Category: Reviews

REVIEW: Dexter’s Laboratory: The Complete Series

I must admit that I missed Dexter’s Laboratory when it originally aired on the Cartoon Network from 1996-2003. Friends raved about its charm and humor and the brilliance of animator Genndy Tartakovsky. So, the arrival of Dexter’s Laboratory: The Complete Series is welcome. On sale today from Warner Home Entertainment, the set includes all 78 episodes plus the special Dexter’s Laboratory: Ego Trip.

According to the press release, the show is about half-Einstein, half-third grader Dexter.  This boy genius creates the most amazing inventions in the top-secret and highly advanced laboratory attached to his room.  But his genius can’t stop his space-brained sister Dee Dee from messing up and his work and pushing his buttons.  Or his annoying rival Mandark Astronomonov from constantly trying to one-up him.  Can Dexter use his intelligence to solve his problems?  Time to fight fire with…SCIENCE!

Well, who doesn’t love science?

What’s nice here is that Dexter and his rival are both very smart third graders, and the series celebrates smart people. Mom and Dad are somehow entirely clueless to the secrets hidden in Dexter’s bedroom, an annoying trope. However, Dee Dee finds the gadgets and gizmos and is clever enough to use them.

In addition to Dexter’s exploits, the first two seasons included segments featuring Monkey, Dexter’s pet lab-monkey, and the Justice Friends, a trio of superheroes sharing an apartment.

The show wasn’t afraid to experiment, such as the second season’s finale, the 25-minute “Last But Not Beast”. And after working on The PowerPuff Girls, Tartakovsky came back for Ego Trip, intending it to be the last word on Dexter.

Tartakovsky’s quirky sense of humor is clear in these seasons, especially when compared with the work of Chris Savino, who stepped in to run the series after the show seemingly ended and Tartakovsky moved on to Samurai Jack. The look and feel were okay but lacked the spark that made Dexter so funny.

The strong voice cast of Christine Cavanaugh, Allison Moore, Kath Soucie, Jeff Bennett, Kat Cressida, Eddie Deezen, and Candi Milo helped convey that sense of whimsy. After Cavanaugh died recently, Tartakovsky said he couldn’t imagine rebooting the show without her.

Interestingly, “Dial M for Monkey: Barbequor” and “Rude Removal” were banned from broadcast and are absent from the collection, making it a little less complete.

The 1080p transfer is just fine, retaining the sharp colors and images from the series; the Dolby Digital Audiotrack is equally good, so these are fine to rewatch at home.

No Special features were included.

Nancy by Olivia Jaimes

It’s not often that a syndicate gets praise for how they handle the transition on a legacy comic. This is the biggest example I can think of, and one of the biggest transitions in decades. By comparison, the new Flash Gordon artist this year is more typical: breathing new life into a beloved old feature by doing basically the same thing, just with more zip and energy.

Olivia Jaimes wasn’t doing the same thing with Nancy in 2018. What was once a finely tuned engine of precisely drawn gags by Ernie Bushmiller had devolved into a bland collection of glurge, drawn by Guy Gilchrist as the demented spawn of Precious Moments and Art Frahm. But Nancy had been through transitions before: it’s easy to forget that Bushmiller himself took over a strip then called Fritzi Ritz in 1925, added Nancy as a character, and shifted the whole strip based on what he wanted to do and what the audience wanted to see.

Jaimes – even today, her actual identity is a closely guarded secret; all that’s publicly known is that she had a webcomic before Nancy, is female, and is believed to be relatively young – looked backwards to Bushmiller in some things, like her fondness for meta gags and references to “the cartoonist.” She also dragged Nancy entirely into the modern world, something the very backward-looking Gilchrist had no interest in doing.

The syndicate seems to be pitching Nancy these days to actual kids, which is a major change from the last three or four decades. I don’t know how many actual eight-year-olds identify with Nancy – maybe, she’s prickly and demanding and self-centered and sure of her own righteousness like so many real-world kids of that age – but I guess that’s working for them.

