I guess it's been a while since I updated this here website. It's been a busy summer! In the past month or so, I've been immersed in schoolwork, at a conference for work, reunited with my boyfriend, and trying to live like a healthier human being. There is truly not much news to report. I will talk about miscellaneous things now in no special order.
I'm still watching So You Think You Can Dance. I watched most of season one of Mad Men in one sitting while waiting to pick B. up at the airport, and holy wow. It's so good. It's slooooooow and deliberate and just a fine program. I can see myself becoming obsessed with it; I sort of already am. I saw Mamma Mia! and liked it but did not love it. It was so over the top and cheesetastic, but I loved most of the singing and dancing numbers, Amanda Seyfried was luminous, Meryl Streep can do anything, and the dads were all quite good even though Pierce Brosnan has the worst singing voice every committed to screen. I even liked Sophie's boyfriend even though I loathed him as Willoughby in a recent Masterpiece Theater Sense and Sensibility. It was a sweet, fun summer movie but certainly not a great movie musical.
The Avett Brothers' new album, Gleam II, is out, and it is wonderful.
I am officially addicted to Turbo Jam: Punch, Kick, and Jam. I first learned about it from Linda and figured I'd give it a try because I was feeling so adrift when it came to my health. I was lost at first but now could do it in my sleep. Not that it's easy to do; it's just easy to follow once you know the moves, and I like that each move can be taken to more difficult levels the more you know what you're doing. I've also started trying Hip Hop Abs, but I fear it is way too dance-y for me (no rhythm), and it also makes my stomach hurt so badly that it makes me think I am going to throw up in a projectile manner mid-"Tilt, Tuck, and Tighten." I went to yoga with my dad recently, and I love yoga in theory, but I wonder what is wrong with my wrists that causes any pose that involves my lifting my body on them to make me feel like they are going to splinter into pieces. I am up to running two miles again but haven't tried to push past that point yet. Anyway, fitness. I've spent a lot of my summer trying to get back into the exercise routine, and while there have been no dramatic changes body-wise, it feels good to be doing something good for myself.
When I haven't been making time for exercise, I've been doing homework for my class. It's consumed much of my summer. I read sixty graphic novels and did a whole lot of work related to them and to graphic novel collections in general (annotating and reviewing the books, evaluating a collection, coming up with a collection development policy, coming up with a library program for them, writing a research paper, etc.). It's been exhausting and ridiculous. I need to sit down and make a top ten list of the best books I read this summer. I'm doing my research paper on Alison Bechdel based on my undying love for Fun Home, and I can't wait to get it turned in and put this class behind me. I'm glad I took it because of some of the excellent books it brought into my life but -- hate to be a negative nellie here -- overall, it was kind of a drag.
My four favorites I actually read before class started so I'm not including them in the list (The Complete Maus by Art Spiegelman, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth by Chris Ware, and Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi). Here's the top ten in no particular order along with excerpts/snippets of the reviews I had to write for class this summer.
(1) The Tale of One Bad Rat by Bryan Talbot. This the tale of one young woman's quest to survive the wounds of being abused by her father as a child. Helen is both terrified and brave, both scarred and healing, and both enslaved by her past and striving to break free. The plot follows her from her days as a homeless young girl in a cold London winter after running away from home to her odyssey through England's Lake District, the home of her hero, Beatrix Potter, as she finds a new family and ultimately confronts and disentangles herself from her abusive father. The color illustrations are simply beautiful – they capture Helen's transformation wonderfully and depict the outside world with highly detailed attention, from the streets, buildings, and bridges of London to the spectacular countryside of the Lake District (which I visited four summers ago and still miss in my heart). The purpose of the book is to portray, through the life of one girl, the idea that abuse is survivable, that a person can overcome his or her darkest and deepest pain, and that people are stronger than they think they are. It is very effectively achieved, particularly in a scene in which Helen stands alone atop a hill overlooking Lake Derwentwater, crying and shaking her fists at the sky, proclaiming that her abuse was not her fault, and also in the scene in which she fearlessly stands up to her father.
(2) Sandman: Preludes & Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman. I did NOT understand this book at first and wanted to stab it with a knife or throw it into a fire. Then I started to understand what was going on and really dug it! The plot follows Dream as he escapes from his longtime prison cell and embarks on a quest to find the items that give him his power – his pouch, his helmet, and his ruby. Though initially hard to follow, the storyline clicks into place once Dream gets going on the different legs of his journey. Much of the artwork is grotesque and terrifying, and it does a good job of showing Dream's power as well as his humanity (as it were). The book has important things to say about fundamental ideas about life and death, like when Dream asks a demon who taunts him that dreams have no power in hell, "What power would hell have if those imprisoned here were not able to dream of heaven?" The idea that heaven and hell, dreams and nightmares, and life and death are inextricably intertwined is the predominant one in this novel.
