Re-Reading Comics

Turns out that there are a lot more characters than just those two. Our lead, Keith Kanga is first introduced with one ensemble, but by then end of the first issue he is with another. We are left to wonder if/when he will be reunited with anyone from the first.

Keith is throwing himself into a new life after being very unhappy and depressed in his previous. And the new life is in a planet with a mish/mash of knock offs from various 1980s children’s cartoons. I recognize He Man and The Smurfs without being sure if I ever watched an episode of either of those shows. These versions of these characters feel like it could have started as fan fiction, then wisely pivoted. While rereading the first volume I often found myself wondering what are they trying to say with it. But if what they were saying could be simply said, it would not be a multi issue comic book.

(The Smurf types in this are called Glomp and they are there to parody Gamergaters/incels. I barely remember The Smurfs, but as someone who was bothered by the gender ratio of the characters, I’m glad to see it taken to this illogical conclusion.)

The first volume meanders along in an unhurried way, even as we are told of potentially catastrophic things going on. The second, despite being made to wrap things up, doesn’t have a change in pace, which is great as I like the meandering. And it does manage to wrap up in fun and surprising ways.

If I had read these before the allegations became public, I would have said they were good if not great. Nightmare Country has an interesting set up with the Corinthian investigating the crimes of someone who seems like a grotesque knock off himself. It mostly from the point of view of an undergraduate artist named Flynn, who haunted by the not-Corinthian nightmare. The art, by Lisandro Estherren with colors by Patricio Delpeche, feels both modern and like it could fit with the original series. While it wasn’t a particularly clear plot, I would follow it to the next volume if I wasn’t feeling like I should purge my collection of all Gaiman related books. Writer James Tynion’s starts the collection with enthusiastic letter about how supportive Gaiman was of the series, and how much that meant to Tynion. Thinking of how kind Gaiman could be to someone he considered a peer or protege, while abusing women in less equitable relationships made me sad.

Chivalry is a light little story about an old lady who finds the Holy Grail in a seance hand goods store. This leads Sir Galahad of the Round table to her and It was apparently written back in the 1980s though published more recently. Doran’s concept involved having all the pages look like they were from an illuminated manuscript. She ultimately couldn’t do that for the entire story, and that is for the best. As artistic conceits go, I like it better in theory than practice.

So should I have seen the allegations (which I believe) against Gaiman coming? Truthfully, I was waiting for some kind of downfall for him, ever since ever since the fiasco behind the scenes of American Gods season 2. I did not watch it, so I did not pay close attention to the story or its fallout. Only recently did I learn that he disparaged the reporters who reported on it afterwards . Also there was the whole weirdness of how he could be married to one of the most hated women on the internet and have it barely affect him. I knew something had to catch up to him eventually. But I didn’t think his downfall would be this.

There are things that in retrospect seem like red flags. I noticed that he had characters in two works stated that their fantasy death would involve being trampled to death while having sex with two virgins. I asked him about it at signing once. He said he just thought it was funny, and I left it at that. Now I am pretty sure he has some kind of virginity fetish given details in the New York magazine profile. Relatedly, the fact that The Ocean at the End of the Lane was a novella he impulsively wrote while his wife was unavailable, should have been a red flag. See the plot points highlighted in that article.

When I actually started reading it, I was surprised to realize that the fantasy comic book I read and gave up on it reminded me of of most was Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda’s Monstress. Aesthetically this was a surprise. Monstress’s look is inspired by an early industrial, highly colonial world design. The Last God’s look is more late Roman Empire, early medieval era. I make the comparison mostly for structural reasons. Both series have back pages that cover the history that informs the main narrative, but is outside of it. Within the main plot, lots of flashbacks. The back matter in Monstress is told by a professorial cat with multiple tails, and in The Last God the matter appears as text book excerpts and song archives and other things like that. The various tellers of these tails are unspecified. Further more thinking of the comparison to Monstress made me pay attention to the texture applied to the art. There was nothing as distinct as in the earlier title. The art and world building here reminded me more of Die, though that is a portal story and this isn’t that. And now I have to praise the art for never feeling muddy.

After reading a few issues I did something I haven’t done in a really long time. I stopped and restarted. I wasn’t getting much out of the story and not sure I could follow it. Rereading it clarified some things in the plot, and reassured me that I was retaining more than I thought. I definitely enjoyed the book more for having done this. I still can’t say it was for me, but later in the process I found myself looking at the cover again and could recognize characters and situations where I just saw tropes before.

In addition to the twelve issues of this series there is a bonus story called “Songs of Lost Children." It has a different creative team; written but Dan Watter, art by Steve Beach, Dave Stewart on colors and Tom Napolitano returning for letters. This one takes place between the two eras that the story was in. In some ways I like this more than the main story.

I am not sure how aware I was when I bought it that the book is Italian. Reading it coincided with me doing a lot of Italian related things. I restarted my Italian lessons after a couple of month’s break, I had Alessandro Manzoni’s The Betrothed as an audiobook from the library (I had been meaning to read it for about half my life). Also I got to see a screening of Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Eclisse. I never could coordinate something like that if I tried. I haven’t seen a version in Italian and even if I did, I am not experienced enough judge the translation. But I will say that I was impressed by how even the words that appear in signs, texts, etc. were mostly translated and incorporated in the art. That seems like a lot of work! Does it make it seem easier to ignore the Italian specificity? It you didn’t know what to look for you won’t see it. The prominence of American pop culture can be distracting.

Based on the songs the characters listen to and the types of cellphones they have, the story takes place in the early 2000s. Summer Fires is about two teenage sisters, Rachel and Sabrina, during a summer late in their schooling. It follows more of what Rachel’s point of view. She is more of a homebody. Sabrina goes out more, and questions about what she does is important to the tone of mystery The sisters live in an unnamed Italian town, surrounded by hills and forrest. They and their teenage friends go out there to hang out and fool around. They are experimenting sexually and with what they want in relationship. A friend of Sabrina’s is pregnant, so there is a lot of wondering about the consequence of what they are doing now. Rachel is learning to drive which is a struggle and it appears that she does not get many opportunities to practice. There are a series of fires in the hills, which makes it harder to go somewhere and be oblivious about your peers. The sisters aren’t close, but they can be insightful to each others lives.

All the teen sex and nudity brings to mind Charles Burns Black Hole, but it’s hard to explain why. There are not sexually transmitted mutations here. In my memory, they are tonally similar, but it’s been such a long time since I read Black Hole, I might have to revise that opinion on a reread. I’d be fine saying “If you liked Charles Burns’s Black Hole try Giulia Sagramola’s Summer Fires.

Sophia Glock always thought of herself as an American, but due to her parents work, rarely actually lived in the United States. The moved around a lot, and Sophia’s her siblings are taught to deflect whenever anyone asks about their parents’ careers. She doesn’t consciously think about it until reading a letter from her older sister to her parents where she admits that after someone pestered her about this she just told. This leads Sophia to articulate an unconscious belief: her parents are spies.

She never confronts them about this. It gives her the opportunity to think about their known secrets, such as her father having a child from an earlier relationship. This goes along with not being able to see if the volunteer work she did for hurricane victims had any impact and the general way that she doesn’t know what’s going on in the home lives of her school friends to give a sense of being unable to confirm what she’s learning. At the same time she us sneaking out more and asserting her independence. She eventually returns to the States for college and admits its the same kind of starting over that she’s done regularly with her family.