Author: Andrew Wheeler

Review: ‘Vatican Hustle’ by Greg Houston: Blaxploitation comics… the way you never expected them!

  • Uncategorized
  • December 9, 2009

Vatican Hustle
Greg Houston
NBM, December 2009, $11.95

There are stories that are inextricably mixed up with their original media, stories that would make very little sense translated into another form. Imagine a Gothic Romance novel as a puppet show, or a John Wayne Western as an opera. Until the moment I opened this book, I thought “[[[Blaxploitation]]] movie as a comic” was another example.

(I’m not completely sure I’ve been convinced otherwise, either.)

[[[Vatican Hustle]]] is a Blaxploitation movie done as a comic – when it’s not being a parody of a Blaxploitation movie, or vaguely wandering off into Chester Gould territory, or just being terrifically proud with and impressed by itself. If the art style – fairly well described by the publisher as “a hilarious mash-up of Ralph Steadman, Basil Wolverton and Chester Gould’s bad guys,” though that misses Kevin O’Neill, whom I’d list first and foremost – doesn’t tip you off that this is wacky with a capital Wack, the fact that the hero is named Boss Karate Black Guy Jones will certainly do the trick.

It’s set in Baltimore, in an unspecified time that could be the ‘70s as well as today, and our hero – whom I will refer to as BKBGJ for brevity – is, of course, a black dick who’s a sex machine with all the chicks. (Literally – the book begins post-coitally, with BKBGJ walking his latest conquest to the door and chatting about his “shorty robe” before dealing with the inevitable arriving gangsters who arrive to take him, by force if necessary, to see their boss.) BKBGJ is the absolute best, feared and respected even by the mob, and so is hired by that mob boss to retrieve his beloved runaway daughter before her boyfriend uses her in donkey porn.

The trail leads to Rome – as the title implies, or promises – and to the Pope. The Pope is also a tough guy: hard-drinking, hard-living, perhaps the only man in the world who can stand up to BKBGJ. But that implies much more of a linear plot than Vatican Hustle provides – this is a loose-limbed book, sprawling in all directions in search of laughs or snickers from clowns with leprosy, “theme hobos,” dive bars, Gould-level deformed faces, and anything else Houston can think up and throw in.

Vatican Hustle isn’t consistently funny – not even in the places where it’s deliberately trying to be funny. But it is consistently weird, and Houston either has no fear or no filter – and whichever one it is, it makes for a succession of bizarrely fascinating pages. This is definitely the work of a unique talent, and there isn’t anything else like it. I’m not sure whether to hope that Houston settles down and learns to modulate his talent to consistently replicate his hits and avoid his misses, or to expect that he’ll get even more extreme and bizarre. Either way, Vatican Hustle is like no other book you will read this year, and that’s damn impressive.

Andrew Wheeler has been a publishing professional for nearly twenty years, with a long stint as a Senior Editor at the Science Fiction Book Club and a current position at John Wiley & Sons. He’s been reading comics for longer than he cares to mention, and maintains a personal, mostly book-oriented blog at antickmusings.blogspot.com.

Publishers who would like their books to be reviewed at ComicMix should contact ComicMix through the usual channels or email Andrew Wheeler directly at acwheele (at) optonline (dot) net.

Review: Three Collections of Classic Adaptations

  • Uncategorized
  • December 7, 2009

raven-and-other-poems4-2625735

Comics don’t have to be bad for you, you know. They can be edifying and uplifting, partaking of the greatest glories of the finest books even written. At least, that’s what the purveyors of various adaptations of  “the great books” – curiously, nearly all of which were conveniently out of copyright and thus didn’t require any licensing fees – have claimed for the past fifty-some years. I have before me three very different books that all adapt mostly old and out of copyright works for a modern audience, so let’s take a look at what’s going on these days…

Classics Illustrated: The Raven & Other Poems
By Edgar Allan Poe; Illustrated by Gahan Wilson
NBM/Papercutz, May 2009, $9.95

Classics Illustrated is the longest-running brand-name in the adapting-old-books space, dating back to 1941 (when the line was launched as Classic Comics), and was the educational comic of choice for an entire generation of parents (and the crib-sheet for their generation of children) until it ended, for the first time, in 1971. There have been periodic attempts to re-ignite the brand since then – this particular book was originally published during one of those attempts, by First Comics around 1990 – but none have been as broadly successful as the main thirty-year sequence from the Gilberton Company.

