Carey, Mike: The Sandman Presents: The Furies

I picked up Mike Carey’s The Sandman Presents: The Furies not out of any strong desire to find out what happened to Lyta Hall after Sandman, but because I like to encourage our library system to get graphic novels and various people think highly of Carey’s other Sandman spinoff, Lucifer. (I read the first volume, liked it, and decided to wait on the rest until the trade paperbacks were all out. They are now, but I just haven’t got around to it.)

This is a very peculiar story. Lyta Hall, who went batshit crazy during Sandman, is still far from well. More Greek mythology is about to complicate her life in the form of Cronus, youngest of the Titans. And there aren’t any page numbers in the volume and I’m not about to count them, but it’s all wrapped up in a fairly slim volume.

As that might suggest, the story’s climax didn’t resonate with me emotionally. I felt Lyta’s emotional journey was given short shrift, which was compounded by my lack of interest in Cronus and, accordingly, the external plot. At any rate, a harmless enough volume, but nothing to seek out unless you’re a completist.

The art, by John Bolton, is in a style that the cover copy calls “groundbreaking” and “painterly”; to me it looks like photographs have been heavily airbrushed. I actually find it more distracting, in its not-quite realism, than more stylized work. But then, I’m apparently one of the few people on the planet who liked Marc Hempel’s art in The Kindly Ones, so take that for what it’s worth.

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Sfar, Joann: Rabbi’s Cat, The

Joann Sfar’s The Rabbi’s Cat is an absolutely charming graphic novel that I suspect has wide appeal. In 1930s Algeria, a rabbi’s cat eats a parrot and gains the power of speech (out-loud speech; he already narrates the story). To his master’s distress, he only tells lies.

He tells me that I have to be a good Jew, and that a good Jew does not lie. I answer that I am only a cat.

I add that I don’t know if I’m a Jewish cat or not.

After an argument, the cat demands to be bar-mitzvahed if he’s a Jew, and so they go to the rabbi’s rabbi to see if it’s possible. Unfortunately the cat gets in another argument, this time with the rabbi’s rabbi:

The rabbi’s rabbi tells the rabbi that he doesn’t want to see me anymore and that I should be drowned.

The rabbi tells his rabbi that he won’t drown me because he loves me and I don’t like water.

And I tell the rabbi that I am God, who has taken the appearance of a cat in order to test him.

I tell him that I am not at all satisfied with his behavior.

I tell him that he was as dogmatic and obtuse with me as some Christians are with Jews.

He gets on his knees and begs my forgiveness.

I tell him that it was a joke, that I’m only a cat, and that he can get up.

The cat’s speech is part of what’s not so much a plot as a progression, a series of events in the lives of the rabbi, the rabbi’s daughter, and the cat. The cat is changed by the acquisition of speech; the rabbi has to take a spelling test so that the French will officially approve him as rabbi; the rabbi’s cousin Malka and his tame lion come to visit; the rabbi’s daughter falls in love and gets married; they all visit Paris. It’s very loose, but it’s held together by the characters and the quiet, central theme of what it means to be Jewish—in terms of belief, conduct, and ethnicity. It’s funny and thoughtful and open-ended and a bit bittersweet, and sits smack in the intersection of literary fiction, historical fiction, and fantasy—hence my comment about the wide appeal.

The lines of the art are scratchy but expressive, and the colors and occasionally non-literal backgrounds do a very nice job of establishing the mood. The page layout is always the same, two panels across and three down, and within the panels very little is done with the placement of speech ballons; somehow this creates a feeling of pacing and rhythm, not boredom. I don’t have a scanner, but was able to find images from the original French edition; a translation of page one and page two is behind the cut. (The book is translated by Alexis Siegel and Anjali Singh. Oh, and Joann is in this case a man’s name.)

I read a hardcover copy from the library, but the paperback will be out very soon, so go take a look. This edition collects what were originally published as three volumes (La Bar-Mitsva; Le Malka des Lions; L’Exode); the author’s since published another two, so I hope there will be another U.S. collection in the near future.