This book – just called Nancy  – came out less than a year after Jaimes started the strip, back in 2019. I don’t know if it’s her complete first six months, but it’s something like that: this is how it started, what the big transition looked like from the other side. Compared to the work Jaimes is doing on the strip now – more than five years later – it’s simpler, starker in its drawing and more in-your-face Internet-meme-y in its gags, than the more organic, story-driven work she’s doing now.

I miss some of that anything-can-happen atmosphere of the early Jaimes years: it felt a bit more Bushmillerian then, since he was always a cartoonist who would draw absolutely anything in service of the best gag he had for that day. But this book is a good record of those days: a somewhat blockier Nancy and Sluggo, their eyes bigger and less expressive, their clothes more templated and old-fashioned, their dialogue more aggressively mentioning newer technology.

Even if you didn’t catch “Sluggo Is Lit” the first time around, check this out if you like smart gag cartoons. Nancy was always a great engine for them, and Jaimes tuned that engine back up and got it running beautifully.

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

REVIEW: Spider-Man: Cosmic Chaos!

Spider-Man: Cosmic Chaos!
By Mike Maihack
Amulet/96 pagers/#1299 (hardcover), $9.99 (digital)

I like Mike Maihack’s artwork, which I find accessible and lots of fun. I feel bad for taking him to task for his popular Cleopatra in Space, but that was years ago, and lately, he’s been producing material far more to my liking.

Here, we have the third of his Spider-Man team-up books aimed at 6-9-year-olds. His storytelling sensibilities are sharp and approachable. Maihack told School Library Journal, “For a more established character like Spidey, it was about tapping into his friendly and neighborly disposition toward everything. Those are both things I could completely connect with. After that, I find it pretty intuitive to know how each character is going to react when you confront them with other characters or toss them into a giant mess of a situation. No matter where they come from, I discover ways of making them my own.”

So, we have a Spider-Man missing the angst who is adventuring in stories scaled to the readership, which includes simplified versions of the Marvel Universe’s denizens. In this story, he finds himself in space, trying to return the Silver Surfer’s surfboard to him. Along the way, he finds himself coming into possession of a vurbfzax, a cosmic talisman. Just seven were manufactured as rare premiums in Celestrio’s cereal and Rocket warns, “Combining all seven can have universe-shattering consequences!” (I suppose this is for readers too young to know about the Infinity Stones.)

Of course, all seven will be brought together, and cosmic wackiness ensures, bringing in Ego the Living Planet, Galactus, the Watcher, and the Collector. Things are looking pretty bad until the resolution presents itself in a surprising way.

There are some fine running gags about waffles and dolphins, and the core essence of the Marvel characters is nicely distilled for easy accessibility.

The packed story actually unfolds in a well-paced way, never crowding the artwork and making sure the characters each get a chance to shine.

This one makes for solid reading if you have someone looking for summer adventures.

Time Under Tension by M.S. Harkness

How do any of us choose the next book to read? Looking at a big list of possibilities – all things you don’t know well, all things new and different – what sparks the thought “that one”?

This time, it was hair.

On the cover of Time Under Tension , her major 2023 graphic memoir, creator M.S. Harkness draws her hair as a giant, swoopy, structural thing – almost a separate, solid object, like a shark’s fin. That said to me “this is a creator who is comfortable with caricature, who gets that cartooning is how to put complicated ideas down on the page. She’s going to be interesting to read on a craft and structure level.”

I don’t want to say “I was right.” Let’s say I accurately noticed some clear strengths in Harkness’s immediate, uncompromising work. Let’s say that she both has the drawing and page-layout chops to tell a difficult story well, and both the material in her own life and the mental strength to turn that into art to work from. Let’s say I was not disappointed.

This is autobiographical: I assume it’s true as much as any memoir is, that some characters may be somewhat fictionalized or events moved in time or dialogue reconstructed to work better on the page. It feels real. Harkness has an immediacy, in her bold lines and her in-your-face storytelling, that tells the reader she is not fucking around here.

