Waydown #20.12.25

This should have gone out months ago, since there was no reason it shouldn't have (though the pandemic wasn't going away), and now it looks like I was getting it out just to end the year with it, but it's really only coincidence that I had the schedule line up to get the last of it done around the holidays. Yay me.

I don't care for doing themes (remember the zines we did that we wrote from the future? One of the best ones I ever did. I don't think anyone read it), but it seems appropriate to recognize the Covid crisis of 2020, since March (and counting). Assuming we weren't sick or working, it was a great time to write more zines, and I got one out, though that was mostly just polishing off what was mostly done from before the pandemic started. So this one has that theme expressly, even if it's not readily apparent. Most of the reviews were written well before the crisis started (most on the comics from two summers ago or so) but there are some concessions to the rest of it. This could have been a theme for everyone else's zines, maybe becoming minimal since it's an issue that would come up in some form anyway, but I can call it out for mine. It's been a time of a lot of writing and reading (well, really, about the same for me, but my life's routine melded pretty easily to staying inside a lot). So this is churning out another one of these, and some stuff happened in the world, and here's some more writing.

And I've been posting more of my book & comic reviews on Goodreads (since anything with a purpose can be repurposed).


REVIEWS

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (audiobook). Yet another classic I’m just catching up to now (though I never had to write/fake a paper on it in school). I’d heard about it for years, of course, and always wondered how a sci-fi book could be considered a classic, albeit a modern one. Though the only qualification for science-fiction in this one is that it takes place in the future, enough to separate its alternate reality from our own, and give its acquired reality its own credibility to make its point. This was the future as seen from a view before cyberpunk and more earthly sci-fi speculation, and it surprisingly gets more right in its predictions than it gets embarrassed from being off the mark. But it’s not trying to be a sci-fi book; it’s a story that happens to be in a future world. It’s smart enough to make a salient point about censorship, though giving some shades to not just come off as a sermon. Though Bradbury using the story to show the media’s increasing disinterest in books in a book is a meta-critique, but not one really supporting itself. Still, pretty clever (though it was most of the only accessible options to get an opinion/story out at the time). And plenty of suspense and intrigue to make it more colorful than being shelved among stodgy classics. It’s a shame they haven’t turned it into a solid movie yet*, but since it has a theme that never seems to go away, and without a specific year it needs to be in, they’ve got time for it to fall into the hands of someone who has loved the story as much as they have the talent to make it come alive. (* Unless there is, and it probably wasn't hard to make, but it was probably also not hard for it to be uninspiring unlike the book and so it didn't really much get out to us.) 

Getting it on audiobook was an easy sell, and Tim Robbins narrating it was a splendid bonus. He’s already a great actor, which is no guarantee for translating those talents into being a great voice-actor, but he’s got that too. He’s even able to infuse it with some kind of passion, like this is a personal project to give back to a work that meant a lot to him, or at least make it seem like it is because he’s that good. Actors doing different voices for the characters is usually grating, but Robbins pulls that off too, giving them each their own personality without embarrassing himself. The book is a great work, but the audiobook stands as a great one on its own as well (and also concise enough for me to experience it in about one weekend at work).

