Tag Archives: Comics

Why I love comics and you should too

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So following my recent run in with a year 7 student who informed that comics were for kids, I tried to pick apart what it is about comics that I love so much.

I have read comics for as long as I can remember, starting with the Beano (but never Dandy, I had my opinions even then!), then moving onto Eagle and Tiger and 2000AD. From there I discovered Silver Surfer, still one of my faves to this day and of course, then went to explore the Marvel universe. This was followed with everything else that I could lay my hands on.

What interests me is that while Sandman may have had a more emotional and profound effect on me than the Infinity Crisis, or Death of Superman, I gain as much enjoyment from reading either. There’s just something about the actual format that brings me great pleasure.

I think that I like being able to see characters, have an image presented to me. Despite my love of reading I still don’t necessarily build pictures in my head in the way that other people seem to. When there are particularly vivid descriptions, I will, but otherwise I have more of a sense about a character, rather than an image of them. Comics enable me to have the picture and the story.

I also love the artwork, and the atmosphere that it gives the comic, be it the glorious black and white pop art of Love and Rockets, the naturalism of Strangers in Paradise, or the hyper stylised world of Marvel and DC.

I love that whilst the comic comes from the writers’ head, it is brought into being by the artist. This synergy is for me what makes comics so unique as an art form.

 

 

Comics are for kids…One students’ perception of Spiderman and why I disagree

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I had a fascinating conversation with some of my students this term about Spiderman.

 

 

I have a cardboard cut-out of Spiderman hanging in my classroom and am often asked “why?” to which I ask the student rather smugly “why doesn’t every classroom have one?” Normally the class will laugh, slightly pityingly and the lesson will continue. In this instance however, the girl told me in simple terms that Spiderman sucked. Holding back my righteous anger and staying my hand as it reached for the sword I keep hidden beneath my desk, I responded instead with a restrained, “so why’s that then?”

She calmly explained that Spiderman was for little kids. Assailed with that kind of logic, I calmed the class and decided that, in order to maintain my sense of decorum, we should continue learning about African drumming. However, as the lesson ended and the class began again to discuss the merits or lack of comics, I couldn’t restrain myself.

Though the rage was boiling inside me and temptation to launch into a tirade of abuse was almost overwhelming, I took deep breaths and spoke calmly. The comment I made was that I thought it was a dangerously limiting belief to think that the addition of pictures to a story made it any less relevant or enjoyable. I used the obvious comparison of a movie to support my point.

Feeling better now that the natural order of the world was restored, I continued with my day.

 

Review – Strangers in Paradise by @TerryMoore

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This is one of the most individual, heart-wrenching and wonderful comics ever written. Following the colourful, fallible and ultimately human Katchoo, Francine and David, and a host of equally lovable supporting characters, the series takes them from a semi-normal suburban life to shoot outs with hit-women and the most frustrating love triangle ever written.

The comics are writ through with humour and passion, anger and sadness. Indeed it is the emotional journey of the characters that resonates long after the story is finished. This is not a comic for fans of lycra-clad dudes pummelling one another. If however you want to read a story that feels real, that sucks you in and makes you care deeply for the people in it, this may be for you.

Of course, the art also has to be mentioned. Beautifully drawn, this is another step up from superhero comics. Every character is unique, and not just because they have a different costume. Face shape, expressions, build, everything belongs wholly to the character. Terry Moore also uses his lettering to fabulous effect, angry words leaping across and outside panels.

With artwork that sings and words reminiscent of Gone with Wind crossed with just a dash of Tarantino, Strangers in Paradise may not be to everyone’s taste, but I urge you to at least give it a try. If you can get to the end of the first comic without falling for at least one of the characters, then you probably aren’t entirely human.

 

The thing that makes Terry Moore so compelling and moving to read

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Terry Moore, creator of the wonderful Strangers in Paradise. There have been a million reviews of Strangers, mostly focusing on how Terry writes female characters. When I cajoled my wife into reading the series, she spent the first few graphics assuming that Terry was a woman, a not uncommon event.

However, whilst I agree whole heartedly with those reviews, it’s not his female characterisation that really gets me. The thing I love about Strangers in Paradise and indeed everything that he writes, is his dialogue.

His characters sound very natural, using rhythms and words that ring true. At the same time, he isn’t afraid to throw in a sentence that wouldn’t be out of place in a Hollywood movie. I think that the naturalism of most of it makes the filmic parts work and not jar, which they easily could. The comics in general have that feeling of heightened reality; real people in not quite real situations, but reacting in very real ways.

In many ways, that last sentence is perhaps a great definition of effective fiction. Once the audience believes in the characters, you can create situations that make for interesting and dynamic stories. The challenge is then creating reactions that are genuine and real and the dialogue to go with them.

Terry Moore is the master at this. It’s impossible to not get invested in his characters, even when they are involved in entirely mad situations.

The thing about Warren Ellis…

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Warren Ellis, the fabulous comic author, in particular the creator of Transmetropolitan.  I love his ability to combine things in one story that simply shouldn’t work. The skill I am most jealous of though is the way in which he can bring humour into pretty much every frame yet never detract from the story that is playing out, or seem cheesy or over-the-top.

His comics blend so many different factors that all demand an emotional response; yet never seem forced or shoehorned in for the sake of it. His characters are incessantly railing against all manner of inequalities and wrongs yet at the same time will exhibit views both shocking yet head-shakingly right. It is impossible not to become invested in them. Whilst this is going on, they are also cracking obscene jokes and using appalling yet casual violence, the kind that would get you banned from TV long before you got anywhere near the censors.  Surrounding these actions and opinions will be lives that can have tender moments, horrible sadness and wonderful highs, all of which again endear and connect them to you.

Throughout all of it, Warren will bring the funny; visually, through story and situation and through the characters themselves. I think someone may have said in their introduction to one of his graphic novels that secretly everyone would like to be a Warren Ellis character. They were right. And if they didn’t say it, then I just did.

 

The thing about Neil Gaiman

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Let’s take Neil Gaiman. I think of him like chocolate. You could blindfold me and give me 10 different types of chocolate and I could recognise the Cadburys every time. Once I’d taken the blindfold off, I think I could pick his writing out pretty damn consistently. Why? Well, therein lies the magic, the illusive mystery of great writers.

For me, it is the atmosphere of Neil’s books that always stands out. His writing has an almost wistful air, but is still striking. With very few words he conjures a sense of knowing that I think comes from his deep appreciation for every writer who has come before him. Without ever short-changing, he expects the reader to know ‘the rules’ and share at least some of his love of story telling. This allows him to almost borrow a sense of long ago, of stories past in which to tell his own tales. It is this atmosphere that makes his writing so magical to read.

I’m not sure that I’ve done justice to what he does and I’m also concerned that I’ve suggested that he doesn’t do his own work. That is in no way accurate. It’s just that you can taste and smell his books.  The flavours and scents, whilst being highly original, always have a faint, comforting air of familiarity about them. And just to be clear, this is a good thing.