)
Enrico Casarosa, The Venice Chronicles (Ateliér Fio/AdHouse)
Scott Morse, Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! (Red Window)
Jill Thompson, Magic Trixie, Magic Trixie Sleeps Over (HarperCollins Children’s Books)

… haven’t read any.

Best Cover Artist
Gabrial Bá, Casanova (Image); The Umbrella Academy (Dark Horse)
Jo Chen, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Serenity (Dark Horse); Runaways (Marvel)
Amy Reeder Hadley, Madame Xanadu (Vertigo/DC)
James Jean, Fables (Vertigo/DC); The Umbrella Academy (Dark Horse)
Matt Wagner, Zorro (Dynamite); Grendel: Behold the Devil (Dark Horse)

That not a single Avatar artist is included here just has to be a joke.

Best Coloring
Steve Hamaker, Bone: Ghost Circles, Bone: Treasure Hunters (Scholastic Graphix)
Trish Mulvihill, Joker (DC), 100 Bullets (Vertigo/DC)
Val Staples, Criminal, Incognito (Marvel Icon)
Dave Stewart, Abe Sapien: The Drowning, BPRD, The Goon, Hellboy, Solomon Kane, The Unbrella Academy (Dark Horse); Body Bags (Image); Captain America: White (Marvel)
Chris Ware, Acme Novelty Library #19 (Acme)

Yay, “Joker”. Glad to see the competent Trish Mulvihill getting a nomination but — Val Staples? For “Criminal” and “Incognito”? The color scheme on those books is pretty simple, if efficient — not nearly award-worthy, though. And Dave Stewart gets his umpteenth nomination, of course — he’s excellent.

Best Lettering
Faryl Dalrymple, Omega: The Unknown (Marvel)
Jimmy Gownley, Amelia Rules! (Renaissance)
Scott Morse, Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! (Red Window)
Nate Powell, Swallow Me Whole (Top Shelf)
Chris Ware, Acme Novelty Library #19 (Acme)

… where in the hell is Clem Robins? Am I missing something here? The people who read through “Unknown Soldier” somehow failed to notice his excellent work? Are these five books so good in that aspect that Robins could be left out? This baffles me.

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism
Comic Book Resources, produced by Jonah Weiland (www.comicbookresources.com)
The Comics Journal, edited by Gary Groth, Michael Dean, and Kristy Valenti (Fantagraphics)
The Comics Reporter, produced by Tom Spurgeon and Jordan Raphael (www.comicsreporter.com)
Comics Comics, edited by Timothy Hodler and Dan Nadel (www.comicscomicsmag.com) (PictureBox)

Don’t read ‘em, no comment.

Best Comics-Related Book
Bill Mauldin: A Life Up Front, by Todd DePastino (Norton)
Brush with Passion: The Art and Life of Dave Stevens, edited by Arnie and Cathy Fenner (Underwood)
Drawing Words and Writing Pictures, by Jessica Abel and Matt Madden (First Second)
Kirby: King of Comics, by Mark Evanier (Abrams)
The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America, by David Hajdu (Picador/Farrar, Straus & Giroux)

Didn’t read any.

Best Publication Design
Breakdowns: Portrait of the Artist as a Young %@&*! designed by Art Spiegelman (Pantheon)
Comic Book Tattoo, designed by Tom Muller, art direction by Rantz Hoseley (Image)
Hellboy Library Editions, designed by Cary Grazzini and Mike Mignola (Dark Horse)
What It Is, designed by Lynda Barry (Drawn & Quarterly)
Willie and Joe, designed by Jacob Covey (Fantagraphics)

Nope.

Well, that was underwhelming. Either a lot of books that don’t interest me got nominated or I need to read even more. Well, whatever. Back to work.

Flash Fic #10 – Medical Discovery

“We’re not sure of what this is, Mr Kenneth,” the doctor said, after a long silence trying to find a satisfying explanation and failing. He pulled a few sheets of paper from an envelope, selected one and put it over the desk, facing me.

It showed a normal-looking brain, with a black spot growing from the left hemisphere, a veiny thing extending its tentacles all over the organ.

And that was my tomography.

I choked. “Is that a tumour?”

“If it is, it’s a completely different kind of tumour, one we’ve never heard of,” the doctor said, pulling two other sheets of paper from the pile and putting them side by side on the desk. Two more tomographies showing the same brain, only the black spot’s “tentacles” were now in… different positions.

I couldn’t hold back a nervous chuckle. “It fucking moves?“

The doctor nodded, trying to stay professional. “Its tentacles penetrate your brain and result in nosebleeds, passing out and loss of memory.”

“It’s a living thing, doctor?”

“We’re not sure…”

“It’s humping my damn brain.“

“Not… well… yes, that’d be a way to put it.”

“And how do we stop it?”

The doctor didn’t know what to say. “It’s new, Mr Kenneth. Me and my colleagues have no idea.”

“I have a perverted tumour in my brain, doc. I’d say surgery is required.”

“We don’t know if it’s connected to your brain somehow, Mr Kenneth. It dies, you die, perhaps.”

“What is this, an ‘Alien’ flick?”

“It’s a tumour humping your brain. Anything is possible.”

I sat back in the chair, running my fingers through my hair. “So… what do we do?”

“We study it, we see what we can do.”

“And meanwhile it keeps raping my left hemisphere?”

“It’s not like we can buy it a condom, Mr Kenneth.”

It was a completely justified punch.

My E-Mail Was Incorrect\I Am An Idiot

It’s andrenavarro.3@gmail.com

Yes, I had written it andrenavarro_3 on the “About” section because that was my old hotmail (which I use for other stuff) and I stupidly confused them. It’s fixed now.

So if anyone sent me an e-mail in the last — er — two weeks and didn’t get a reply, please send it again through the fixed adress. And sorry.

*proceeds to hit own head on wall repeatedly*