Dancing with Myself by Billy Idol. Everyone else who has ever had any kind of popularity has written an auto-bio, Billy Idol might as well. Though not every rock star lived (or could live) as large as he did, everyone can finally see if the fantasy of what his life seemed like is what it really was. And yeah, apparently it really was. But that’s also him telling it. There’s the typical backstory of his early days, and ones that go on a little too long. Sure, we get his early years, but most of that can be summed up that he was a generic, British, trouble-maker kid. From there he does his best to ingratiate himself into the early days of London punk, name-dropping hard wherever possible (especially Siouxsie Sioux, though that star is a bit dimmer these days. But where’s her book?). It’s a lot to swallow, especially when he was only interested in making his name back then (and now), but if even a little bit of it can be believed, it’s impressive enough. From there it’s just a lot of anecdotes, as most of these go, with the theme of justifying the manufacture of his image (or playing for cred showing that it wasn't), and particular detail to the creation and importance of “Dancing with Myself” (but not “Eyes without a Face,” which seemed like the hit that broke him, at least when I was a kid in the Mid-West). The stories are short and skip details, like referring to whatever drugs he was taking as, generically, “drugs.” It was surely pretty wild back then but to hear it told now after all the rock-star stories it’s pretty mild. The largeness of that life can rarely ever translate, especially when written by someone who never thought he would ever write a book (or the ghost-writer who never thought they’d be writing with/about Billy Idol). The fantasy is what is important here, and there haven’t been many bigger rock stars than Idol -- he’ll even tell you. He had the look when the look was the peak of importance, on MTV, and he had a string of a few pretty good years, most of which he can’t transcribe for the drug-induced amnesia. He breezes over the stuff at the peaks, but, maddeningly, it’s what most of these do, along with the cliche of how troubled he was at the time and how hard that was a time for him personally, despite what we saw on the TV. A lot of it centers around his motorcycle crash, as the foreshadowing of it then the consequences of it wind through the fabric of the work from the beginning. Surely that was an important event, and it’s a slight swerve since the life-threatening elements these rock stars write about in their books usually comes from the drugs themselves, but if that really was his end there, the book up to that chapter would have been the same (though never having gotten the book deal to see it published); it's more important to him than it was to the fans, but motorcycle crashes tend to be the turning point in a number of rock stars' lives (and often when they start sobering up and get boring). He actually gives more room in the book to the motorcycle crash than the birth or life of his daughter, who is mostly only mentioned in the photos. The wonky pacing is only evident when there’s still a chunk of the book left after the crash, more than the few, minor hits he had after that afford. He spends far too long trying to justify his universally-panned Cyberpunk album, and he doesn’t really have much more to say (and neither do the drugs). He might have been able to use the space to explain how he’s still able to put on pretty great live shows these days, but the world has the book now and doesn’t need much more. Keith Richards wrote a far better book explaining the life of a rock star, though there’s a singularity in getting one from Billy Idol who, from as far as we saw in anywhere that wasn’t N.Y.C. or L.A., was as big a rock star as there was at the time. The real story is surely darker and less glamorous and more herpes-ridden, but this glitzy tome serves the legend. We get the rock star’s story from the rock star himself, as iffy in its reliability as that could be, which will have to tie us over until we get the real book on the subject from Jagger or Axl.

This is one of the rare books I read in print, which I started assuming it wouldn’t go to audiobook, then when I was grinding through the last few chapters, after being on it for more than a year and a half, and with a weekend at work and checking out OverDrive (yes, you should), there it was. Even better than just existing but it’s also got the cache of being read by the author/star himself (which shouldn’t have to seen like such a feat. It’s his book and he surely has the time. Surely Richards isn’t the only one who could get out of reading his own thing (and even he still read a chapter)). Idol has the rough voice you’d expect, particularly worn now, but I valued the feature on OverDrive to speed it up, which I normally would have railed against because it affects the integrity of the intention of the work, but it fixed a lot of Idol’s slurring and slowness of speech, which would have been excruciating at standard speed. Idol’s reading even adds an element of authenticity to it, and he doesn’t even sound bored with having to do it (helped by how he probably wasn’t responsible for every word anyway, so some of it was new to him). But it wouldn’t have made sense to get anyone else to read it anyway. As so much of his brand was planned, they surely made time in his schedule to get him to do it. Hopefully it took him away from creating another travesty like Cyberpunk.

Brown’s Requiem by James Ellroy (audiobook). I’ve had an Ellroy book on the shelf since I got done with the L.A.P.D. Quartet series, even after I got done with him with American Tabloid, and that book was Clandestine, which was recommended as the best of Ellroy’s stuff by James Robinson, who was the first suggestion I ever had to check out Ellroy's stuff for crime fiction, but that one wasn't available  Overdrive app for free audiobooks through the library (again: get on it). So I settled for Ellroy’s first published work, taking it as just another of his books. But it stands up. It was before he acquired his style of over-caffeinated word-salads that marked and sometimes marred his work before long, even risking the sacrifice of being bland enough to approach the paths of the classic crime-fiction writers that had already been there. There’s just enough edge to show the promise of something more exciting in store if Ellroy could get another chance, and apparently he won with Clandestine, establishing him as one of the prominent American crime-fiction writers of the last few decades. Though this one is a little too near the middle of the road, it’s a good start, and maybe strong enough to get me interested in the books of his I’ve missed, maybe revisit a few I didn’t really get at the time, and risk a wild ride in his newer stuff (assuming I can get all this stuff on audiobook, maybe making it a little faster and easier to stomach). And I had the movie but knew I wasn't going to get around to it so I sent it back. I had to dig for it so it's probably not worth much anyway (even when it was only to ride in the wake of L.A. Confidential), but you know I'm a completist (and hoping for some gold from the stuff collecting dust on the shelf).