This particular book, [[[The Raven and Other Poems]]], is an outlier in the Classics Illustrated series, since it doesn’t adapt and abridge a single long-form story (usually a novel, with some plays or other works) into comics, but instead reprints, in their entirety, nine Poe poems with illustrations by Wilson. So it’s not really a graphic novel at all, but the kind of illustrated collection that any publisher for younger readers might publish. (It’s also quite short, at only 48 pages of Poe-Wilson material.)

Aside from “The Raven,” these are primarily shorter Poe verses, mixing his best-known lines (“Annabel Lee,” “The Conqueror Worm”) with poems that only Poe devotees will recognize, like “Lines on Ale” and “The Sleeper.” It’s inherently a small, scattershot selection, but it does give a decent sense of what Poe was like as a poet – morbid, ostentatiously wordy, with that galumphingly even rhythm through his long lines – so that new readers can decide if they like him or not. (And – who knows? – there’s always a new generation of morbid goth/emo kids to glom onto Poe, so it’s not the forlorn hope it might seem.)

Wilson is the perfect choice to illustrate Poe; he’s spent his long illustrative career in the realms of the humorously macabre, and his lines can be just as grotesque – and as carefully, deliberately so – as Poe’s. This isn’t new Wilson work, of course, but it’s a strong collection of Wilson illustrations, and it’s great to have them back in print.

(more…)

Manga Friday: High School Girls With Superpowers, Mark Two

  • News
  • December 4, 2009

Manga-format comics have a tropism
for high school even stronger than that of sunflowers for the sun – it is possible to find manga without a hint of high-schoolery in
them, but serious digging is required. But you couldn’t loose an arrow in a
manga warehouse without hitting at least one book about girls in sailor outfits.
(Hm. Did I just inadvertently explain the appeal?) So we reviewers have to
specialize even further. This week I have three a) second volumes in series b)
set in high schools c) with female lead characters who d) have amazing and
unexpected powers.

Even there, I’m sure a devoted
reader could name a dozen or more series that fit qualifications b) through d)!

Sumomomo, Momomo, Vol. 2
By Shinobu Ohtaka
Yen Plus, October 2009, $10.99

Ohtaka’s comedic piss-take on the
“martial arts high school” genre here veers more towards the overwrought drama
and fighting technique minutia of its targets than the tight, original satire
of the first volume, which is disappointing – there’s a center of gravity of
standard manga traditions that has the force of a black hole in Japanese
comics, dragging every outlier to be closer to the generic standard. And so the
supposed main character of Sumomomo, Momomo – Koushi Inuzuka, scion to a great family of karate
champions, who only wants to be left alone to study and become a great
prosecutor – is either pushed aside entirely or relegated to running and
cowering, like any other weak young man in a manga. (If this is opaque to you,
perhaps you need to drop back to my review of the first volume.)

Oh, it’s still funny – very funny
at points, particularly when it’s picking on the ex-Olympic gymnast gym
teacher, Daigoro, who is a fine self-satisfied gym rat caricature and gets shown
up repeatedly by a cute little girl. And the new enemies this volume are fun as
well: teenage Yakuza hit-girl Iroha Miyamoto and her overly emotional sidekick
Hanzou. But Iroha falls in love with Koushi nearly the moment she shows up, and
is under the impression that Koushi is in love with her. And so Sumomomo, Momomo comes one step closer to being yet another harem manga.

I hope I’m wrong, and that
the next volume sees more of Koushi being a budding lawyer and talking his way
out of problems, and less karate and pretty girls throwing themselves at him.
But I know which way to bet when it comes to manga! (more…)

Hey, Kids – Graphic Novels! A Review of Three Books for the Young ‘Uns

  • News
  • December 2, 2009

Of course, we all know that comics can be for adults now…but
they don’t have to be. Some of the best books
out there now were made for kids – which is just the way it was fifty years
ago, come to think of it. Now, I’m not claiming that these three books are the
best out there – my reading has been slipshod and random this year – but they’re
all worth reading for the right audience:

Tiny Tyrant: Volume One: The Ethelbertosaurus
By Lewis Trondheim and Fabrice
Parme
First Second, May 2009, $9.95

Trondheim is a prolific French cartoonist for both younger
readers and adults, with books like Kaput and Zosky and A.L.I.E.E.E.N. for the rugrats, the Dungeon series (with Joann Sfar and others) for various
audiences, and books like his diary comics (Little Nothings) for adults. Tiny Tyrant sees Trondheim in full kid-pleasing mode, with pint-size
King Ethelbert of Porto Cristo running amok and terrorizing all the adults
around him (with the possible exception of the nearly unflappable Miss Prime
Minister).