We open just before her art-school graduation, in what turns out to be an extended prologue that jumps back and forth in time during that taut moment of almost that is the month before that big day. All of the work is done; the group show is being hung. Harkness knows she will graduate. There’s a moment where a teacher bluntly tells her “I had to keep everyone else from failing. I was never really worried about you. Your art career or whatever…you’ll be fine.”

This section sets up the tensions and issues Harkness will be working through during the bulk of the book, rolling out over most of the next year.

And, no matter what that art professor thought, she is not fine.

She’s organized, focused, driven. She has a plan and multiple goals. She’s working on her first graphic novel and studying to become a personal trainer. She has a sympathetic fellow-artist roommate as a support system, and is plugged into the larger comics world.

She’s also doing random one-off sex-work jobs to plug holes in her budget. The book description says she’s also selling weed for the same purpose, but we really don’t see that in the story. She has a messy relationship with an up-and-coming MMA fighter – she is, or was, his dealer, and a fuck-buddy for this guy who already has a “girlfriend.” She wants to be more to him than he’s willing to give, and he keeps coming back but is at least honest about what’s going on.

Behind all that is a horrible childhood: a sexually abusive father about to get out of prison and reaching out through some kind of reparations program to make an “apology” she wants nothing to do with. A mother who means well but who Harkness sees as weak and doesn’t have much in common with.

I don’t want to psychoanalyze her, especially based on her own presentation. But there’s clearly trauma there that she’s still trying to get away from, and a complex nexus of physicality: working out herself, helping other people’s bodies get strong as a trainer, the random paid sex, the toll on arms and back from hunching over a drawing board. Time Under Tension isn’t really about all of those physical demands on her body, and how they intersect with each other, but I wouldn’t be surprised if her next book was – or the book after that. 

Harkness seeks out therapists, which doesn’t go well. She knows she’s driven and goal-focused, but feels like she’s not connecting with people: they’re all just roles in this march forward, each one just a piece of one of her projects.

She has to work it out herself, the same way she does everything. More work, more pushing forward, one day at a time.

In the way of comics, it may be telling the story of a few years ago: I see that Harkness is now thirty-one. Time Under Tension was Harkness’s third book; the first two were also comics memoirs. She’s said that she intends to do five books in this “series.” But this one stands alone: it tells a full story brilliantly, with an unblinking eye on her own life and problems.

And her hair is magnificent. Harkness has a stark style with strategically deployed spots of black, and her hair is the most consistent large black element on most of these pages, drawing the eye to its complexity and unruliness. I wonder if we will see that hair settle down in future books, as Harkness moves forward in life and gets her demons more under control. I hope so. I’d love to see it.

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

REVIEW: Welcome Back, Kotter: The Complete Series

As an avid child of television, Friday nights were something to look forward to as ABC had the coolest shows from 8-11 p.m. Nestled between The Patridge Family and The Odd Couple was Room 222, more a dramedy than a straightforward sitcom. As school let out in January 1974, the network clearly wasn’t done with classes as just over a year later, they debuted a true sitcom: Welcome Back, Kotter.

The series ran until May 1979, and its superb casting catapulted John Travolta to superstardom. Born from standup comic Gabe Kapler’s routines about his Brooklyn high school experiences, the premise saw Gabe Kotter return to his alma mater, James Buchanan High, this time as a teacher. He was assigned the lowest performing students, dubbed the Sweathogs, of which he was once one.

Filmed before an audience on videotape, it closely resembled the other popular half-hour shows of the era. What set it apart was the cast and humor, which were less topical than Norman Lear’s CBS offerings but sharper than the lowest common denominator sitcoms. The series has lingered in memory, given the cast and humor, which are still found on cable. Warner Home Entertainment has periodically released single-season sets and the complete series. Welcome Back, Kotter: The Complete Series is now available on traditional DVD for a brand new generation.

From John Sebastian’s memorable title track to Kotter’s homelife, the sitcom didn’t confine itself to the traditional school setting. Most episodes opened and closed with Kotter and his wife Julie (Marcia Strassman), and fairly quickly, she found herself at the school or the Sweathogs in their apartment.