Wolverine: Old Man Logan; Wolverine: Kill Island (Marvel). It's almost baffling to think that Mark Millar used to do so many projects for Marvel, and that some of them were pretty good. He has always snapped up all the best artists available, something he's capitalized on to an astonishing degree on his own post-Marvel, but he certainly took the best artists he could get there back then too. That's assuming he got the big project, into which he would always ingratiate himself, whether he needed to or not (another thing that has benefited him later on), and hopefully not leading with the artist. But after the hit that was Civil War (on being a big event or a worthy piece of work, it doesn't matter), Marvel was certainly slavering to get those two together, if it would get any work out of the team, which means both of them. McNiven did well enough on that series, for as long as it took him and for the scheduling nightmares to get it done, so they had their choice of what to do next (and for McNiven to have some lead-time). They might as well do a Wolverine thing, even if it's going going to print money anyway, but they could do whatever they want, so they might as well do a thing taking place in another world, and being an arc in the ongoing series is as good as being anywhere since it's going to be about the trade anyway.

I'm not a big fan of alternate-reality stories. I remember the arc early on in New Warriors where it shifted to a team in some other reality, with no explanation, and while that was an okay story, most of it was based off alternate versions of the characters, and that minor thrill is far too easy to transplant somewhere else. It was just coming up with new versions of characters, since apparently there wasn't access to superhero role-playing games which can reward those creations better than enshrining half-baked concepts into canon. Of course it was an obvious, shallow thing, and it could go to all comics worlds, and it was cheap and easy, if being hollow artistically and a betrayal of the continuity that fanboys hold so dear, and once it started it wasn't going to end, and it still hasn't. It's simple to launch a new version of a character we know, even if they keep little from the original, until it's unrecognizable and the vaunted multiverse is clogged with bizarro copies-of-copies of anyone that's ever been created. As stand-alone stories these could be tolerated since they would be disposable at worst, but far too often they're pulled into continuity, becoming contrivance to forgive bad ideas gone even more wrong, or undoing the work of previous creative teams, or stunts as bad as gimmick covers. It's in the same neighborhood as time-travel stories, which also earn my derision, but they do well enough that anyone keeps pooping them out. And Mark Millar is certainly not immune to bankrupt ideas. And so comes the concept of Old Man Logan, plopping right down in a standard, dystopian future and all the stale ideas we've seen before. It approaches it like it's a new concept, even though it couldn't be farther from that truth, and grinds out a scant few decent ideas that it hangs perilously from. It might not be a such an ill-advised world, if they're indeed creating a new one (or one that they wouldn't give up on since it's Wolverine), but its length of visit works against it. At six issues it's just a glimpse, and there aren't enough ideas to make it ever feel organic. It's old Wolverine and old Hawkeye on some adventures on the way to a climax swift enough for McNiven's deadline, that comes and goes too quick to make an impact. The execution isn't so bad, we've just seen it before and it doesn't offer anything that doesn't disappear after finishing another medium-sized trade. McNiven at least does some solid work, finally getting back to using an inker, and distracting him from a turd like Nemesis, perhaps Millar's worst mark (but I stopped when it started getting bad). The story ends up being a bunch of tableaus for McNiven art, with the story being just a guide for him to do a lot of wide-page spreads, which Millar won’t shy away from but at least he knows his artists (and less "story" to force on us). If it takes that much effort to get McNiven to turn in a story then they might as well go as wide as they can, though it would be nice to see him just do a story with a few strategic bunts and gracious misses thrown in instead of swinging for the fences every single time. A solid artist can be hampered by too much ambition and expectation, when they might do better turning down the volume and just following along on the story (though ideally with a more humble writer). And maybe without the most obvious character of Wolverine. From here they voided the ballyhooed death of Wolverine, which we knew wasn’t going to be true anyway, and they can’t say they followed through on their word on not bringing him back when they just replaced him with another version, which would be just the same, then brought him back anyway. There are plenty of Wolverine stories in the archive, and there are better than this. Everyone eventually gets to put their mark on Wolverine, and Millar got to do it a few times, but it’s a shame that this is as far as McNiven would get to go with it (and not even with the real one).

