Persepolis

It turns out that my roommate actually had a copy of Marjane Satrapi's complete Persepolis. So I was able to actually read it as a hardcopy, which was nice.

This story is autobiographical, told from the perspective of the artist and author herself. It begins in her childhood, in Iran, during the Islamic Revolution. Marjane was lively and stubborn, growing up at a time when her world was changing drastically in a matter of a few years. At first, the veil is introduced, and those who wear it tended to be safe from attacks by the fundamentalists. At this time however, revolution against the imperial government waged during the first few chapters until the government is subdued and another civil war is beginning to break down between the fundamentalists and the modernists. The world around Marjane is slowly being taken over by the Islamic religion, but she grows more rebellious with age. She looked up to her uncle as a hero for having endured through prison, but after his death she becomes far more aware of Iran's political situation. It helps that her parents were also part of the revolution, which always piqued her interests. Throughout her life she has been through sirens, screams, and death among her friends and family. She either forgot or gave up being a prophet when she grew older, and she still had her fascination with western culture. She got kicked out of many schools for her outbursts against the religious methods and teachings, since they always had a problem with who she was and what she believed in.

Eventually her parents found her a school in Austria, where she was to be sent alone.

I only read the first half so far, but since I have it around, I can actually keep reading it when I have the time. It's an interesting story, even if sometimes I feel there's a little too much exposition. The art style is very interesting. Instead of going for half-tone shading, or using any midtones for that matter, it is all in flat black and white. Still, it is easy to see the figures among the simple shapes, and even in veils it isn't too hard to tell who is who. The style is unique, but then again I must have said that for the last several comics and graphic novels I have read. I do mean it, however. It has me reconsidering just how uniform comics truly are. It makes sense when I know that up to now, I never really read any comics outside of generic superhero American comics and Manga. I did read JTHM (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac), but I didn't think styles of many different kinds ever made it to publication. Goes to show how much I knew.

Anyways, the story so far is pretty interesting. Marjane is a very engaging character to read, and the situation she grew up in is nothing like what I've ever endured, so it was humbling to experience it through her eyes. I did respect the fact that even though it was a very bloody time, there was no gore throughout any of the first book where the war was taking the most place. There was a lot of implied death, and even some violence, but either it was the style or the way it was never drawn on to the page that I don't even feel like I saw it. I appreciated that. Not only did it make the read a little more tasteful and less of a gore-fest, but it is actually stronger to imply death than to show it. The way Marjane writes is easy and fun to read--she'll tell you in the square box above if what somebody said was true, or if those were their exact words, and doing so really pulls her narrative voice along. It was also very interesting to read about a different place and a different culture, especially when people like Fidel Castro are being looked to as idols in Iran at the time. If I brought this book back home with me to Miami, I know about half my family won't understand why anyone would do that. They probably wouldn't understand Marjane's situation, or the fact that on the other side of the world, the information doesn't quite get there the same, or that what might seem to be great for some is a sin to others. But that's why I find it important to read about people from cultures you've heard little about. It's beneficial to understand why people see things the way they do, and to understand that perspective even if you don't agree with it.

I plan to read the second half as soon as I can. I want to try and catch up to the class this week.

Osamu Tezuka's Ranma 1/2

I decided to read Ranma 1/2 because for one, I was acquainted with the plot but I never had a chance to read it before and I was in the mood for something funny.

In the first volume, we are introduced to Ranma and Genma. Ranma has been arranged to marry Akane in order for the Tendo family's legacy to be secured. Genma, who is Ranma's teacher and father, turns into a panda when doused with cold water whereas Ranma will turn into a girl. Hot water will return them to their original forms. With all this set up for our amusement, the rest of the story seems to follow how it is that Ranma deals with his fiance whilst having the such a curse upon him. It seems to have a plot, which revolves around Ranma's and Genma's relationship, but the manga is pure entertainment. It's like reading candy. It's probably not all too good to take in abundance, but it's tempting to read. I've only read the one volume so far, but I intend to read whatever else is on the course resources page under the same title. It's pretty funny.

