2006

There were 210 posts published in 2006 (this is page 12 of 21).

Graphic Novels for People Who Hate Comics

Note: I’ve cross-posted this to Four Color Comics, my comics blog.

Kristi asked yesterday about good graphic novels for book groups. In response, here’s a list of comics that I think nearly any adult would find entertaining and interesting. Note the absence of superheroes.

The Complete Maus: A Survivor’s Tale by Art Spiegelman
The most important graphic novel yet published. Maus recounts the experiences of Spiegleman’s father as a Polish Jew during the Holocaust. It won a special Pulitzer Prize in 1992. Outstanding. A+ $22.05 from Amazon.
La Perdida by Jessica Abel
La Perdida tells the story of Carla, an aimless young American woman living in Mexico City. The ending is a little Hollywood, but overall, this is a great read. B+ $12.97 from Amazon.
Blankets or Good-Bye, Chucky Rice by Craig Thompson
Thompson is a Portland-area creator. Blankets is considered his best work to date, and it’s fine in a Tori Amos sort of way, but feels a little sophomoric at times. I prefer the more imaginative Good-Bye, Chunky Rice. Blankets: B $18.87 from Amazon. Good-Bye, Chunky rice: B+ $9.97 from Amazon.
Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
Persepolis is the autobiography of a woman who grew up in Iran during the reign of the Shah, and during the Islamic Revolution. This book has been compared (favorably) to Maus, and while it’s not quite up to that standard, it’s excellent nonetheless. Highly recommended. A- $11.67 from Amazon.
Black Hole by Charles Burns
One of the next books on my “to-read” shelf. This highly-acclaimed graphic novel is another portrait of adolescence. It combines a sexually-transmitted plague with a series of murders. Highly-regarded. Inc. $15.72 from Amazon.
Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid in the World by Chris Ware
The story of a sad family full of sad men. I collected this in comic book form during the mid-nineties — I bought the first issue on the day my father died — but haven’t read it since. Ware is the darling of the intelligentsia.B $22.05 from Amazon.
Torso by Brian Michael Bendis
Remember Eliot Ness of Untouchables fame? After he stood up to Al Capone in Chicago, he moved to Cleveland. This true-crime graphic novel tells of his other big case, the one that ruined him: a series of gruesome killings. A- out-of-print, but available used at $12.95 from Amazon.
Age of Bronze: A Thousand Ships and Age of Bronze: Sacrifice by Eric Shanower
Over the course of a planned seven volumes, Shanower is writing and drawing the history of the Trojan War using primary sources as reference. He’s dispensed with the gods and goddesses, but not their roles. When drawing the books, he relies on archaeological evidence to get the costumes, structures, and objects correct. This is great stuff. Age of Bronze: A Thousand Ships: A $13.57 from Amazon. Age of Bronze: Sacrifice: Inc. $12.97 from Amazon.
Ghost World by Daniel Clowes
Some of you have probably seen the film adaptation of this book. The graphic novel on which it is based is a little different, emphasizing the relationship between the two young women, and spending less time on secondary characters. This is really a series of eight short stories that hang together as a whole. Shortish. A- $9.20 from Amazon.
American Splendor by Harvey Pekar
This book contains dozens of short autobiographical bits from Pekar’s early work. Some are great, others are less impressive, but on the whole American Splendor does a great job capturing adult angst. I actually prefer the recent film, which is wonderfully post-modern and often hilarious. B+ $11.53 from Amazon.
Locas by Jaime Hernandez
Though this is a classic in the field, I haven’t read any of it yet. To quote Publishers Weekly: “These superb stories … define a world of Hispanic gang warfare, ’80s California, punk rock, women wrestlers and the subtle battle to stay true to oneself. Hernandez’s main characters are Maggie and Hopey, two adorable lesbian rockers who start out in a somewhat vague relationship.” Inc. $31.47 from Amazon.
Palomar by Gilbert Hernandez
If you enjoyed Like Water for Chocolate or One Hundred Years of Solitude, then Palomar may be for you. Publishers Weekly again: “The earliest stories in the book owe more to magical realism and Gabriel Garcia Marquez than to anything that had been done in comics before. But in later pieces … Hernandez’s style is entirely his own”. Inc. $25.17 from Amazon.
Box Office Poison by Alex Robinson
Here’s a graphic novel that I do not own and have not read. Box Office Poison gets rave reviews from every corner. From what I understand, it tracks the misadventures of a group of recent college grads. Inc. $18.87 from Amazon.