Kill Island does much better, knowing to stay in its lane, and knowing where that lane is. It's pure entertainment, from someone who doesn't need to write comics but can put something fun together and roll with his instincts. The story is, at best, piffle, but it leaves Cho to do what he does best, which is draw buxom women, or at least one (which is all you need). And once he has her in there (not mattering who she is, as long as she’s scantily-clad), as per his contract, he can do whatever else he likes, which is drawing a lot of Wolverine and dinosaurs. (Wolverine may be overdone a number of times by this point but you can’t deny that, even with all the story possibilities, he’s fun to draw. He’s nowhere near my list of favorite characters but he’s the superhero I’ve probably drawn the most for as long as I’ve been drawing in my life.) Every page is a class on story-telling, especially in working on an inconsequential story, and it doesn’t even matter where it winds up, just that you get a lot of Cho pages, and that it ends up just being a lot of fun, showing how comics can do better when not trying to be so serious and poignant, and trading scattered, middling ideas for sturdy execution.

Locas: The Maggie and Hopey Stories (Love & Rockets) (Fantagraphics). I’ll just come right out with it: before this I never read Love & Rockets. Of course I’d heard about what a legend the series was, and the creators as literary and artistic giants, but it was out of my orbit, especially since it wasn’t superheroes (or at least the traditional ones). I’d actually hobbled together a collection of collected editions, random copies from different print runs, whatever I’d found, not knowing how much of a fraction the stack has made or if there’s a consistent narrative to actually read since I never cracked the covers (before getting rid of them, knowing I wouldn't ever dive into such a mish-mash of a collection, but knowing I could have access to collected editions like this one. But it was easy to be drawn into such a handsome, massive hardcover, all 712 pages and relatively-painless price-tag (maybe nearing $100; maybe not a gift). Possibly to try out the series, even if these stories are taken out of the continuity and might read better as part of the greater narrative. If it was going to take me that long to getting around to reading the complete thing, this was my sampler, even if there was enough to make a few meals then plenty of leftovers. Then somehow it ended up on my bookshelf, which could be assumed as a fast-track, even if it wasn't just the best-looking book on that shelf, which it was. So after the last excruciating Marvel Essentials volume, while still trying to slow down the volume of books I was going through until I wrote more about what I’d read, I dove into this one. Years ago, my roommate at the time, clearly knowing more about the Hernandez brothers than I did, got the Penny Century mini-series, so that could be considered my proper if unofficial introduction. It was a good story, if a minor one-off compared to the greater L&R mythos, but from just one image by the incomparable Jaime, from a shorter work or this, even better when featuring his two greatest creations, Maggie & Hopey, is enough to get hooked. He’s more of a conventional cartoonist in the classic tradition, though more ably responsible for a more sustained narrative than set-up in the first panel then the punchline in the third. It’s a challenge to the usual format, which nonetheless got their work thrown in with the superhero stuff because it was all comics. Though the Bros. were as far from superhero stuff as a novelist or landscape painter, the quality of their work also got it its acclaim. They never got recruited to do a Batman or Spider-Man story (or at least never bothered to take up on the offer on them). They’ve been in their own barrio world, doing brilliant work. Gilbert’s work I couldn’t connect to as well, but this volume is all Jaime, spanning over a number of years, with no indication how it fits into the rest of L&R, but also being outside of the confines of some other continuity, since it doesn’t matter. For all we know, this is the whole story. The work is sparse, without even one extra line. (Though I would argue that the first story, almost on its own island, is actually richer than the later stuff, even if its busy-ness threatens to trip it up at times.) But that he can pack so much story and emotion into the minimal amount of line-work is astounding, possibly bowing to no greater master. The kinds of nuances he effortlessly fits into his work are lost anywhere else when most any other artist is plopping art on to a page, certainly within comics. It doesn’t even lose anything for being black & white, as the lack of vibrancy in color is its visual language and would probably be just an extra element it doesn’t need. The stories are occasionally obtuse and don’t always land, at least on the surface, but they work on a deeper level, without the easy answers that shallow storytelling usually drives toward because it's easier and there's no expectation for it. But the story comes from the images which come from the characters, a comforting if challenging circle for spending time in such a vibrant world. I’m embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to be indoctrinated into that world, even if I couldn't articulate the levels it would work on for me beyond the mechanics of the line art, but maybe it wasn’t ready to come into my life before, and maybe it’s not supposed to be able to be summed up easily and succinctly. To spread the word of its treasures I would be tempted to loan it out, but to send it would probably cost as much as driving it over there. It looks too good on the shelf anyway (as well as weighing the bookcase down so it won’t move).