(3) The Walking Dead: Volume One by Robert Kirkman. The plot follows Rick, a police officer, as he awakens from a coma to find the world around him irrevocably changed … it's human vs. zombie now, and he must find a way to survive against all odds. The realistic writing style aptly captures the excitement, the fear, the suspense, and the heartache. The excellent black and white pen and ink illustrations convey the terror and emotion of the story with intimate, intricate detail. This book reminds me of Carmac McCarthy's The Road in the way it portrays the desperation and desolation of man vs. the near-apocalypse. It could be used as an accompaniment to The Road in that they both focus on surviving with loved ones in a forever changed and terrifying world. This book is a unique and devastatingly moving twist on the traditional zombie genre with its focus on love, family, emotions, and the ties that bind – particularly touching is the scene when the characters sit around the campfire in the snow sharing what they used to do in their "past lives."
(4) The Rabbi's Cat by Joann Sfar. The cat as narrator is snarky, inquisitive, and wise, and his master, the rabbi, is insecure but likeable and grounded in his faith. The plot follows the cat through a temporary spell when he's able to speak after swallowing the family bird and as he accompanies his master through his daughter's marriage and to Paris, where they visit the new in-laws. The purpose of the book seems to be a spiritual exploration – what is a Jew, really, and what is a non-Jew? What traits do they share? How are they different? It's about coming to terms with one's faith or lack thereof or finding peace with some combination of faith and non-faith. It's also about coming to understand one's place in his or her family and in the world (human or feline). A beautiful and thought-provoking book.
(5) Heavy Liquid by Paul Pope. This is a futuristic look at crime and romance through the eyes of S., a former lawman who's turned to the dark side. S. is a dashing cross between Mick Jagger and Benicio del Toro who's a slave to heavy liquid, a chrome-like substance that melts into a dark milk that he pours into his ear for a high. The plot takes him on a lonely journey in the mid-22nd century as he embarks on a search for a lost love in order to fulfill an assignment for a powerful art dealer. This is a compelling and unusual story with haunting illustrations.
(6) Serenity: Those Left Behind by Joss Whedon & Brett Matthews. The diverse characters of this book are the motley crew aboard the Serenity – two soldiers, a pilot, a doctor, a mechanic, a preacher, a courtesan, and a possibly insane young woman – for their own reasons, all boiling down to a shared mission – to rob and steal in order to survive. The writing style is true to the origins of this mythology – the characters speak in a strange, convoluted syntax with a Western flavor that suits the singular atmosphere of this world perfectly. It's Whedon at his best, writing with a cinematic rhythm where all the beats, comedic and dramatic, hit in all the right places. The illustrations are dazzlingly beautiful, from the exploding light of Serenity's flight through space to the fraught emotions lined in the character's faces. The art does an amazing job of bringing this world previously created onscreen to life on the page, and seeing these iconic characters rendered so carefully and lovingly will thrill preexisting fans. The purpose of the book is to continue the story of this ragtag fleet for both fans of the TV show/movie (known as Browncoats) and to begin the story for comics fans previously unfamiliar with it – while familiarity deepens the reading experience, it's not necessary – it's funny, dramatic, complex, and exciting. Its intended audience is young adults, who will enjoy the adventure, the romantic undertones between several characters, the fights, and the whole space cowboy ideology. The many adult Browncoats will also adore this book.
(7) Paul Has a Summer Job by Paul Rabagliati. Paul, like Thoreau and countless others before him, chooses to lose the trappings of real life and go to the woods in order to find himself. He drops out of school and starts and quits a mindless job he hates before deciding on a whim to spend the summer in the woods as a camp counselor, where he evolves, to his initial surprise, into the Paul he really is deep down and the Paul he wants to be. The black and white pen and ink illustrations wonderfully capture the natural setting of the woods – the trees, the hills, the lake, the wildlife – and the personalities of Paul, his fellow counselors, and the young campers. The book's purpose is to take a look back at a defining moment in the history of Paul's life and how his summer as a camp counselor indelibly changed him, and it is achieved very effectively with heartfelt nostalgia and affection towards his old friends and experiences at camp. Readers who have spent a summer at camp, whether as a camper or counselor, will recognize themselves in these characters – the sacred, special, hilarious times at camp and the bonds formed between those who were there become frozen in one's memory and heart, and this book captures that sentiment beautifully. (Paul, sitting around a campfire, singing under the stars: "There you are, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people you like, and suddenly, you lift off. Without noticing it, you're in a bubble. You become one with the world around you, and everything else just fades away.")