Did you notice how the good graphic novels plumbed teen angst and autobiography for material? Did you further notice how the great graphic novels covered bigger subjects: the Holocaust, the Islamic Revolution, the Trojan War? Coincidence? I don’t think so.

One other excellent book to consider is Scott McCloud‘s Understanding Comics ($15.61 from Amazon). Understanding Comics is not a graphic novel, but a visual exploration of the comics medium: how it works, why it works, and so on. It’s brilliant in its simplicity. I actually want to choose this sometime for our book group, and then ask each member to read a graphic novel, too.

Some of you may be wondering, “Where are the great superhero graphic novels?” The short answer is that there aren’t any suitable for people who think they don’t like superhero comics. If you can’t buy into the genre, you’re not going to like the superhero stuff, no matter how good it is.

The primary exception are the products of Alan Moore. His work is imaginative and literary; I think that most open-minded adults will find it engaging. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (volume one, volume two) is clever fun. It takes fictional Victorian heroes — such as Captain Nemo, Dr. Jekyll, and Mina Harker — and melds them into a sort of “superteam”. Every character in the book is an established character from a previous work of fiction or an ancestor of a character from modern-day fiction.

Moore’s V for Vendetta has no superheroes, though it trades on superhero comic tropes. It explores themes of freedom, identity, and fascism. I think the beginning is strong, but the ending is something of a chore.

Finally, Watchmen deals explicitly with superheroes (though largely C-list superheroes that nobody has ever heard of). Many, including myself, consider Watchmen the finest superhero comic ever published. To quote the wikipedia:

Watchmen is drama that incorporates moral philosophy, popular culture, history, art, and science. It is set in an alternative history 1980s America where costumed adventurers are real and the U.S. is close to a nuclear war with Russia. Public opinion towards the notion of vigilantism has soured and public demonstrations demand the police be reinstated as the de facto marshals of law. Meanwhile, members of The Minutemen, a defunct organization of costumed adventurers, are being murdered. Watchmen is the only graphic novel to have won a Hugo Award and is also the only graphic novel to appear on Time magazine’s list of “100 best novels from 1923 to present.”

That’s a lot of information, I know, but I hope this guide proves useful to someone. Comics and graphic novels are often marginalized by the well-read, and that’s too bad. I often find them just as exciting, entertaining, and educational as any other literature.

These Little Things Which Make Up Life

from mid-April —

Noon.