G.I. Joe: Hearts & Minds (IDW). G.I.Joe is a comic I wish I could follow. I loved it as a kid, even besides my uncle’s love for it, and I love those characters, even more than from the cartoon since they could go a lot farther in the comic. It didn’t have the stability of other comic heroes -- they would probably be the same wherever you checked in on them, since it was the ongoing story if not lives of a huge range of great non-superhero characters. It’s impressive that Hama created all of them (according to The Toys That Made Us) and wrote hundreds of the original issues then kept it going on his own (as far as the writing goes), but it’s that same legendary tapestry that I'd love to become a part of that keeps me from getting back to it. I only read most of the first 50 original issues or so, and to get back in to it would be a lot to carry on from there. (Though it could be enough to just go back and read those original issues.) To say nothing of the various reboots and retries, with the Devil’s Due version that almost stopped me so cold that I wouldn't have bothered with any of it or anything after. There are surely other short stories with the characters but it’s the continuity that gets me most and that’s a mountain too high for me to climb (at least if I want to engage with anything else in my life). It’s my hope that I can snag a sampler and a comparatively minuscule taste will be enough. It’s not even completely a nostalgia thing -- those were just some good comics. But I can’t know how they’ve done in the continuations, and if those who love the comic do out of the connection to their childhoods or because it’s so amazing that Hama is still writing it, if not just a good comic. IDW isn’t an automatic stamp of quality and that block of comics is a commitment. But a modest collection could do the trick, along with Max Brooks (World War Z) writing, the easy access of an anthology, and various artists make it a reasonable impulse buy (especially at half-off). But good intentions can’t save a bad book. It’s six stories, equally about the Joes and Cobra, giving a grounded look at individual soldiers and the range of their travails. The subject matter is broad, but all serious. A half-dozen short stories with no greater ambition probably than Brooks putting his name on something coming from when he was a kid, and getting his foot into comics. He’s otherwise a solid writer, helped from getting a start outside of comics, but this never gets off the ground it strives to come from. It’s left open for an artist to bring some electricity to it, and with two people on it there should be opportunity. Anthologies can be great showcases for creators, and the premise of this one, with unconnected, individual stories, could have been a great way for a handful of artists to shine. But they go straight for the bunt by limiting it with exactly two artists. The intention of illustrating the range of stories with a range of artists is squandered, as if they had the idea but then coordinating more than a pair of creators was too much to handle, if the pay-off could be expected to be the same. Getting a comics legend doesn’t make up for it, since this came in a period when Howard Chaykin was drawing anything for anybody, as if he was making one last stab at doing something significant in modern comics and was casting about for anything that might stick. It’s the same bland art that he does when he’s not engaged by his own writing (with still no guarantee it will come alive), but at least he doesn’t have to go back to his familiar fetish of close-ups of black lace. The other artist is a new guy, who at least makes an effort, but the pictures themselves are bland, at most serviceable to the story, with no particular talent to bring out anything else from an inert story. It’s a dud of a project, especially when anthologies are so rare and a green-lit one misses its chance. It’s always baffled me why anthologies don’t do better, but this one did not help the designation. Whether it’s connected to the main Joe title doesn’t have to be important, except that it could only have been better with Hama doing it, and proves that I really don’t need to go to IDW G.I.Joe stuff unless I’m going to make the commitment to the main series (which is doubtful, since I have many more Daredevil and Suicide Squad issues to devote myself to, if I were going to). Hardcovers are usually reserved for special projects, and this one is a handsome book, but the format should be used for something more deserving of it.