Edit: I should have thought to look at the U.S. publisher’s site, which has more sample pages (“spreads”) linked on the left of the page.

Continue reading “Sfar, Joann: Rabbi’s Cat, The

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Willingham, Bill: (07.5) Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall

Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall is a prequel volume to the series, published after volume 7, Arabian Nights (and Days). An original hardcover, it contains ten stories of widely varying length, mostly about characters already met in the series. (The two exceptions are also the shortest, just three and two pages, and thus are unsatisfactory on two different levels.)

On the whole, I thought this was a solid prequel. My favorite backstories were of the Frog Prince and Frau Totenkinder, which illuminated new aspects of the characters. I felt the other stories were less revealing and thus less interesting, though I’ve no objection to reading about Snow White, Bigby, Reynard, and King Cole.

In the usual way of prequels, I think it’s more interesting if you already know the characters, though it may be easier to find in libraries and thus convenient even if you haven’t read the series.

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Willingham, Bill: (07) Fables: Arabian Nights (and Days)

Unfortunately, I was gravely disappointed in Arabian Nights (and Days), the seventh volume of Fables. Finally the non-European Fables come on the scene, and what is the story? A treacherous, power-hungry, backwards-looking vizier! So much for the reinterpretation of fables into something more complex and three-dimensional. Pah. And the faux-humorous mangled English was just insult to injury.

I did quite like the side story included at the end, “The Ballad of Rodney and June,” which is the epistolary tale of two loyal subjects of the Adversary. It had all the recognition of characters as people that I wanted and didn’t get in the main story.

I’ll see how the prequel volume 1001 Nights of Snowfall goes down, and then decide whether to wait on the library for the next volume of the comic proper (the preceding entry was written a day before this one, while I was without Internet access).

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Willingham, Bill: (06) Fables: Homelands

The next volume of Bill Willingham’s Fables, Homelands, does indeed return to nice juicy plot. Well, after a two-issue excursion into Jack Horner’s life, which I suppose is cute, but I don’t particularly like Jack, so I didn’t particularly care. (I believe this is the point where he spins off into his own series, Jack of Fables, for those who do like him).

In the title story, Boy Blue is on a quest in the Homelands, and before he’s done, he’ll have learned the secret of the Adversary’s identity—and so will have the reader.

As I said previously, I’d been spoiled about the Adversary and was doubtful that the revelation could be pulled off. However, I was satisfied with it, on the whole, and it does make sense in that fractured-fairytale way. This volume also explains why all the Fables seen so far have been of European origin, though not the relationship of Fables to fables.

Miscellaneous story notes: something dire had better happen to the magical item that features so prominently in “Homelands,” because it is vastly overpowered. I’m not quite clear on the timeline; the Jack story takes five years, but I think “Homelands” might end a couple years short of that. It’s not terribly significant, except insofar as it implies minor details about how Fabletown works in the interim, but it’s the kind of thing I tend to wonder about.

The art continues to be easy to follow and rewarding of a second look. The opening part of “Homelands” (an issue and a half, roughly) is very like, well, a fairy tale, and so uses full-page backgrounds of a single color and a minimum of panels. A historical tale is rendered in a simpler, slightly faded style. And the last two issues focus more on Fabletown’s characters and so go back to the page layout that seemed to have stabilized in the last volume: scene- or character-appropriate ornaments at the top and bottom, and narrow side panels that bleed out to the paper’s edge and show context, usually a location but sometimes a symbol.

The titles of the next volumes suggest more juicy plot to come; at present the library only has the next, and so when I’m done with that I’ll probably be making a large purchase from Amazon . . .

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Willingham, Bill: (05) Fables: The Mean Seasons

The Mean Seasons, the fifth volume of Fables, is a highly transitional volume, and therefore somewhat unsatisfactory when read by itself. I have a hunch that the subsequent storylines will be such that a temporary pause to set things up was necessary; but it doesn’t much reconcile me to having set off for an overnight trip without the next volume in hand.