The regulars were distinct and multicultural, from handsome dimbulb Vinnie Barbarino (Travolta) to Black athlete Freddie “Boom Boom” Washington (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs), to Epstein (Robert Hegyes), a Puerto-Rican, whose forged notes from “Epstein’s Mother” were always good for a laugh to Arnold Horshack (Ron Palillo), who was just the odd man out in most things. Their catchphrases— “Up your nose with a rubber hose!” for example—were less than creative, but the ensemble played well with one another. Kapler’s Groucho Marx impressions were timely given the 70’s revived interest in the Marx Brothers and gave the parents something to laugh with.

The simple dilemmas of the day rarely involved academics and were filled with life lessons and laughs. The show’s first two seasons are the strongest, and now that I am a high school teacher and have my own cadre of Sweathogs to deal with, I nod a lot in appreciation for Kotter’s issues. The full scope of a teacher’s responsibilities could have been better mined, but at least the series treated the profession with respect.

You can watch and laugh at most of the episodes today, even if excusing some of the prevalent casual sexism at the time. To freshen the series, rather than give Julie something interesting to do, she was saddled with raising twins. In the final season, they finally caught up with the Women’s Lib movement and had her become a school secretary and occasional fill-in teacher. It was long before a female Sweathog, Angie (Melonie Haller), was added, and it was just her. The assistant principal, Michael Woodman (John Sylvester White), was perhaps the show’s most stereotypical character.

As the series progressed, Travolta became a bigger and bigger celebrity, so he wound up making just ten guest appearances in the final season. Kapler himself was periodically absent when he and actor-turned-producer James Komack feuded. The other issue is that the cast aged out of passing for high school students (an issue that plagued series such as Smallville and Glee).

The collection is presented in 1.33:1 4×3 transfers, possibly the best that can be done with video series. It’s fine as a time capsule. The Dolby Digital and English 2.0 mono soundtracks are upgrades from previous editions.

Whereas previous editions had some interesting extras like screen tests, this version has zero special features which is a shame.

Proxy Mom: My Experience with Portpartum Depression by Sophie Adriansen & Mathou

Babies are hard. I think everyone knows that intellectually, but maybe not emotionally. My own first child was a needy, demanding, unhappy baby – I don’t want to claim too much; this was a quarter-century ago, and I wasn’t the main caregiver, either – so I have some insight but nothing like expertise.

The mother in Proxy Mom: My Experience with Postpartum Depression  has a fairly typical, average baby: no more needy than most, no specific problems, nothing out of the ordinary. Just crying every hour or few hours, all day every day, needing something that’s often not clear. Just an ordinarily demanding, life-altering baby, on top of everything the pregnancy and birth already did to her body.

This graphic novel is loosely a memoir – writer Sophie Adriansen and artist Mathou both lived through versions of this story, the same year, each having a first baby with a man who already had older children. And, from the story, I guess they both had problems attaching, with feeling “motherly,” at least at first – that’s a lot more common than people realize.

A baby is a wrinkled, red-faced, crying lump, capable only of wanting things. That’s not inherently lovable. It takes a lot of hormones hitting just the right way to forge that connection, and sometimes it takes quite a while – sometimes it fizzles at first.

Sometimes, like with Marietta in this story, it’s more overwhelming and painful than wonderful and special. And the realization that life is not going to be “like before, but with a baby” but instead “completely different, in ways you didn’t expect” is frightening and unnerving: there’s now this tiny person that is utterly dependent on you for everything, needy in a way no other human being has been for you before.

This is the story of about those first six months, the toughest time, for Marietta and her husband Chuck and baby Zoe. How she was overwhelmed by the pain at first, in the hospital, after a tough labor and pain during breastfeeding. How Chuck was the experienced one – but not the one whose body was battered by the birth, and not the one there all day every day with tiny needy Zoe. How she wanted that deep connection with her baby, but it wasn’t there at first – how she found it, how she got there in the end.