Essential Captain America, Vol. 1 (Marvel). I borrowed a few of these Essentials volumes from Griesbach some time ago, long enough that I don't remember the rhyme or reason for what I took. The Avengers volumes of course because they're (supposed to be) awesome but the Marvel Team-Up seemed like a random choice, and the Captain America one might have been the reason I borrowed any of them. There was a time when these books seemed so valuable, to have that many stories in one collection. Sacrificing color seemed like a fair trade. But now it seems so antiquated, and that we'd be okay with paying more (sometimes twice as much) to get color is acceptable. Now these old books seem like too-cheap copies before getting color collections elsewhere (and letting Marvel take us once again for paying multiple times for the same material). There are some of the books in which it might be nice to see the work in black & white, in particular Windsor-Smith's Conan, but with most there's something missing without the essential element of color, and that is no more evident than with Kirby's work. Though these Captain America stories were not the height of Kirby's work at any time, he was doing enough work back then to get lost in what he was giving his best energies to. He and Stan were pushing out these stories just to get them done, and they largely read like inventory stories. Dividing the Tales of Suspense issues with Iron Man, they were just two back-ups for the price of one issue, and it's clear they were slotting in stories when they could. There is little continuity, bouncing back and forth between Cap's time in the service, then with the Avengers, then solo, but back then the issues could be separate, with no one suspecting that they would one day be reading them as a group, one after the other, and not just issue by issue and disposed of after and without a regard to the next one. It's not Kirby's best work, but it's hard to figure what was, out of the mass he was churning out regularly, though that risks giving him credit only for quantity over quality. It's still Kirby. There's an energy in every panel but these don't often explode off the pages. Assume this was the time when he was deep in the machine, following through on inspiration instead of creating a dynamic new world with every story. A later three-parter works much better for being a sustained story, though it's just stretching out a unextraordinary story then letting it coast while they probably shifted more effort to the other deadlines. It's also most of the way through the run that Lee figures out the connected stories work better, then it switches to become the proper Cap comic (with #100, which was probably just as confusing back then but also didn't much matter for the newsstand). He also gets a different inker in most of the stories, surely a means to get the stories done as quickly as possible, though Sinnot did most of them, with a hand heavy enough to have to figure out any nuance underneath. The issues by other artists are a charge, as if Kirby needed anyone to help get the issues out (though he deserved a break), but it works for the stories to be self-contained when the artist doesn't have to figure out a flow for a continuing narrative since they're moving on shortly. The one ongoing thread is a girl that Cap meets in the war then pines over for forever more, never getting her name but repeatedly running into her even when he doesn't know it's her. It's a minor detail, a grab at a thread that doesn't need to keep going (even if Cap deserves his own love story), then it's disregarded, too minor to footnote in the first place. It's telling that it's some history that never gets remembered. It's a lot of insignificant stories that don't stick, except for being a Lee & Kirby collaboration somewhere near their glory days. Cap didn't really establish a name until his series started officially, with full-issue stories deserving of him and his world, so these are at best a stop-gap to put out a few low-effort stories to keep him around,  giving him a little more time than he got in the infrequent Avengers title, before he was given a chance to prove himself in his own full-issue title (which worked so well it's almost embarrassing that anyone thought it wouldn't). As corporate product that we can look at fondly now it's fine, even when we're reminded how disposable it was by being made as cheaply as possible. Better reproduction might be dolling up work that wasn't intended for it, but this is sub-par even to the originals. There are superior versions that at least sell it like it's significant work (as art more than product). Better to look at anything in color if there's want for getting the best out of them.

Union Jack (1998) (Marvel). It’s a shame this was such an unnecessary series, since it could have been a relaunch for a great, mildly obscure character. That might have even been its intention, if it had been a hit, and probably a passion-project for Cassaday but something that wouldn’t have been able to keep going in the lesser hands it would have been passed off to if this had gone anywhere. Whether Cassaday wanted to keep it going, having some involvement with what might have happened after, or if he just wanted to put his mark on a character by doing a quick project, it’s a display of his work and the genius that would come in the near future, since he was able to do this just before he went big with Planetary and other projects that would make his name. This could have been Marvel trying to cement a future talent in place or maybe they actually meant to do something with the character, but they haven’t done much of anything else with him ever since this, over 20 years later. Though it also lets this stand on its own, as something like a neophyte Batman with a British flavor, and Cassaday’s work not quite in full bloom, but a historical document for an artist on a stellar trajectory.