This volume collects six stories of King Ethelbert, as he
discovers dinosaur bones, avoids assassination, engages in an
all-crowned-head-of-state motor race, meets Santa Claus, chases his favorite
author, and replaces all children in his domains with robot duplicates of
himself. Nothing ever turns out as he hopes, of course, but the stories have massive
amounts of verve and energy along the way, propelled by Parme’s stylish and
classy art (reminiscent of the UPA style).

Ethelbert is the kind of fictional character we’re all
deeply happy is purely fictional – he’d be a massive pain in person, but he’s
utterly funny and lovable when contained between the pages of a book.

(One note to consumers: this volume contains
exactly half of the stories published in 2007 in the book just titled Tiny
Tyrant. In publishing as in
business, the name of the game is putting together things that were originally
separate, and then separating things that were together. Repeat every few years
until interest runs out.) (more…)

a-family-matter2-1810729

Review: Three Will Eisner Reprints – ‘A Family Matter’, ‘Minor Miracles’, and ‘Life on Another Planet’

  • Uncategorized
  • November 30, 2009

a-family-matter2-1810729Will Eisner has a towering place in the modern comics field
– the premier awards in the field are named after him, and for good reason –
due both to his pioneering Spirit
newspaper insert from the ‘40s and ‘50s and to the graphic novels he started
creating in the late ‘70s, after a long hiatus from the field. And that puts
him in an enviable position, in that huge swaths of his work is in print much
of the time. But perhaps that isn’t
all that enviable, since it means that some, well, lesser work gets reprinted as well.

The three books below were brought back into print this year
by W.W. Norton as part of their large and growing Will Eisner Library; they’re
packaged handsomely and would fit well on the shelf along with other books in
that series. But these three titles also show some of Eisner’s most glaring
faults and problems, particularly the biggest issue: his unbreakable addiction
to the most obvious strains of melodrama.

A Family Matter
By Will Eisner
W.W. Norton, July 2009, $15.95

Norton’s cover for [[[A Family Matter]]]­ – originally published in 1998 by Kitchen Sink –
telegraphs the melodrama here, as a dumpy Eisner middle-aged woman bawls, her
hands clenched in front of her dramatically underlit face. (The clichéd pose is
to the negative, but, on the other hand, Eisner is one of the few major comics
artists willing and able to draw realistic, unattractive people regularly and
put them at the center of his stories. And since the majority of humanity is unattractive, it’s important to have artists who show
them as they are.)

The story is set in familiar Eisner territory: a rich patriarch
has been ailing for years, and is essentially unable to communicate now. But it’s
his ninetieth birthday, so the entire squabbling clan – and no one squabbles
like Eisner characters – must gather for the occasion and maneuver for position
in the old man’s good graces. There’s the ne’er-do-well son, the daughter who
married a successful man, another daughter whose husband isn’t quite as
successful, the downtrodden lawyer son (lawyers are always harried and
overworked in Eisner; always small storefront shysters rather than high-powered
white-shoe types), the artistic younger daughter, and a sprinkling of kids from
the next generation. Despite one cell phone, the story feels like it’s set in
the usual Eisner time and milieu – vaguely mid-‘50s, relatively prosperous but
with dark clouds, with domestic servants for middle-class people, and all the
women wearing dowdy dresses and aprons all the time (and probably have
whale-boned foundation garments underneath).

Eisner’s characters also talk a lot, explaining the plot,
their motivations, and dreams to each other – it’s a bit like a musical on
paper in that way, and has to be taken in a similar spirit, as a contrivance
that makes thoughts manifest. (Eisner doesn’t use captions in this story, and
was never much for thought balloons – his people say what they feel, no matter what.) But he’s also
rehashing three generations of family history here, much of it only alluded to
or mentioned once, so there’s a density in Family Matter which is uncommon in a graphic novel outside of the
work of Gilbert Hernandez. But, again, that’s the soap-operatic aspect of Family
Matter: there’s always another
complication, another skeleton in the closet, another grievance.