There are no huge problems. This is not the kind of memoir subtitled “how I got through This Horrible Thing and it made me a better person.” Birth is natural. Babies are natural. Crying babies and post-partum pain and being overwhelmed are entirely natural. It’s huge for the woman going through it. It feels too big too handle: being responsible, every second of every day, for another person, a person who can do nothing at all for herself.

But Marietta made it through. She didn’t get back “her old life, but with a baby” – she got back a new life, with a lot of the pieces of the old one, plus a baby, transforming everything else as a baby always does. Adriansen and Mathou have lived this, and they tell that story naturalistically and realistically, always through Marietta’s viewpoint, always focused on how she feels about herself and her baby.

They tell that story in a lovely, immediate way through cartooning. Mathou’s style is warm and inviting, big eyes and rounded bodies and slightly exaggerated expressions. Adriansen keeps the captions short and focused – this is the kind of book that could have a blizzard of expert opinions footnoted on every page, but she smartly knows they’re not needed. Marietta’s situation is natural: millions of women go through it every year, and need support and love and attention to get through it.

This US edition was translated and Americanized by Montana Kane from the original French, including, I assume, some facts and figures Adriansen includes along the way. I noticed the numbers were about the USA, but nothing else about the translation, which is the best reaction to a translation: if you don’t notice it, it’s done right.

This is the kind of book that says “you’re not alone” to a huge number of women struggling with what is usually the biggest, hardest, most exhaustingly wonderful thing that they’ve ever had to deal with. It says that clearly, lovingly, from the point of view of another woman who has been through it.

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

REVIEW: La Femme Nikita

Before Buffy, there was Nikita. French filmmaker Luc Besson’s fifth film caused an international stir as he provided the world with a female protagonist with a dark edge reflecting the times. His 1990 film, La Femme Nikita, proved such a smash that it was remade in America as Point of No Return and spawned a Canadian television series (1997-2001) and Nakita, the CW series (2010-2013).

Anne Parillaud’s depiction of a woman given a second chance was mesmerizing and unforgettable, giving the movie an enduring appeal. As part of Sony Home Entertainment’s 100th-anniversary celebration, the original film is now available in an upgraded 4k UHD steel book edition.

We watch the transformation of a juvenile delinquent, guilty of killing a police officer during a robbery, taken by a secret government organization that faked her death. For three years, she is weaned off her drug addiction and trained and transformed into Nikita, a deadly operative always on call to her handlers. There are several lovely set pieces that establish just how effective their training has been. And that might have been fine for an action film, but Besson, who also wrote the screenplay, added in a psychological element that gave us something different.

Nikita, who goes by the name Marie, tries to live a normal life, even falling for Marco (Jean-Hugues Anglade), a store clerk. As he grows curious about the lack of family and friends, she convinces her handler, Bob (Tchéky Karyo), to pose as an uncle. That holds him off for now.

Things build up as Bob summons her to assassinate a target when she and Marco are together. The tension is nicely built as they talk through the bathroom door, and she manages to complete her mission, although it makes her question her life.

Later, after a botched mission, the Centre sends Victor (Jean Reno) to clean the mess, and the two get tangled up for the remainder of the story. Their escapades make Nikita question her choices, setting up a satisfying conclusion that leaves Parillaud convinced there is no need for a sequel. Filmmakers around the world have tried their own hand at adapting this story, which speaks to the strength of Besson and Parillaud’s work.

Sony has upgraded the high-definition transfer so every frame sparkles with depth and clarity, making this disc the definitive video version of the film. The French DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 is excellent, although there is no Dolby Atmos option.

Surprisingly, the release is just the 4K disc, with no special features, no Blu-ray disc, or Digital HD code. In the steel case, the film sits alone, protected in its hard shell, somewhat like Nikita herself.

