Monitor Duty by Randy Lander "Lost and Found: Fantagraphics" So I get a fair bit of mail, both electronic and physical, these days. In the regular mail, I get the same amount of junk mail and bills as anyone else, along with a couple magazines and, since I'm a member of Netflix, every so often a DVD. As a reviewer, I get some of the coolest mail there is: free comics, comp copies for review from various companies kind enough to send me some or all of their output. In e-mail, I get the same amount of junk mail, offers of free porn and real estate, as anyone else, along with various other kinds of correspondence. As a reviewer, I also get a fair amount of commentary and questions about what I do, why I do it and how I do it. One question I get asked a lot is why I review the books that I do, and on occasion, the more specific, "Why don't you review more Fantagraphics books?" Thus this column, answering both kinds of mail. A review of a decent chunk of Fantagraphics output in mid-to-late 2001, courtesy of comp copies from Eric Reynolds. The review comes with my most heartfelt apologies, especially to Eric but also to readers who were asking for my views, for taking this long to get to it. DEATH AND CANDY #2 by Max Andersson This one went pretty much completely over my head. Andersson's work has a lot of dream reality to it, with circumstances and characters and plot developments coming out of nowhere and going off into nowhere just as fast. There's a lot of random weirdness in here, both in the art and stories, which features a girl with a tractor for a head, a man whose extended family comes over, leading to a rush to bury a body and an alternative cartoonist who goes to a foreign land for a convention and soon finds himself embroiled in crime and war. Though I respect the amount of detail and the distinctive style of the work here, it really didn't connect with me. Half the time, I couldn't figure out what was going on, and the other half, I was too weirded out to care. EVIL EYE #7 by Richard Sala Reading Evil Eye gave me the distinct impression of walking in about 2/3 of the way through a story. Sala has some intriguing elements here, including a bunch of female pirates, an intrepid reporter (maybe?), a handful of ghoulish characters and a cult who worships Bast, but I can't figure out how they all connect. The keyword for this issue is inaccessible, and while that's hardly a crime given that it's issue seven of the series, my inability to figure out what was going on or how any of it connected left me pretty unsatisfied with the book. What I did enjoy, as with most of these books, was the artwork. Sala's style is odd and angular, with some really nice use of shadows and light and some very distinctive character designs. Evil Eye clearly takes place in a strange reality, and the artwork reinforces that sense of odd in the settings, characters, clothing, props... just about everything, really. It's possible that this issue might read as the advancement of several plots to someone who had been reading the book for some time, but I get the feeling that unless you come in on issue one and keep up with the book, you're going to be quite lost when reading Evil Eye. JUNIOR #5 by Peter Bagge I'm generally a bigger fan of Bagge's comic journalism work than his stories, but Junior #5 is a whole lot of fun. Bagge's cynical but all-too-accurate take on human nature is perceptive and funny, and I love that he's willing to poke fun at social mores without painting anyone as anymore right or wrong... basically, the philosophy I get is that most of us take things way too seriously at times, and that there's always more going on below the surface of what people are saying and doing. He makes that point through some very strong storytelling. "Oedipus Junior" is such an effectively told story that I didn't even realize until my second read-through that it was completely silent, with the story told only in pictures. The "Chet and Bunny" story this issue is hilarious, because the relationships between the various characters are so mean and spiteful and yet completely believable. Bagge has an outrageous take on some fairly normal circumstances, playing up the drunken male bonding at a barbecue, or the vicious gossip among the women, or the militant feminism or sexism at the art show, and in so doing examines human nature in a brutal and funny way. And he caps the story with a hilarious punchline. The final story, an examination of disposable pop culture, is also observant and funny, and a great way to finish out the series. MEAT CAKE #11 by Dame Darcy This reads like the comic-book equivalent of an acid trip. Darcy's stories, at least in this issue, often revolve around sisters, whether it's mermaids or two sisters in love with the same man, and they tend to give off a vibe of men being playthings or cads. There's also a dreamlike feeling to the whole thing, as nonsense dialogue and sudden shifts in tone and story are the norm. Darcy's artwork is full of insane amounts of detail, with images overlapping on one another and pouring on from various angles. I also enjoyed the art by Tommaso Nicolao, which was clearer and easier to follow than Darcy's, feeling a bit more restrained, and served to deliver one of the stronger stories in the book for me, a rather simple tale of two sisters and one man, as well as murder and ghosts. NAUGHTY BITS #34 by Roberta Gregory There are two types of stories in Naughty Bits #34, the autobiographical tales of Roberta Gregory and the fictional (but real-world-based) stories of Bitchy Bitch. Honestly, I found Bitchy Bitch a bit tiresome... while I get the gag that her anger is often hypocritical, the routine wore thin for me, and I get enough of people complaining endlessly and loudly about nothing on the Internet. The strips that featured a more personal look into Gregory's life, however, were quite different. Her emotions show through quite clearly in her strips, whether it's the neurotic worry in the opening strip, the charming weirdness of the dream sequence or the friendly feel of the shopping and con stories. Gregory is very courageous to open herself so plainly to her readers, and the honesty of the stories, along with some really wonderful artwork, makes them very compelling. I'd read a book full of these type of tales, but I don't think I could handle many more pages of Bitchy. THE NIMROD #6 by Lewis Trondheim The Nimrod seems to be the story of Trondheim and his partner, running the gamut from playing video games to enjoying time with friends to discussing philosophy with a street preacher. The story changes gears fairly often, and though I wouldn't say I was lost at any point, I can say that the sudden shifts in location or plot often kicked me out of the book. Trondheim writes and draws his story in a sort of stream-of-consciousness style, with flashbacks, outings, discussions and even commentary on his storytelling style within the story. It's not really the kind of thing I generally enjoy, but I have to respect the level of craft involved. His artwork in particular is beautiful and unique, sparse on detail but very clear and entertaining. WEASEL #5 by Dave Cooper & Mike Mignola Like many of these books, I felt lost about half the time I was reading Weasel. Mignola's story has dialogue and captions, but they are provided in a strange non-language, and the final story in the book follows a sort of dream logic that is hard to make heads or tails of. That said, however, I was completely enthralled by the book, which is absolutely beautiful in the most horrifying way. The lead story, which begins as a relatively straightforward story of jealousy and relationships, quickly turns into a treatise on sex and pushing sexual limits, and though it's so completely removed from my own experience as to be a story about an alien species, it hits on enough universal emotions to be completely approachable. Cooper's work reminds me of Bill Plympton, or maybe someone like Alex Robinson crossed with Eddie Campbell. There's an inhuman quality to the expressions of the characters, but their shapes and what they do is recognizably human, and the result is work that is disturbing. Mignola's story features some of the most impressive work I've seen from him, with the intricate lettering of a false language serving to heighten the sense of gothic otherworldly feeling that he is so good at. I'd be hard pressed to tell you what happened in the very short story, but I can't deny that it brings a mood across. Finally, Cooper delivers a very odd story of a man in a hurry that features compelling nudity and violence and takes the reader on a fast-paced ride, leaving them standing, dizzied, at the end. Amidst the stories are a variety of short art pieces, one reminding me of Japanese paintings, another a bizarre encyclopedia entry from an alien place and two others serving as bookends to the rest of the stories. The end result? Weasel, an art object as much as it is a storytelling device, is disturbing and engrossing. Email Randy Lander comments about this column, or discuss it on the Fourth Rail message board.