Family Matter is soapy and sometimes obvious, a comics version of
the mid-20th century ethnic soap operas. (Though, thankfully, he’d
toned down his most over-the-top Borscht Belt Jewish material and the bold and
dotted E*M*P*H*A*S*I*S in
dialogue that he used so heavily earlier.) It will feel very old-fashioned and unusual
to readers used to the cool, deadpan modern independent comics scene. But
Eisner is wonderful with body language and character types, and his people
never lack for motivation, so books like this will continue to be of interest –
particularly to aspiring creators, who want to see the broad, obvious ways of
creating effects so that they can then work on making those ways more subtle
and quiet.

(more…)

Manga Friday: ‘Red Snow’ by Susumu Katsumata

  • News
  • October 30, 2009

Red Snow
By Susumu Katsumata
Drawn & Quarterly, October
2009, $24.95

From a Western perspective, it
would be understandable to assume “gekiga” meant “short, depressing Japanese comics
stories,” even if that’s not the most accurate definition. (Gekiga can also be long depressing Japanese comics stories, of course.) And, since
the current exemplar of gekiga for those of us in the English-speaking world is
Yoshihiro Tatsumi, there’s a sense that those short, depressing stories need to
be set in the modern world, that gekiga
is a literature of urban ennui and the
dislocations of modern capitalism.

But gekiga is wider than that; Katsumata is another one of its
masters, and his collection Red Snow is
filled entirely with stories of a rural, pre-war Japan – but one as filled with
bitter unhappiness and struggle as any badly-thrown-up Tokyo apartment building
of the ‘60s. His rural landscapes have nothing of nostalgia about them; these
are insular, stifling, dull little farming communities, full of equally dull
and small-minded people, out in the middle of nowhere.

A few of these stories have
supernatural elements, but the only creatures that appear are kappa – mischievous water spirits that fill the
role of leprechauns or pixies in Japanese folklore, and were thought of as
being equally as common and prosaic. The fantasy in Red Snow isn’t numinous or uplifting – it’s just yet
another annoyance in a small village full of them, just one more damn thing to
have to deal with. Kappa are no worse than the rich guy in town who thinks he
has the right to seduce any woman around – who’s also called “kappa.” (more…)

Review: ‘Stitches’ by David Small — a comics memoir of an amazingly bad childhood

Stitches: A Memoir
David Small
W.W. Norton, September 2009,
$24.95

You can’t write a memoir these days unless you had a bad
childhood – call it the Law of Oprah. You have to have some horrible secrets,
either your own or those of your parents/keepers/guardians, that you can
reveal, tearfully, to an enthralled TV audience when called upon. You may not
make it to that TV-show couch, since the competition for a bad-enough childhood
is fierce, but that’s the aim. Memoirs of anything positive are utterly passé –
even a book like Eat Pray Love needs to
start with heartbreak before it can get to happiness.

Then there’s the unrelated but equally unsettling
requirement that only non-fictional graphic novels can be taken really seriously by the outside world. From [[[Maus to Persepolis]]], from [[[Fun Home to Palestine]]], it’s only respectable if it’s real. As far as our mothers and cousins and next-door neighbors know, “graphic novels” means expensive comic-book stories about either superheroes or the author’s tormented relationship with his family.

[[[Stitches]]] is perfectly positioned at the intersection of those two publishing trends: it’s the true story of author David Small’s appalling childhood, told as comics pages with cinematic “camera motions” that will appeal to readers not used to reading comics. Even the art style Small uses in Stitches adds to the seriousness; Small has a sketchy, loose line of variable width here, strong to define the figures and lighter and looser for backgrounds, and washes in various tones of grey. In fact, the whole
book is grey – even the black line looks like just another shade of the murk.