What I've noticed about Tezuka's art is that his style does not look like the generic style used in a lot of today's anime. It was more of a cartoonist quality; something they have adapted in the depiction of 'chibified' characters. But it allows for very memorable expressions on a constant basis. I love how Japanese manga artists depict certain reactions. They all seem tailored to specific events too, rather than using the same surprise face over and over for example. There's a real wide range of them.

And like a lot of the manga I've read before, humor is a big part of it. I can't quite define Japanese humor, but it's not hard to get. Even from a culture on the opposite side of the planet, I can laugh at their jokes. Some people can't even laugh at British jokes. It's not quite the Looney Tunes slapstick humor, but I guess if I had to sum it up...it's very situational. It often involves awkward situations and over-the-top reactions. You can bet that at least once, even in the most serious manga {aside from Berserk; it's just too intense}, that the main character will have a hilarious and embarrassing episode or challenge to deal with.

Manga is something I've been reading since high school. I'm not into it anymore, since I mostly read whatever my friends brought because I couldn't afford buying any, but I did like some of the ones I read before. I'm sure my list would be greater if I didn't read too much Shojo, because that was all my friends brought with them and I wasn't fond of romance stories. Boys over Flowers was alright, and there was one about a girl that had to disguise herself as a boy in order to attend a very prestigious school that only boys could be accepted into. I think it was Hana Oridango? I'm probably butchering the spelling...it /sounds/ like the title. The Naruto series was okay for a while, but I got bored of waiting for updates to a manga I never thought would end. I've read a lot of Yaoi, and it was funny to see that pretty much every one of them had ghost penises. If you've read some, you'll know what I'm talking about. It should be there, but it isn't. It's like when you're first given a nude male to draw and you're trying hard not to look at his crotch so you never get around to drawing his johnson. Anyways, yeah, and it wasn't on my own accord either. I can honestly say I read it out of boredom, because the person who introduced me to yaoi was a huge fan of it and half the manga she brought for us to read happened to be of that genre.

I tried to read some FMA, but I couldn't tell what was supposed to be the main story and what was supposed to be the spin-off or fan story. I settled for the anime and got the whole thing down in a nutshell. I've seen a ton of anime, the most recent being Code Geass, which was decent despite all the holes in the story {not the plot, or it'd be unbearable, but there are a few things they never bother explaining}.

I'll probably read more Ranma 1/2 tonight since I found it to be quite entertaining.

The Jew of New York

This was a very strange novel, which didn't focus on any one character too long as if it had an attention deficit disorder and yet all the while these characters either pass one another or briefly interact at the very least. It reminds me of pulp fiction, though I'm sure there are a lot of historical elements in the story that took place in the early/mid 1800s. It was hard for me to remember individuals, though it helped that some didn't change or that the first few pages of the book had them pictured and named for you to refer back to them with some degree of familiarity. But even if a character isn't listed there, there are some in the story that still stick in mind, like Mayor Noah or Miss Patella. But you don't really meet these folks. Their mere existences lend some sort of important plot devices to the narrative.

And I'm not sure whether it's really linear or not. There's a lot going on at once, a lot of humorous undertones that I know are /supposed/ to be funny but never make me outwardly smirk, and there are a lot of characters that take the spotlight from one another to a point where you know the narrative doesn't follow one man, but many. It's a collective experience, as I'd like to call it. And some of the stories they have to tell are quite bazar. The art style is certainly something new to me. It's gritty, gestural, and very sketchy. It almost looks more like these are preliminary layouts made just before the real illustrations are done. Even though I was a little disappointed in this, always appreciating polished artwork over something less perfect, I feel like the style really fits the novel. This isn't a pretty and polished story. This is a series of strange or fantastical events, still within the scope of what can or might happen rather than being of pure fantasy. These hazy illustrations are befitting of the nostalgic quality of this story of several stories.