Infinite Crisis (DC). Yet another Crisis, as if DC could do a big event story - - since they have to have a compulsion to live on event stories - - without having "Crisis^TM" in the title, as if to state its importance as boldly as possible. Of course that means that any of them will be compared to the original ...On Infinite Earths, for the story or its consequences, and nothing will ever compare, a fact so obvious that it's almost embarrassing to even try. But something like that will make more money than regular issues so they'll suppress artistic dignity to churn out yet another big thing. But if they don't get credit for getting out a proper sequel to the original Crisis (my beloved Legends being that original intention before it became a much different, and probably much better, thing along the way), at least it took them this long to come around to finally doing it (or getting an edict from the higher-ups to turn over some sales and this was the lowest-hanging fruit. Of course Didio was involved). Getting four completely-different universe-shaking (so they say) events to lead into it, along with whatever was happening in regular issues, is a base grab at a reason for existing, since they're not fixing something in the continuity, even more impressive since those events are so disparate thematically and narratively, and the fact that they don't fit together, only contributed to an anarchic nature that is one of the few charges the whole thing gets. It's picking up the pieces of the first Crisis - - pieces that didn't need to be revisited but there's never anything that is let lie permanently in modern comics - - and it resolves some threads, as well as reestablishes the Multiverse (my biggest irk in comics, second only to cheap deaths & inevitable resurrections). it's a lot of segments shoved into a thing that should have been longer, just to get a breath if nothing else, and forcing Jiminez to cram more work into his drawing than he needs to, as well as necessitating enough fill-in artists that it feels even more like a deliberate, manufactured work (and including Perez, shortening that distance between the original work, less as a homage than a sign of how far we haven't come (to say nothing of Perez not having evolved far enough to have something better to do)). It's a big, ugly mish-mash, with its funnest elements early on, like Crisis #12 stretched out into its own mini-series, until it gets to be a big fight scene with so many characters stuffed into every panel that it all becomes mush. Then some kind of resolution that might have been the state of the DC Universe for a little while, maybe a year, until the ongoing titles coming from it got canceled and the next big event story changed all that again, and it would have to have "crisis" in the title. (And very unfortunately, that was Final Crisis, and without the hope that it would tie off this series of final words on how the DCU works.) Zero Crisis being one that also had the mission statement of fixing what was wrong in the universe, which was more successful at it (even if its changes were undone even more quickly) but also when it became a painful cliché. As it is, Infinite Crisis, despite quietly blending in along the continuity timeline, actually works well enough as a big event, if that is measured in the amount of characters and their big adventures and a lack of need for any consequences. There’s also a nice interview with the principal creators in the back, and while there are plenty of those that are accessible if this isn’t the definitive one, it’s a nice bit of bonus material that doesn’t show up in collections much, in favor of showing all the needless variant covers and variations they feel they have to include to complete the print signature.

Quick Bites:
A theme in reading for the early days (weeks, months...) of the quarantine being books by friends that I can finally get to. There's no need to be too critical about them, is there?
* Valentine: Reloaded. Female assassins in black & white never gets old for me.
* Shadows of the West. The Old West! Sinister monsters! Nefarious deeds! An updated Lone Ranger! Really good inking!
* Aloha, Hawaiian Dick. If nothing else, Clay has a talent for finding good artists to do his stories. If Griffin wasn’t going to do it, the guy on this book is a worthy replacement.
* Kid Nefarious. There’s far too much stuff on Kickstarter to give to but I can help out friends. Even better when a hand-made book isn’t littered with misspellings and bad English.
* Kafka. Steve Seagle’s first book, in a really nice trade paperback (and closer to the size of a paperback, even better). Every trade should have an interview with the creators at the end. And notes that the artwork was originally a rush job, but it adds some realistic roughness and energy to the story.
* Bad Karma. Clay & Jeremy (& co.)’s Kickstarter book has some fun stuff in it. It’s like a sketch-comedy show with a loose theme, but made up of pretty good stories. I’d like to see some of these characters continue. And it’s a great-looking, well-constructed book. I don’t do a lot on Kickstarter but I was proud to support such a cool project. (Also got some coasters from it that I use now.)
* Sullivan’s Sluggers. James Stokoe does some of the most explosive, dynamic art in comics, with some dynamic anime styles mixed in subtle, in a hardcover edition as well-put-together as the story.
* Zowie: Deux. A book so indie that you can’t get it because it never had an ISDN. But everyone ought to be so lucky as to have friends who can put out a fun, great-looking anthology book (and if they don’t, your friends ought to).
* Gladstone's School For World Conquerors. Mark's stuff is usually a good pitch for an animated movie or video game, but he puts together a good story. This didn't even have to slow down for a replacement artist.