(8) One! Hundred! Demons! by Lynda Barry. THIS IS A WONDERFUL BOOK. This is the sort of book that makes a person want to sing from the mountaintops about the glories of autobiography and the lessons learned from one's own childhood and life. The plot is an episodic series of anecdotes about Barry from early childhood to adulthood. The purpose is to take a walk down memory lane by recreating Barry's experiences in a way that everyone can relate to on some level – we have had pain in our childhoods, we have felt out of place, we have loved and lost people and pets and beloved childhood blankets and stuffed animals, we have taken drugs and kissed people we shouldn't have, we have tried to create art that means something to us, and we have been insanely glued to the TV during the 2000 chad-related presidential election drama. All of us have done these things in whole or in part, and Barry has an amazing gift for tapping into the experiences that make us all human both collectively and individually. (As a chronic shame spiraler, this book was such a great read for me. It's a book all about shame spiraling and rising above. It is just awesome.)
(9) Kings in Disguise by James Vance. A young boy named Freddie struggles to survive the Great Depression and travels by railcar to Detroit in search of his father. A beautiful slice of America during one of its darkest times; showcases the inherent dignity of the human spirit -- even the poorest can be kings at heart. Sounds cheesy; is not.
(10) Runaways: Volume One by Brian K. Vaughan. This is a story about teen superheroes. The plot follows the members of the group, who are initially only friends because their parents are, as they discover their parents' nefarious ways and instantly band together in a newfound brotherhood/sisterhood … there are hints of romance as well as deception, as one of the teens might still be on the parents' side. The writing style is very modern and hip and peppered with allusions to real-life pop culture references – "You okay? You're acting all Keanu," "Okay, this is starting to get a little Eyes Wide Shut," "Wow, it's like a whole season of Antiques Roadshow in here," "Get out! That is so C.S.I.," and "You've been watching too many WB shows, bro," are just a few examples of these references that make the reader feel like these characters and their adventures really exist in the same world that the reader inhabits. The illustrations are true-to-life and do a wonderful job of conveying the wardrobes, hairstyles, accessories, etc. of the characters. The writing makes these teens sound like real teens; the art makes them look like real teens.
I guess I should say a little more about my all-time favorites.
Jimmy Corrigan. For the inexperienced graphic novel reader, starting this book is like leaping off the high diving board before learning to swim. The plot moves through time without clear transitions; generations and histories fold in and out of each other, and the reader must go with the flow rather than fight the current so that initial confusion dissipates, scales are shaken from the reader's eyes, and all becomes clear. The book's purpose is to explore wounds that fathers inflict on sons and the resulting scars carried for a lifetime and down into the next generation -- it's not only about fathers and sons, though – it is about loneliness and abandonment, the death of the spirit, and the salvation found in the tiniest moment's kindness.
Maus. The plot of this book weaves in and out of time as Vladek shares with his son Art his story of life before, during, and after the Holocaust. People are drawn as anthropomorphized animals (Jews as mice, Germans as cats, and Poles as pigs) who behave like human beings at their best and worst. Spiegelman set out to tell a Holocaust story but was also dealing with his heritage and working through the horrors and heroism of his parents' experience. Calling Maus "effective" is the understatement of the century. It is a book that cries out to be shared because of the lessons it teaches and the unique way it both breaks and uplifts the reader's heart. Its unforgettable power and singular place in both literary history and world history make it an essential read for all of humanity, if you're asking me.
Persepolis. I feel like most people are familiar with this book so I'm not going to say anything about it. It's really good, and you should read it. The End.
Fun Home. The plot primarily traces Bechdel's relationship with her father and how who he was shaped her into being who she is (and is not). It's sardonically funny and poetic, packing hard punches and eliciting gasps, sighs, chills, laughter, and tears from the reader – "Dad and I watched the sunset. It was beautiful. My father once came to blows with a female dinner guest about whether a particularly patch of embroidery was fuchsia or magenta. But the infinite gradations of color in a fine sunset – from salmon to canary to midnight blue – left him speechless." The art is black, white, and pale greenish gray, a color scheme that seems appropriate for the evoking of memory, and it incorporates realistic depictions of characters with pieces of memory, such as photographs and childhood diary entries. The book's purpose is to present Bechdel's upbringing through the lens of how she saw herself and her father in her childhood and perhaps for her to come to grips with his life and death. I've read three graphic novels so far in my lifetime that I consider masterpieces. Maus stands alone at the top of that list, but this (and Jimmy Corrigan) come closely behind it. This is not simply a great graphic work – it is a great work, period. It is a staggering achievement, and I will never forget it. Without question, it is an essential purchase for every public library on planet earth.
And ... I guess that's it for now.