The Mean Seasons collects three stories: a one-issue tale of what Cinderella really does with her time; two issues about Bigby in World War II; and four issues of the title story, which spans a year. It’s this last that’s the transitional bit; the others are fine in and of themselves. Fabletown’s Mayoral election is held, and as a result, various characters start down new paths in their lives.

To the extent that there’s a uniting thread in “The Mean Seasons,” it’s Snow and Bigby’s relationship, which is another reason for my dissatisfaction with this volume. I rather liked the two of them before this, but this story feels as though it’s just tossing up obstacles to prolong the drama, like a soap opera or a bad romance novel—by making the two of them annoying. Bleh.

I have every reason to believe that more meaty plot is just around the corner, however, so watch this space.

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Willingham, Bill: (04) Fables: March of the Wooden Soldiers

Volume four of Bill Willingham’s Fables, March of the Wooden Soldiers, ramps up the action with an invasion of our world by the Adversary’s forces. I thought it was a strong, tight volume with an exciting story and some good development of secondary characters, including Boy Blue and Pinocchio. To my surprise, I continue to be amused by Prince Charming; and I liked the riffing off the Matrix‘s Agents through the wooden soldiers of the title.

I will note that I was spoiled regarding the Adversary’s identity. (Wikipedia link immediately redirects to that identity. I should’ve known better, but I really I thought I’d get an intermediate page that would have spoiler warnings. I’ve left a note proposing that.) Despite the clues in this volume, I have a healthy amount of skepticism that the eventual revelation will work.

(When it happens, I’d like to see the revelation bring some of the complexity to the political that is present in the personal. Right now it’s very black and white, which is an odd contrast to the reimaginings of the Fables.)

This volume includes an introductory one-shot, penciled by P. Craig Russell and Craig Hamilton, about the last stand in the Homelands. Hamilton’s art is not to my taste, as it has bulging anatomy and oddly garish faces. The main story’s art is by Mark Buckingham (pencils, some inking) and Steve Leialoha (some inking), and continues to have a lot of features I like, including carefully-designed page borders and numbers.

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Willingham, Bill: (01-03) Fables: Legends In Exile; Animal Farm; Storybook Love

Fables is a comic series written by Bill Willingham and drawn by various people, mostly Mark Buckingham and Lan Medina (pencillers) and Steve Leialoha (inker). Its premise: fairy tales are real, but happened in a number of different worlds (how they got into our stories isn’t clear yet). Hundreds of years ago, those worlds were overrun by the Adversary, and the surviving Fables escaped into our world [*] and eventually set up two underground communities: for the human-appearing members, Fabletown in New York City; and for those who can’t pass, the Farm upstate.

[*] There’s a suggestion that they arrived in Europe specifically, which may be why all the characters are of European origin, but I can’t sort this out either until the relationship of Fables to fables is clarified.

Generally speaking, there are two intertwined things at work in the first three volumes. First, there’s the now-usual application of modern patterns of thought to the fairy tales themselves—Goldilocks continues to unhesitatingly break whatever rules and norms stand in the way of her desires, for instance, and Prince Charming is divorced from Snow White, Briar Rose, and Cinderella. Second, there are the tensions suggested by the premise, people having been forced into a world where their true natures must remain hidden.

Volume 1, Legends in Exile, is structured as a murder mystery, which is a handy way to introduce a bunch of characters and their tensions. In the second volume, Animal Farm, a revolution is brewing at the Farm. Most of the third volume, Storybook Love, is taken up by an arc of the same name, playing out repercussions of the first two volumes. (It also has two standalone stories, and a two-issue arc about how the Fables deal with a reporter who’s discovered their existence.) Chad felt that these volumes were too ad hoc for his tastes. I can see how he got that impression, but to me the looseness feels more fun and energetic than sloppy; and I’m interested enough by the characters to keep reading, even if an ongoing plot didn’t apparently start next volume.