Things I Really Like That Are (Almost) Exactly The Same As Other Things I Don't Like At All:
* I love cupcakes... I don't like cake.
* I love guacamole… I don’t like avocados.
* I love the Pixies.... I don't like Frank Black.
* I love short-sleeved T-shirts... I don't like long-sleeved T-shirts.
* I love nacho cheese, I love salsa… I hate queso.

Songs That Won't Leave My Head For The Last Nine Months (and Counting):
"Lessons In Love"- Level 42.
"Future Starts Slow"- the Kills.
"Gold Lion"- Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
"Pushin' Forward Back"- Temple of the Dog
"Sunshine Of Your Love" (instrumental a capella version)- John Bender in The Breakfast Club.

Top Cure Tracks:
20. "Six Different Ways"
19. "One Hundred Years"
18. "Maybe Someday"
17. "Close"
16. "Halo"
15. "Fascination Street"
14. "The Snakepit"
13. "10:15 Saturday Night"
12. "Close To Me"
11. "Charlotte Sometimes"
10. "The 13th"
9. "Hot Hot Hot!"
8. "Trust"
7. "Open"
6. "Why Can’t I Be You?"
5. "Want"
4. "Burn"
3. "From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea"
2. "A Night Like This"
1. "Disintegration"


RAVES

Things that have become (or become again) exceptionally and sometimes surprisingly useful in quarantine:
* An old pair of trainers that I hadn't worn in years then suddenly was wearing nearly every day since there wasn't reason to wear out newer footwear.
* Work-out shirts, to the exclusion of the T-shirts and button-ups that I normally wore and now only very infrequently do.
* My at-home glasses. Again, pretty much using the same thing, day-in, day-out (whatever day it is).
* Butter. I've stopped being so concerned about it. It's made cooking better.
* Plums. I've eaten only once before in my life, then suddenly find I love them. (This also has to do with discovering the local farmer's market but even the cheapie ones can be good.)
* An alarm. No, not really. You know me. Though it's helped to have some kind of schedule (which is mostly just being ready to go for a walk with the missus an hour before dusk). Update: Actually, I did start using an alarm to get up for class, on Mondays & Wednesdays, when I would get only a few hours of sleep at night then catch up on the other nights, then on Fridays get even less sleep so I could go to bed earlier and get on a weekend schedule closer to Sweetie's. It actually worked pretty well. The trick is knowing which tasks to do when you're not in the condition to do anything else harder (or vice-versa). Maybe I'll write a book.
* Carole King's Tapestry. How have I missed this all my life? I know every song -- just like you -- but this takes it back to the originals. And they're revealed as brilliant music that might even sound better in their decades-later discovery. See also: Blue Lines, Massive Attack; The Best of Donna Summer.

Tartar sauce. I could eat fish just to be put tartar sauce on it. Mix some mayonnaise with some pickle relish, then sprinkle on some dill (eyeball it, though you'll usually want less), and voila -- better than the stuff from the store, and ready for your fish. But keep it to fish, since you want to make that night special and it'd be too easy to go crazy putting this stuff on everything.

Leftovers. There can be an art to doing something with the extras from dinners. We have a lot of rice (making our rice-cooker one of our most valuable appliances) so it's easy: Fry up whatever rice or quinoa or cous cous you have in some olive oil in a pan, throw in whatever vegetables and meat (cut up in bite-size pieces) you have, then clear a bit of the pan to crack an egg or two in there and leave for a few minutes (so it's well-done), and mix it together, with a bit of soy sauce (not too much) and any dark Asian sauces you have around (we got some hoisin sauce from the 99 Cents Store; this kind of Asian cooking usually works better with sauces than spices) -- and you have a new meal from what you were going to throw out. Even better, it extends its shelf-life for longer and makes a great lunch, and as either an entree or a side.


I've written well ahead, and at one point was even caught up on everything I'd read that I wanted to write about, and I've got another couple zines (from about 39 more reviews ready to edit and go (and 21 more to write when I get to them (and whatever else I read (and counting))) that will be ready to roll with some edits and whatever else I find to throw in. I didn't think it would be much effort to put out another zine soon after the last one, when sticking to our old two-month deadline as a goal, but maybe there hasn't been a point of rushing things, and it can be nice to have something on the backburner (though I have a gigantic stove). And the next one will even have another theme, of the books I read in the two English classes I took my first semester back to school. Hopefully there won't be another theme of more lock-down writing and we'll done with all this Covid quarantining craziness. But I'll be writing and probably reading either way.