(more…)

Comical Lives: A Paired Review of ‘Little Nothings 2’ and ‘Giraffes in My Hair’

  • News
  • October 19, 2009

The impulse to anecdote is ubiquitous in mankind; we all
want to tell our own stories. Since those stories happened to us, we naturally think that they’re fascinating…and
sometime are surprised when the rest of the world doesn’t agree with us. Comics
creators have been spilling out their lives onto their pages for a few decades
now – since the undergrounds, if not before that – and the autobiographical comic
is now its own cliché. But there’s still room to do interesting things with autobiographical
materials – at least, I hope
there is, since it seems that we’re destined to be deluged with books of true
stories…

Little Nothings, Vol. 2: The Prisoner Syndrome
Lewis Trondheim
NBM/ComicsLit, March 2009,
$14.95

Trondheim mostly makes fictional comics – Dungeon and Kaput and Zosky and Mister O and many more – but he also has kept a comics blog
in French, mostly focused on the small moments of his life. Three collections
from the blog have been published in his native France; the first two have been
translated so far for the English-speaking world. (I reviewed the first one
here back in March of last year.)

For the “Little Nothings” blog, Trondheim works in
watercolor, mostly in single pages – each one the record of a single event, or
a short conversation. The emphasis is on observation – each strip is a crystallized
instant, and clearly the blog as a whole is not intended to seriously chronicle
Trondheim’s life. As with the Dungeon
books, all of the people are drawn anthropomorphically – Trondheim and his
family are various kinds of bird, and most of the others look like different
kinds of mammals – rats and dogs and cats. (In the usual unsettling way of
anthropomorphic comics, Trondheim’s family also has a pair of real cats, Orly
and Roissy, and other actual animals show up from time to time.)

Either Trondheim travels an awful lot or travel is more
conducive to diary comics than his regular life, since a clear majority of the
comics here are about trips – to the Angouleme comics festival (a year when he
was the Guest of Honor), several other comics events, and vacation in Greece,
Guadeloupe, and Corsica. That does keep Prisoner Syndrome from being a succession of Trondheim-sitting-at-his-desk
pages – there are a number of those, of course, since that’s where a cartoonist
spends most of his time – and ties nicely into the title. In one of the early
strips in this book, Trondheim learns about “Prisoner Syndrome,” in which
people who spend all of their time in the same place gradually get more and
more tired from doing less and less – and so he decides to go to more comics
festivals, to keep himself healthy.

There are no grand gestures in Prisoner
Syndrome, no deep thoughts or big
moments – the series is called Little
Nothings for a reason. But there
are many thoughtful little moments, of the kind that make up all of our lives,
and Trondheim is an artful and nuanced portrayer of his own internal life. It’s
a lovely book of the small things that go together to make up an everyday life. (more…)

Manga Friday: Supernatural Teens

  • News
  • October 2, 2009

Where would comics be without the
stories of young people with amazing powers? Oh, sure, you could cobble
together a world canon of stories with no supernatural stuff at all, but it
would have to be a masterpiece of the gerrymanderer’s art. And why would you
want to – when you can have all of the moody, or conflicted, or ridiculously
innocent teenagers with amazing abilities you ever thought of? Like the main
characters of these three books, for example…

Wicked Lovely: Desert Tales, Volume 1: Sanctuary
Written by Melissa Marr; Art by
Xian Nu Studio
Tokyopop/HarperCollins, May 2009,
$12.99

Wicked Lovely is the name of a novel by Marr, and it also seems to be
the umbrella title for her novels about teens and faeries (and teen faeries,
and faerie teens) in the modern world. The novels seem to be about a girl named
Aislinn – no self-respecting teen-novel heroine ever has a name like Doris or
Mabel – and her travails in high school and the Faerie Courts. But this manga
volume – it says on its back cover that it’s “manga,” if you don’t believe me,
and never mind that it reads left-to-right and was written by an American – is set
somewhere in the western desert, where once-mortal Rika lives quietly, trying
to avoid both humans and the local faeries.

Rika was discovered and turned –
not exactly “seduced and abandoned,”
since she wasn’t able to give him what he wanted – many years ago by the Summer
King, Keenan, who turns up early in this book to give an excuse for some
backstory and to fail to get her to swear fealty to him. She refuses, of course
– she’s solitary now, and happy that way. What does it matter if most of the
solitary fay are nasty enough to make “mischievous” a very weak term to
describe them?

But they’re just there for spice;
this is a series for teenage girls, which means Rika has to see a cute boy –
Jace, who paints, like she does – and save him from those nasty fay, who try to
kill him for no good reason. He’s sweet and innocent enough to stare wide-eyed
at her abilities – those nasty wild fay don’t give up, or there wouldn’t be a
plot here other than “elf girl and artist boy meet cute and gaze into each
other’s eyes,” – and the book is low-key enough that they’re just mildly
kissing by the end. (Which seems awfully tame for a fairie who’s hundreds of
years old.)