Maus

I'm working on this one still. It's been a very hectic week. Will update when done. I know I'm about a full week behind in entries, but I've been trying to find the materials I need left and right. Hopefully I'll have Maus all read up later tonight.

So far I've read well into the first half. It's an engaging story, with the humanity that Spiegelman sought to include in contrast to the inhumanities inflicted later in the book. The drawing style is unique and bold, which is best to capture both the caricature of each sort of character and the drama of any given situation. It was intriguing that the artist depicts different races, nationalities, or religious groups, though so far I've only seen Jewish mice, Nazi cats, and Polish pigs. At first I was confused by the message this must have been sending, because the story itself is about anti-Semitism and I thought that further distinguishing the differences between people by making them several different species of animals might have sent mixed messages. But I did notice that among the animals, they looked alike to those of the same 'species'. The only way I could really tell who was who happened to be by what they were wearing. I guess that might mean that even though we're all different, we're still alike to some extent, but I decided not to get too caught up in that. It wasn't the most important message behind the interview.

It is all done in the form of an interview, or rather several interviews that take place at different times. The book is actually an autobiography composed of the author's interviews with his father, and a story about his father's struggles before and during World War II. The way the story reads constantly reminds you that past events are being re-told through the father, either with comments in the square boxes describing the situation or interruptions during the interview that send the reader back to reality for a moment to deal with the human being that had to go through such traumas. The father, named Vladek, shows off his quirks in these short intermissions, and Art deals with them accordingly. I didn't find these sequences to be insignificant at all, because it serves as a reminder that these are people like us. It makes Vladek's story all the more intense because you can imagine these things happening to a real person and not just a mouse. But having all the characters look like animals instead of people does evoke the question of symbolism, and why the Jews were depicted as mice and the Nazi's as cats. I mean, we can all assume it has to do with how cats and mice don't generally get along in the animal kingdom, but then where do the Poles fit in as pigs? But it's clear that the subject of prejudice isn't exclusive to the Nazis. Even Vladek was a little racist himself.

You can still feel sympathetic however because of how they act, just as we're able to watch movies where toys or robots are the main characters and do the same. As long as we're reminded of their human quality, we can relate to them. Just like McCloud mentioned in his book Understanding Comics, once we put a face to something, we can relate to it no matter how far removed from being human it truly is. And knowing that this is a true story, or rather an interview with a real man re-telling the events of his past, makes the experience even stronger. I'm not saying that stories about something fictional can't be as intense; some of them are just intense enough that people who don't know it's fictional might think it actually happened. Other times, it's intense enough to immerse you into into an obviously fictional world where you are able to suspend your disbelief long enough to be a part of it. But when it comes to an autobiography, there's a very genuine quality to it that fiction lacks. Even so, we need to take into account that this is a story being told about a story, even if the recollection is as real as you or me to Vladek. People tend to remember things a little differently from how they happened. I'm not trying to question the truth of this content. I'm just trying to say that whether it's true to the letter or not doesn't have to dictate how powerful a story is. This story is powerful however. It has just the right amount of every emotion to provide an excellent experience for the reader.

Crumb and the Underground

I read some of the Mr. Natural comics, and they were actually pretty funny. It has the sort of humor that can be in newspapers about...half the time. Then on the other-hand, you have crudely draw demon woman who shows off her panties a little too much or the not-so-subtle sexual innuendoes. Then there's the language, but if you're as well acquainted with censorship as I am, you know it's just as easy to change the language around. What I feel the question here is, if this strip/book was converted into something more 'general audience' oriented, would it still have the same spirit? Certainly not. Also, Crumb might have wanted to make a comic at the time that wasn't restricted to being family friendly. Maybe he was tired of that crap and he wanted to make something that reflected more of him with little personal censorship. At the time, he managed to get away with it because of the underground comic movement. I looked over the Heroes of Blues, which was a very nice change of color both literally and figuratively. It was actually pleasant to see these pictures while reading non-biased info about these prominent figures; all of which might have been ridiculed through style or through how they might act in comics and graphic narratives back in the day. I was curious about why these were on the resource page under 'Underground Comix'. I know these illustrations were done by Crumb, but these are kind of like collectable cards. There's no real story that connects all the people on the individual cards, aside from sharing the same love and appreciation for Blues.