I had wrongly gotten the impression that the art was really static in this series; I may have seen pages from Animal Farm, which is the volume that’s the most boxes-in-regular-rows. The first and third depart from that, with things like panels laid over full-page bleeds, or pages shaped like shields that show Prince Charming taking a more active role (I particularly like these), or a sword fight across the bottom of several pages, to show that it’s running parallel in time with events shown at the top of the pages. (Boo to Vertigo, by the way, for not preserving the even-odd arrangement of pages in the trade paperbacks. This is especially bad in part four of “Storybook Love,” as pages 163 and 164 were obviously designed to face each other; but the pages tend to be united by color themes, which also get broken up in a sometimes-disruptive fashion.) There are also nice little touches like ornamented panel borders, and the location of the page numbers in parts two-four of “Storybook Love.”

ETA: you can get the first issue in PDF format from Vertigo.

I had sufficient fun reading these that the next day I went to the library and got the next five volumes, and I fully expect to end up buying them all. I don’t expect it will have the focus of Sandman, as it’s not a fixed-length series, but if you like this kind of playing with stories, you might see if your own library has it.

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Rowling, J.K.: (03) Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (audio)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is certainly better than its predecessor and may well be the best of the lot, though I’ll leave that assessment until I finish my re-listening/re-read. Based on listening to the audiobook, I think there are a number of reasons why I liked it more. First and least objectively, there’s much less “woe is Harry.” Second and perhaps more useful, however, is that the plot fills out the structure much better. The combination of a school story structure and a mystery plot tends to leave the middle of the book very open, and here the Dementors and what they make Harry hear are a much better way of filling that space. Also, the denouement is quite lengthy, and so the various bits of mystery-solving and action don’t feel like an anti-climax. Third, the core story of this book is a lot meatier, more textured, and more interesting.

Other notes: Ron really needs to work on anger management. Hermione is not actually Supergirl, despite the movie’s changes. Plot holes (ROT-13): jul qvq gur gvzr gheare zbir gurz sebz gur ubfcvgny jvat gb gur ragenapr unyy? fubhyqa’g fancr, nf n grnpure, xabj gung urezvbar unq n gvzr gheare (rvgure bssvpvnyyl be guebhtu tbffvc)? jul jnfa’g untevq chavfurq sbe ohpxornx’f rfpncr, vs gur boivbhf rkcynangvba vf gung ur qvqa’g gvr ohpxornx cebcreyl? naq, abg ernyyl n cybg ubyr, ohg v abgvpr gung uneel jnf nobhg gb nfx untevq jul ur arire gbyq uvz nobhg oynpx naq gura jnf qvfgenpgrq ol ohpxornx’f cyvtug, orpnhfr gur nafjre jnf “gur nhgube qvqa’g jnag uvz gb xabj lrg.”

(I am definitely not listening to the next two, but will re-read them sometime in the nearish future.)

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O’Malley, Bryan Lee: Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life

I so rarely actively decide to not finish a book, that I don’t have any policy on whether that book appears on the booklog. I’m putting Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life, by Bryan Lee O’Malley, here mostly because I’ve heard a lot about it and if I ever need to decline a recommendation for it, I’ll be able to copy-and-paste my reasons from this entry.

This is a graphic novel, the first in a series. It looks like manga, being of the same physical size and in black and white, but was written in English (the author lives in Toronto, where the story is set). I have no idea whether this makes it “original English-language manga” or not. Scott Pilgrim is an unemployed 23-year-old who plays in a band and has a girlfriend in high school. I got about a third of the way into this volume, just after he becomes fascinated by a woman who is not his girlfriend, when I said the Eight Deadly Words — “I don’t care what happens to these people” — and put it down. Chad tells me it gets considerably weirder later on, but, well, I just don’t care. I don’t like Scott, I have no reason to like his high school girlfriend, and I wasn’t getting a good feeling about the fascinating non-girlfriend either—but the not liking Scott would, of course, be more than sufficient.

The art is energetic, often cluttered, makes heavy use of solid black, and very stylized in a strange sort of way; you can see five pages of the first volume at the publisher’s website, or a short standalone story at Newsarama.

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