Relationships According to Savage Chickens by Doug Savage

It’s not quite tripping myself up, but…I sometimes specifically pick really short books to read so that I can have something to write about here the next day. (More often when I’m doing a Book-A-Day run, but at other times, too. Like right now.) But then I usually find that the really short books don’t provide a lot of material to write about, because – and here may be the point where I’m stating the blindingly obvious – they are really short.

Now, that could be a feature: if I’m just trying to get done quickly, I read a short book, I write “hey, this book is short and is a really obvious thing” and go on with my life. But I feel like I’m short-changing you, my faithful reader.

(I address you in my head like that, when I’m feeling puckish, as if there actually is anyone who goes out of their way to read this random book-blog with no real theme and possibly the worst circa-2010 Blogger layout imaginable, in this the year of our lord twenty twenty-four. We all have our crotchets.)

Anyway, here I am again. Relationships According to Savage Chickens  is a short collection of “Savage Chickens” strips by Doug Savage, one of a clump of themed books that came out around 2012 and only available digitally. (Well: now that I look more closely, this one and Zombies  came out in ’12, and there were three more last year. That’s a good sign for the health of the ongoing Savage Chickens project, which I like to see: it’s still a funny strip, and I like to see funny things stay successful.)

When I say “short,” I mean “fifty single-page cartoons.” That would be tiny for a book with a square binding, though about twice the side of a modern comic book – so I guess it all depends on perspective.

We start and end with “Romeo and Juliet” jokes. Savage is modern and at least mildly edgy; this isn’t glurge in any way. I still like his rounded line: his chickens are just funny, with their big round eyes, their little wattles, and the way they look just a bit too big and ungainly for any possible situation.

As always, tastes in humor will vary. I think Savage is funny, and I wish he had more books that were somewhat longer (so I didn’t feel awkward trying to write about them). I hope you will have a similarly positive reaction to his work.

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

REVIEW: Glory 4K

Few military regiments are better known than the 54th Massachusetts, thanks to Ed Zwick’s brilliant 1989 film Glory. Based on the letters of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw and the books Lay This Laurel (1973) by Lincoln Kirstein and One Gallant Rush (1965) by Peter Burchard, the screenwriter Kevin Jarre humanizes the black men who volunteered to fight for the union, most of whom died in battle.

When released, the movie was revelatory, catapulting Denzel Washington to the Hollywood A list with his Academy Award-winning performance as Private Silas Trip. He was surrounded by a strong supporting cast led by Andre Braugher and Morgan Freeman. As Shaw, Matthew Broderick completed his journey from heartthrob Ferris Bueller to an accomplished adult actor. His Shaw was courageous, bucking the hierarchy to get his men shoes and refusing his pay until the Army honored its promise of equal pay to the men. But we watched him struggle to connect with his soldiers whose experiences were entirely alien to him. They slowly formed a bond that was sealed with blood and honor.

The film was a major critical success. As part of Sony Home Entertainment’s centennial celebration, Glory is being released this week in a 4K Steelbook, complete with Blu-ray and Digital HD code. It’s largely the same pressing as the 2019 Ultra High Definition released but boasts superb Dolby Vision color grading. The haze of the battlefield, the campfire scenes, and the dress parade all shine in this transfer with excellent clarity. The Dolby Vision color grading is just stunning to watch on your home screen.

The Dolby Atmos soundtrack is carried over and sounds just fine, with dialogue, sound effects, and James Horner’s somber score well presented.

This new edition offers the same UHD Special Features and the Blu-ray is exactly as the 2009 previous edition. The UHD offers up Picture in Picture Video Commentary (1080p, 2:02:14) from Zwick, Broderick, and Freeman.

The Blu-ray offers Audio Commentary: Director Edward Zwick, Virtual Civil War Battlefield, The Voices of Glory, The True Story Continues, Original Theatrical Making-Of Featurette, and Deleted Scenes With optional director’s commentary.

Disquiet by Noah Van Sciver

There are times when I don’t have much to say here. I read a book, I mostly liked it, I’ve already read a number of things by the same creator, I don’t have anything particularly new or specific to say this time.

And that sounds so horribly minimizing, doesn’t it?