I read Girl Fight Comics...

It was pretty awesome. I can tell this is a comic for guys to spend some alone time with. And some girls. *shrug* I don't discriminate.

But it was still fun to read. The women here are conveyed with power, but it just seems to be lent to them for the sole purpose of being incredibly attractive to men. These women are badass. Though they've only killed colored men in this comic from what I've seen, they're always doing hardcore things while slipping in some gratuitous sexy moment in every short story. In the first one, for instance, Fox becomes the sexy wild woman of the jungle, but not before kicking ass and having sex with another woman. In SHE, the Amazon warriors that are being sought are all women, and of course they have this attraction to men and their habits and doing things that'll please a guy. Lots of boob-shots. The one before the last one was both strange and amusing. Space women traveling via giant penis end up on a planet where they've broken the law by exhibiting 'penis envy'. Yeeaaah.

On the other end of the spectrum, I read Gay Comix.

Which was actually very serious about its own content. I had a feeling it would be if the page that introduced the comic's themes actually admit that the staff that wrote these was gay as well. At first I thought it was a joke or something, but when I actually started reading the stories I was pleased to see that the subject was being taken seriously. I'm glad these were able to get around at all. It's a way of letting other people know, people who might have questions about their own sexuality, how people who are homosexual might live their lives. And there's an assortment of scenarios in this comic. Not all of them are there, but some. Ones that can matter just as much. And it does get funny, but never in a way that insults itself. I just found them to be really interesting. It was in complete contrast to the Girl Fight Comics.

'Contract with God' and 'Blankets'

The 'Contract with God novel was pretty dark. I read the first few pages of Will Eisner's other graphic novels and they all seem to share that in common. They almost feel like cautionary tales; you know. If you do something stupid/rash/naive you're bound to take it in the ass butt {/literally in some cases}. I had to make sure this guy wasn't an anti-semitic because he sure likes to use Jewish characters. I learned through the great Wikipedia that he was a son of Jewish immigrants and alive during the time Contract with God takes place. So these stories can very well be true events, though we will never know for sure and would have to go by Eisner's promise alone. These stories all seem to share the same dark undertone and they always end on a sour or sombre note. It's as if in the end sin and debauchery ends up prevailing, religion is treated like an accessory, and those with kind and frail hearts are never safe from the cruel and unforgiving world. It felt a lot like this novel was made by a man who has struggled with his own faith at the time.

The style was decent; I didn't have any issues with it. It didn't seem as if Eisner was constantly pulling off the stereotypical Jew for every single character he drew up, though sometimes that did come into question. The stories were interesting and quite intense. If they happened, it's an awful shame, but if they didn't exactly happen the way they were told, then perhaps there was more to the story than meets the eye. But I can feel this struggle from the author himself. In a way, he's trying to shed light on the fact that bad things can and do happen to good people, no matter what they might have faith in. Whether or not that is fueled by his own religious doubts or by his own beliefs in the way things truly are is up to the readers. He could very well be an atheist; I don't know. I didn't read into the Wiki on him too much--just enough to see where he came from and when. I'd rather try and focus on the comic rather than the man behind it at the moment, because in the end the message comes from the story, not the man. And the messages I got were pretty clear enough. The world back then, maybe even now, is a harsh and unfair world. Both the wealthy and the poor suffer through similar indignities and troubles, or at least to those equivalent.

I'll have to admit that I read Blankets a couple of times before this year, so I just sort of skimmed through it this time around as a refresher. It's autobiographical, centered around Craig, the author and artist. I was drawn to his art style originally, which was why I picked up the story before it was an assignment. One part I found unforgettable was the pee fight Craig has with his brother one night--it's the kind of thing you don't just make up unless it really happened to you, and that's why I found it both funny and worthy of being included in Craig's flashbacks. The story itself doesn't have much of a plot, but then again, that's just real life for you. Yet it doesn't get boring. One after another, something is going on that keeps you from losing interest even though you're basically following someone through their life. Of course, it's not every little detail, or else the book would be several volumes long. But we get the meat and potatoes of it all, focusing on the themes of religion, abuse, and love. I like the contrast between the current and the past, as well as the drawings/imagination sequences and reality.