Wicked Lovely: Desert
Tales: Sanctuary has too many
colons in its title and a thin plot, but I have to expect that it’s just the
kind of thing teen girls will want: a bit of angst, a wish to be alone that
doesn’t actually lead to loneliness, and a cute boy that the girl gets to
protect and pursue. I’m just twenty years too old and the wrong gender to
appreciate it properly. (more…)

Fathers and Sons: reviews of Danica Novgorodoff’s ‘Refresh, Refresh’ and ‘The Big Kahn’ by Neil Kleid and Nicolas Cinquegrani

  • News
  • September 30, 2009

I should start by quoting something weighty – the most
obvious would be that old Tolstoy saw about happy and unhappy families – but
let’s take that as written, shall we? Comics have given short shrift to
families for the past seventy years – at least, the American comic-book
industry has, though strip comics grew fat and bloated on the hijinks of
aggressively “relatable” families for that long and longer.

Even the undergrounds – typically about countercultural
types, who occasionally complain about their parents but try to avoid them as
much as possible – and the modern alt-comics movement (Alienated Loners R us!)
avoided family dynamics. Sure, there are exceptions, from Will Eisner to art
spiegelman, but the average American comics protagonist is an orphan – or wishes
he was.

Maybe that’s starting to change, or maybe I just have a couple
of anomalies on my hand. Either way, today, I have two books where that isn’t the case – not to say that these dads might not be
dead, absent, or problematic, but they’re definitely part of the story. And
their sons care who, and what – and where – their fathers are.

Refresh, Refresh
A graphic novel by Danica
Novgorodoff, adapted from a screenplay by James Ponsoldt based on the story by
Benjamin Percy
First Second, October 2009,
$17.99

What do men do? For many in the comics reviewing world,
that’s an easy question: men punch each other in the face. But they don’t have Refresh,
Refresh in mind when they say that. This graphic
novel is set in a small Oregon town, just a couple of years ago, where most of
the adult men are off fighting with the Marines in Iraq. And their sons –
mostly Cody and Josh and Gordon, three highschool-aged boys who are at the core
of this particular story – talk about joining up when they’re old enough, or
working in the local factory, or maybe even getting out.

But Refresh, Refresh
is based on a literary short story, and if there’s one thing we all know, it’s
that there’s no getting out of a story like that – it’s all doom and gloom
until the moment-of-clarity ending. So this town is stifling and without any
options, the boys drifting – from backyard boxing to underage drinking in bars
to racing around on motorbikes and sleds – as they rebel without any fathers to
drag them into line. (The narration – presumably taken from the original Percy
story; I don’t want to blame Novgorodoff for any of it – is particularly
heavy-handed in that area, such as this sequence from p.83: “We didn’t fully
understand the reason our fathers were fighting. We only understood that they
had to fight. ‘It’s all part of the game,’ my grandfather said. ‘It’s just the
way it is.’ We could only cross our fingers and wish on stars and hit refresh,
refresh, hoping they would return to us.”)

What they hit “refresh, refresh” on is their e-mail
in-boxes; that scene recurs several times in the story. Oddly, though, it’s the
only incursion of modern technology into a story that could otherwise be
Vietnam-era. They don’t follow their fathers’ platoon on CNN.com or an Armed
Forces website; don’t call each other on cellphones; don’t think about or track
or seem to notice the war on TV or the Internet; even their laptops seem to be
screwed down to tables, for all the moving they do.

Refresh, Refresh is a very traditional story about young men in
small towns; I could probably quote half-a-dozen Bruce Springsteen songs on
roughly the same topic, and with pretty much the same moral and tone. (And that’s
without diving into the world of the realist short story, where kitchen-sink
dramas almost require young men with promise to be squandered.) Novgorodoff
tells this version with a bit too much self-conscious artistry – too many deer
looking up at airplanes, too many of those explaining-the-theme narration boxes
– but she keeps the focus tight and specific, on these three boys and their
world, their choices and possibilities. A story like this is nearly always
about badchoices, though, so it
would be best to come to Refresh, Refresh with a MFA-teacher’s fatalism, and not expect anything so comic-booky
as a happy ending for the boys who punch each other in the face. (more…)

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