Monthly Archive: October 2025

REVIEW: Spider-Man Panel by Panel

Spider-Man Panel by Panel
By Stan Lee, Chip Kidd, Steve Ditko, and Jack Kirby
384 pages/Abrams ComicArts/$60

After the success of Fantastic Four Panel by Panel, this book was inevitable. Thankfully, we get not only Amazing Fantasy #15, but all of Amazing Spider-Man #1. As with the first book, the first few hundred pages are composed of close-up photographs of selected panels and pages from these issues. Geoff Spears is back to do the honors, and there’s a chance to relive the early Silver Age with inferior four-color printing, with its limited color palette and registration issues. There’s something quaint and almost comforting in seeing the old 64-line screens (Ben Day dots to old-timers like me) that we only know now from exaggerated Roy Lichtenstein pieces. When the FF book arrived, I questioned the number of pages devoted to this and still do.

The real treat, and the real substance of the book, arrives partway through. We get the cover feature from Amazing Fantasy, and there are pristine black-and-white scans of Steve Ditko’s original art opposite the printed pages. We therefore get a chance to enjoy Ditko’s linework and the occasional border notes. The side-by-side comparisons are a real treasure, and I remain thankful to the anonymous donor who gave the entire story to the Library of Congress.

The last few dozen pages are where the substance arrives in the form of essays. First, Chip Kidd is waxing nostalgic about these embryonic tales and talking about the approach to this book. Then, Marvel’s Executive Editor, Tom Brevoort, steps up to the plate and delivers a detailed analysis of the stories included, beginning with the cover, which Ditko initially rejected, and the one by Jack Kirby and Ditko that was printed. He nicely reviews the threads that led to the character’s creation, giving just credit to Kirby and his then-partner Joe Simon. He then takes us through both comics, page by page, calling our attention to the marginalia and the intent behind them, such as the stories in Amazing Spider-Man #1 were intended for the following issues of Amazing Fantasy before that title was abruptly cancelled. He shows the evolution of the hyphen in the character’s name and has us study how Ditko handled the FF for the first time.

The book concludes with a contextual essay from historian Peter Sanderson and some words from Sara W. Duke, curator of Popular and Applied Graphic Art in the Prints and Photographs Division of the LOC.

For me, these text pieces make the book worth having. You would have to love Spidey to buy this expensive book, gorgeous as it is with thick paper stock and excellent reproduction.

Last Kiss: Casual Fridays by John Lustig

I felt lazy yesterday, and wanted a book I could read quickly and then write something quickly here. I may have been too lazy, if that’s possible. (I have my doubts.)

So I read John Lustig’s Last Kiss: Casual Fridays . It’s a short, digital-only collection of that strip from 2013 – much like Sex Day , which I read a couple of months ago. In fact, go see that earlier post for all the details of what Last Kiss is and how it works, if you’re interested. The short version is: Lustig takes panels from mostly ’50s romance comics, cleans them up and has them recolored in a modern style (I think by someone else), then adds snarky new captions. So it’s a single-panel comic but entirely out of repurposed artwork, a quirky hybrid of Roy Lichtenstein and Wondermark.

As you can guess from the title of the other book and the cover of this one, the jokes are often directly sexual, but Lustig leans into other clichés as well – there’s a big cluster of “women hate cooking” jokes in this book, for example. Since these are all single panels, the jokes need to be quick and tight – not a lot of room for nuance or wordplay.

I got this book – and the previous one before it – from my library app, which is how I’d recommend reading them; they may also be available from the subscription end of Kindle or other similar outlets. There is a retail price, if you’re thinking about “owning” it, but, as a 68-page book, it’s a higher per-page cost than I’d be comfortable with.

Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.

REVIEW: The Avengers in The Veracity Trap!

The Avengers in The Veracity Trap!
By Chip Kidd & Michael Cho
64 pages/Abrams ComicArts/$25.99

Plain and simple, this book is a valentine to Jack Kirby. Chip Kidd and Michael Cho combine to produce a story that has the look and feel of an early 1960s Avengers story, evoking the King’s art style before it took an evolutionary leap. Set around the time of Avengers #4, we have Giant-Man, Wasp, Thor, Iron Man, and Captain America all on hand. Incongruously, the Hulk is also fighting alongside the World’s Mightiest Heroes.