Plastic Man!

Oh wow. So I guess this was the prototypical Mr. Fantastic. Plastic Man, an ex-gangster/criminal was drenched in some strange acid that gave him superpowers and he was saved by an order of monks and ends up working for the police department.

I really, really hate super-powered superhero comics with those sorts of origins. I really do. Having been raised on a ton of sci-fi genre materials, every strange/new advancement has some sort of ground--some sort of explanation or origin that would make its capabilities easier to believe. I CAN'T believe that chemicals dropping on some dude will give them superpowers if they can't tell you where they came from. In the real world, if some strong acid drops on you, you'll burn. You'll burn right up. If it isn't strong, good for you; it'll roll off of you like water off a ducks back and maybe cause some irritation later--no biggie. The skin organ is most valuable for its ability to protect the other organs and whatnot from contaminants.

But even putting THAT aside, if I don't know the origins of the character or what he was like before he got his powers or how he changed so dramatically and what the hell monks were doing there when he 'dropped acid' and what his 'unhappy childhood' consisted of, I just don't care. So I tried to suspend my disbelief long enough to understand the world of this comic and the story that runs along with it.

The ones that truly stuck out to me probably stuck out to just about everyone else. The first story, with a child named 'Bright Eyes', was so chock full of child abuse that I had to laugh at the absurdity of it. I don't even think back when this comic was made in the forties that adults would do this sort of thing to a kid. First we see what looks like an infant getting his head dunked in a punch bowl by some guy who can't be younger than his mid-twenties with some sort of huge grudge against him. GET OVER YOURSELF MAN. But this kid isn't two, as his height and proportions suggested. He's probably 6-10 or something. And he has hypnotic blue eyes. Words cannot describe the cheese encrusted in this comic. All it needs are those crappy heroic dialogue one-liners that old Batman was famous for. Oh wait. It has those too. Well, the same kid gets smacked around, threatened with getting his arm broken, and ends up nearly drowning in the sea trying to lead the heroes to the other children. The other children are being sold and kept in self-flooding cages that activate whenever a prospective buyer is about to leave without purchasing a child {or when Sphinx doesn't get heard from in a while}. Then we later learn that Sphinx is Bright Eyes's dad. This strip has shock value written all over it. This strip practically thrives on its attempts to create the most drastic, wretched crime for our hero to solve. But I was far more interested in the absurdity of it all than the hero himself. Plastic Man was still just...fairly generic to me.

The next story I ought to mention is the one with the Super So-an-So. That one just felt like a giant joke, which isn't a bad thing really. I found it more interesting than anything else I read. The hero reminded me of Dopey from the old Loony Tunes cartoons, or that burger guy from Popeye. He's like a stereotypical superhero without the stereotypical personality. He's so vague about his abilities that it's like Cole is making fun of the genre. Even the crime he stopped was a big joke. The killer was trying to take his own mother's life and his mother supports him so much that she even tries to help him kill her in peace. In a house, in a room, in a safe. And it was most humorous.

Finally, there's Wun Cloo, which I tried to read and...well. I read it. I'm sure even a child would be able to make out the racial insensitivity here, but I tried not to let it get to my head. This was the forties. But while reading it I wondered if this was a joke too. The criminal couldn't even be taken seriously. So I put aside my qualms against the whole racism gag and read it as if everyone were of the same origins. It was suddenly an all too typical comic strip again. Wun Cloo was like a toon to me, as everyone/thing else was to me. But that doesn't change the fact that there are a lot of racial stereotypes evoked by these strips. I didn't let it get to me. Like I've said before, it was a different time.