But “this is good stuff, in line with the same person’s previous good stuff” is actually very positive. (Right? I think so, anyway.)

So, with that caveat: I just read Noah Van Sciver’s 2016 collection of comics short stories, Disquiet . It’s a general, miscellaneous collection – everything I’ve seen from him previously has been more focused, from the graphic novels Fante Bukowski  and Saint Cole  to the self-explanatorily themed As a Cartoonist  collection.

But this one is just some stories and art Van Sciver did, over about the previous five years, collected between two covers and assembled into a plausible order. They have different tones and styles and concerns – some modern-day, some historical, one more folkloric – and they’re separated by individual pieces of Van Sciver art, so they each sit separately, like objects on a shelf. I like that in a collection, frankly – with prose, it tends to be a thing of making sure there are blank left-hand pages where appropriate, and maybe icons or dingbats or similar decorative elements, but comics-makers are more likely to just have more art, that they did, which can help to divide stories from each other.

I guess I might as well take the stories one at a time:

“Dive Into that Black River” is a nearly wordless, two-page spread, more of a poster than a narrative comic. It’s the opposite of “hang in there, baby!” if you think of it as a poster.

“The Lizard Laughed” is the story of one day in the life of Harvey, a middle-aged man in New Mexico, whose estranged son Nathan comes to visit. They’re meeting for the first time in close to twenty years, since Harvey ran out on the family when the boy was nine. They go on a hike; the two have little in common, as you’d expect. It doesn’t end the way Nathan expected, which is good for Harvey. Harvey didn’t have any real expectations; he may be too self-centered for that anyway.

“it’s over” is a two-pager in a straightforward confessional/realistic mode, in which a young man reconnects with an old girlfriend for a one-day fling on his thirtieth birthday – which also turns out to be a major (fictional) world-historical event.

“The Death of Elijah Lovejoy” combines a two-page text introduction to the overall life of that 1830s abolitionist with a comics retelling of the mob that attacked his printing press, burning it down and killing him. (This might be the most Van Sciverian comic here, to my eye, all sweaty/bloody men fighting for their rigid views in the19th century.)

“The Cow’s Head’ is some kind of fable, I think – a young woman (who has the same name as Van Sciver’s then-girlfriend, who also wrote the book’s introduction – possibly coincidence but I doubt it) is driven out of their rural hovel by her cruel stepmother, finds shelter, and is polite to a flying, talking head of a cow. (As you do, in fables.) This, as also happens in fables, leads to better things for her, though not for her sad-sack father.

“Down in a Hole” is a weird one, in which a former TV kid-show clown goes spelunking and is captured by the secret subterranean race of mole people. Both of those random elements are equally important, and then there’s a twist ending. There’s a lot going on here, and I bet there’s some subtext or purpose I just didn’t get.

“Untitled” is told in small-format pages – maybe it was a minicomic? – and focuses on a young woman, visiting her parents for Christmas. She lives nearby – close enough to bicycle – but rarely visits. It’s a slice-of-life mood piece, so I won’t try to explain the moods.

“Dress Up” is the doubly-narrated story of a good Samaritan/vigilante who foiled a robbery, as told by him to a young female reporter a little later, after the initial media furor has quieted a bit.

“When You Disappear” tells the story of a prison break, two men fleeing to New Jersey, there talking and separating. It’s based on a dream, but is less “dream-logic-y” than that might imply.

“Punks Vs. Lizards” is a pulpy post-apocalyptic story about, yes, punks who battle giant  intelligent lizards that have apparently conquered the world. Our Hero defeats one particularly powerful lizard at great cost.

And last is “Nightshift,” in which yet another young woman tells how she worked at a bakery overnights for a while, saving up money to get out of this unnamed town.

I found all of the stories interesting, and many of them compelling. They were aiming to do different things, and all were good at what they aimed to do (assuming I was correct). This is a probably a better introduction to Van Sciver than the two or three books of his I actually read first, if anyone thinks his work sounds interesting.

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

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