Out for walk with Jason. Thermometer reads seventeen celsius. Sun is bright, though obscured by veil of clouds. Birdsong all around. Hum of lawnmowers in distance. Dead skunk by side of road. I carry a book to read: the Journals of John Cheever. “He meant by his writing to escape this loneliness, to shatter the isolation of others,” his son writes in introduction. Fascinating. Much about Cheever appeals to me. I meet Jason halfway and we walk east on Heinz Road. “A sweatshirt and a hat, huh?” Jason observes; it’s too warm for these. We talk about health care, houses, and books. We talk about dreams. Almost back to his place. I inhale deeply and say, “I love these smells: fresh-cut grass, the scent of the pines. It smells like a forest.” We say our farewells and I take out book again. A bee, punchy from sun, lands on my shoulder. I try to brush it away, but it is too groggy to leave. It clings to sweatshirt. I decide that it is not bothering me, and return to my book. My footsteps disturb a bumblebee by side of road. He flies slowly in parallel, matching my pace, buzzing, then lands on fragrant peach-colored rhododendron. No — it is the daphne next to it that is fragrant. Bee on my shoulder flies away. Birdsong all around. A flicker sounds its jungle cry. Robins chirp. Little birds titter and twitter. Pass culvert with running water — from where? Is nearby nursery irrigating? At corner, I startle pheasant. He rises up, beating air with his bronze wings, drifts across the road to new hiding spot, all the while chortling his gravelly call. I startle second pheasant, takes flight in opposite direction, skimming surface of field until he disappears into tall tuft of grass. He, too, squawks in flight. Across from Lams, long-haired black cat emerges from arborvitae hedge to gaze at me with baleful green eyes. “Move along,” he seems to say. Across from the Zimmers, boy is mowing lawn. Lawnmower has died, and boy — who looks about twelve — yanks on cord: pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull. He gives up and squats by machine, unscrews gas cap. I pass skunk again, hold my breath. I look at Carlsons field: fallow now for three years and filled with unofficial Oregon state plant — the Himalayan blackberry. Across lawn and into office.

One.

Further Tales of the Jays

Some of you may have been following the saga of the juvenile jays here at Rosings Park. We just had more major excitement, so I thought I’d provide a brief update.

To recap:

On Monday evening, Nemo caught a fledgling scrub jay. We rescued the bird, which was unharmed, and one its siblings, and put them in the bushes where we believed they lived. During this excitement, a small community of adult jays (not just the parents) scolded and harried us.

We grounded our cats for several days, locking them in the house during the beautiful warm afternoons and evenings. (“Unfair to cats! Unfair to cats!”)

On Tuesday morning, I found the decapitated corpse of one of the baby jays in the middle of the sidewalk. A neighbor cat had murdered it. We let Simon out for a bit on Tuesday evening while we did yardwork. He didn’t get into any mischief, but the adult jays let him have an earful when he ventured too close to the shrubbery.

On Wednesday evening, Kris spied a neighbor cat in the fledgling ground; it was being harried by the adult jays. She ran outside and scared the interloper away. She also moved a baby jay from the middle of the lawn into the shrubs.

On Friday morning, I found a second decapitated baby jay corpse in the middle of the sidewalk. A neighbor cat had murdered it. In the afternoon, I beat the bushes, but neither saw nor heard any jays, young or old. We let our cats outside.

Moments ago, Nemo caught another baby jay and brought it to the porch. This time, the bird was not unharmed. He did not kill it, but I believe he broke one of its legs. “We should bring it in and feed it,” Kris said. I convinced her that we could not possibly save it, and that its only hope is to gain flight (which it is close to doing). We watched it struggle across the lawn in the rain — the adults flew from tree to tree, swooping low over the ground to keep an eye on their charge. I spotted another baby underneath the azaleas, so got up and moved the wounded bird to be with its sibling. The adults raised a ruckus.

How many baby jays are there? Will any survive? I don’t know. But I dearly hope that, in just a few days, we’ll look out the kitchen window at the feeder to see a juvenile jay with a wounded leg.

Coming Up Roses

I often grouse and complain in this forum. It seems fitting that today — on a day that I feel great — I should take some time to be happy and cheerful.

And I do feel great. Why?

  • I’ve lost eleven pounds in the past six weeks; my pants are no longer tight.
  • I’m writing more than I ever have in my life.
  • I’m making and saving money.
  • The weather has been gorgeous (if a little warm).
  • I love my wife and she loves me.
  • Our garden is alive with new growth: flowers, berries, veggies.
  • I have a cat sitting in the crook of my left arm as I type, purring.
  • My personal finance blog is off to an awesome start. (And my comics blog was doing fine til I stopped posting.)
  • I’m reading a great book: The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. (Again.)
  • I’ve been listening to great music (80s rock) all day.
  • I’ve been off the St. John’s wort for several weeks and feel fine.