We open with Loki having gathered a collection of Kirby’s various creatures from Timely’s anthology titles (including Fin Fang Foom, Goom, and his son Googam, and the Toad Men), and before he can unleash them for wanton destruction, here comes the Avengers! Dropping like gods from the sky, the quintet lay waste to the creatures with gorgeous poses and plenty of pin-up pages (branded like the old Marvel pin-ups) and double-page spreads, letting Cho show off his artistic chops.

Just as they appear on the verge of victory, Loki opens his Veracity Vortex, and the heroes are quickly laid low. Thor faces a crisis of conscience when he realizes he is merely a character in a story, his words and actions dictated by others. It’s not long before our heroes come face to face with their overlords: Kidd and Cho, evoking the days when Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and other comics creators were written into the stories.

The creators themselves are shocked when their characters come to life before them and then are taken back to the four-color world of superheroes, where they find themselves as kids. Of course they are. It’s where the spark of imagination was first ignited, and we are reminded that there’s a joy to these stories that has been lost over the years. It’s big and bombastic, and we shuttle between Kidd and Cho’s world and the comic world, all trying to find a way to halt Loki’s evil scheme (precisely what is never spelled out). But the solution requires a Kirby-esque machine that is a treat.

It’s a relatively quick rea,d but the oversized hardcover is a real treat to hold and to be reminded of what drew us to comic books in the first place. It’s not meant to fit into the Marvel Universe continuity, but stands beside it, a shining example of excellence.

Usagi Yojimbo, Book 8: Shades of Death by Stan Sakai

This one was a professional transition – it collects the first six issues (plus stories from issues seven and eight) of the second series of Usagi Yojimbo , from Mirage – but, within the story, there’s no indication of that. Creator Stan Sakai didn’t reboot the series, drop into long explanatory flashback stories for the relaunch, or even make much of an apparent effort to attract any new readers. Well, it was 1993, when “long-running” was a selling point for a comic, unlike today.

As it was, the Mirage series only lasted sixteen issues, and they didn’t manage to publish any collections – this eighth book, and all of the subsequent book-format Usagi materials (I think; there’s been a lot of them and I might be missing some odd item) came out from Dark Horse, which started the third Usagi series in 1996 and published 165 issues over the next twenty years.

That’s the background of Usagi Yojimbo Book 8: Shades of Death , which was originally published in 1997. The current edition, which I read digitally, is from 2010; it doesn’t say what was different but my guess is that it was mostly trade dress – there’s no sign that Sakai changed any of the stories fifteen years later.

Shades includes seven stories, all of which stand alone and don’t directly connect to each other. (When your main character is a wandering adventurer who’s solo most of the time, you can just make stories as you feel like it, and they line up just fine.) Two of them, “Shades of Green” and “Shi,” are long three-parters, sixty-some pages each. Two more – the wordless “The Lizards’ Tale” and the flashback “Battlefield” – are about the length of a single issue, in the low twenty-page range. The last three, “Jizo,” “Usagi’s Garden,” and “Autumn,” are eight-pagers that presumably were backup stories.

Three of those stories feature Usagi as a young rabbit – a kit, I suppose – learning Important Life Lessons from his sensei, Katsuichi. Usagi has never been officially a book for young readers, but it’s always been young-reader-adjacent, with any sex kept implied and the violence stylized enough to pass, and these three pieces show that side of the series strongly: as always, Usagi Yojimbo was a comic told in a register suitable for tweens.

The jump to Mirage also meant another crossover with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; Usagi had met one of them (Leo, maybe?) a few times before, but now all four of the TMNT are summoned to this cod-Edo-Japan world by the traditional old guy (who, unsubtly, Sakai draws to look just like their leader, Splinter) to battle side-by-side with Usagi and defeat the evil ninja, in the first story of the book, “Shades of Green.”

There are other evil ninja in other stories, too: that’s how cod-Edo-Japan stories work: noble samurai battle fiendish ninja, and of course prevail in the end. This isn’t “the end” – Sakai had another four thousand-plus story pages still to come (and I’m not sure that he isn’t still adding more on, even now) – but you know what I mean.

Usagi stories are dependable and fairly predictable, but, luckily, the American comics audience for the past eighty years has craved monthly doses of exactly the same thing, only with slightly different covers so they know to buy it again. So Usagi has been successful commercially, and it’s pretty successful artistically – as long as you like this sort of thing and are comfortable with the moral lessons inherent in any stories about violence experts.

Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.

Yeah! by Peter Bagge and Gilbert Hernandez

I never want to discourage creators from stretching, from trying new things and talking to new audiences. But, sometimes, it just doesn’t really click.

In the late ’90s, Peter Bagge had been making sarcastic comics about grumpy twenty-something slackers in Hate for more than a decade; his work was really closely associated with not just a particular adult audience, but a very specific tone and style. It’s no surprise that he wanted to do something different.

What he did was surprising, though: he wrote the all-ages, Comics Code-approved girl-band comic Yeah! for DC Comics, collaborating with Gilbert Hernandez. (Hernandez’s career has taken a lot of odd turns, and he’s worked with a number of writers over the years, so this was not quite as much of a departure for him – I’ve always gotten the sense that Hernandez just has the desire or need to generate a lot of work, to keep himself engaged and happy, and the more different the better.)

Bagge’s introduction in this 2011 collection of Yeah! – notably from Fantagraphics, longtime publisher of both Bagge and Hernandez, not DC, which is a big signpost to the fortunes of the series for those who can read tea-leaves – notes that he had an eight-year-old daughter at the time, and had gotten happily into “girl culture,” which reignited his love of pop music. There always are reasons and explanations for specific projects; they always make sense to the creators at the time, and enough sense to the publishers that they make it out into the market. The question, always, is how that market responds.

Yeah! was not a success in the market. It ran nine issues, and was only collected a decade later by a different publisher. (And here I should also note that the collection is in black-and-white, but I think the original comics were in color, since characters make comments about the colors of things pretty regularly, and 1999 was awfully late for a book for tween girls without color.)

And the comics are…OK, I suppose. Bagge is a wordy writer, and this reads not too differently from his better-known work, to the point that the regular Bagge reader starts wondering if these characters are actually being honest and straightforward, or if Bagge has just unlocked a previously inaccessible level of sarcasm. There’s one backup strip at the end that Bagge draws himself, and it’s really hard not to read it like a Hate story – Bagge clearly intends for it to be taken straight, but regular readers will assume spleen and bile in his phrases.

Yeah! is the name of the band: Honey, Woo-Woo and Krazy, three best friends not quite out of their teens, a few years into a music career. They are struggling on Earth but the biggest act in the galaxy, beloved by millions across dozens of alien worlds. (But this was a contemporary Earth that hadn’t had a first contact yet, so there’s no commerce with those alien worlds, so the vast loot Yeah! brings in is useless. They don’t seem to even bank it on an alien world so it’s available for tours or such, like the old Soviet Union; they just give it away or ignore it.) They also have an old, nutty guy as their manager: Crusty; his inventions got them out into the galaxy but his general incompetence can’t get them any good gigs on Earth.

The nine issues are each basically standalone, with goofy adventures either on Earth or in space – including the inevitable flashbacks to reveal Who They Are and How They Got Here – as Yeah! chases fame and fortune here (with little success) and gets involved in odd alien things out there. On Earth, they have a rival, Miss Hellraiser, and a band of boys, The Snobs, who always beat them in battle-of-the-bands situations and one of whom has a crush on Woo-Woo. In space, the characters are all one-offs – there’s the driver of their space limo who shows up a couple of times without actually getting a personality or anything to do. The stories are all wordy, and all full of the cultural assumptions and ideas of a guy Bagge’s age (early 40s around this time), including a bunch of hippie jokes.

This is all fine: it’s amusing and entertaining, and the gestalt of Bagge’s writing and Hernandez’s art works well together. It is too wordy, in that old-fashioned comics style, full of long captions and long dialogue balloons that say a lot of the same things over and over again. And it all comes across as something like a generation-later version of Bob Hope: goofy, sui generis comics that are meant to appeal to a younger audience but are full of the ideas and plot devices of old people.

Yeah! is basically forgotten, for good and sufficient reasons. It might not quite deserve that, but most things get forgotten twenty-five years later. If you really loved Josie and the Pussycats (the movie, the concept or the comics) and wish there was something else sorta like that, you might be in luck.

Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.