And, most of all, I feel like I have a purpose. It has been years since I’ve had a purpose.

It seems everything’s coming up roses — everything’s going my way.

Update: I forgot to mention a couple of other things that have me happy:

  • Friends.
  • I made $425 at the garage sale last weekend, which I have earmarked for a Nintendo Wii this fall.
  • All of my weblogs have been very rewarding over the past month, and in many ways. (Keep sending me links, guys — I love it. I may even turn the flotch into a presentable stand-alone linkblog.)
  • Mike, a visitor to this site, took the time to look through my CSS file to find two bugs that had eluded me. Outstanding. The only reward he asked was: “Use Firefox. Don’t do drugs (or credit cards). Get out of debt and stay out of debt.” I already push Firefox heavily among PC-using friends and family, but I’m going to give a try on my Mac now.

If I think of more things that make me happy, I’ll post them.

Pigeons == Flying Bricks

I just got home from work. I’m sitting in the library, looking at comic books, when I hear a rattling bang in or near the kitchen. What could it be? Simon wonders, too, and he goes to look. I don’t get up.

A few minutes pass. I’m leafing through my comic book. WHAM! It’s that rattling bang again. I’m puzzled. Is Kris home, slamming closed the lid to the yard waste container? Did the mail carrier just drop two heavy boxes on the front porch? Is somebody outside vandalizing the house?

I get up to check.

Simon is sitting between the kitchen and the dining room, ears pricked, staring out the big window over the sink. There’s a group of pigeons on the feeder. You don’t suppose…?

I do suppose. There is a stunned pigeon on the ground, standing there, looking even stupider than usual. There are two new birdprints on the window. (There’s also a big, juicy one from last fall that I won’t let Kris clean — it cracks me up.)

Pigeons are SO DUMB. They’re like flying bricks.

Saving Baby Jay

Note: Though this entry may at first appear to be filled with cat on bird violence, it has a happy ending. I think.

I was sound asleep in the tub tonight when Kris came barging into the house. “Nemo just caught a juvenile jay!” she shouted, distressed. I woke with a start. Outside there was a raucous squawking riot. I rose from the tub and dripped to the front door, naked.

Nemo was slinking around the back of the house, treasure in mouth. Simon was making his way to the azalea hedge where the capture had occurred. “What do I do?” Kris asked.

“Scare Simon,” I said. I ran to the bathroom for my pants. When I came outside, Kris was pouring her water bottle over the azaleas. “No,” I said. “Hit the hedge with a stick.” She did so, and Simon bounded out. So, too, did another juvenile jay. Simon saw it, but Kris was quicker: she scooped it into her hands.

“What do I do now?” she asked.

“Hold on,” I said. I grabbed Simon and shut him in the house. Mama and Papa Jay were flying from limb-to-limb, squawking at us.

“I’m going to make a nest for the baby,” Kris said. She bunched up some ivy in the crook of some pine branches, then placed the fledgling inside. While she worked, I walked around the house to find Nemo.

He was back by the dogwoods, seated in loaf position, watching his baby jay as it hopped along the ground. Nemo wasn’t even trying to play with it. I thought for sure the thing had been mortally wounded, but when I picked it up, I was shocked to find that it was wholly uninjured. How was that even possible? As I carried it back to the front yard, it squawked — louder than any adult jay I’ve ever heard — and struggled to be free. Its parents squawked in reply.

“Is it alive?” Kris asked after she had locked Nemo in the house. She was as shocked as I was. “What do we do now?” she said.

“Put it in the tree with its brother?” I suggested. But when I crept behind the azaleas — naked except for my pants — the other fledgling was gone. “Ouch,” I said, pricked by holly leaves and pine needles. Kris took a turn looking in the pine and on the ground nearby, but there was no sign of the bird. Can a parent jay carry its children? we wondered.

I let the feisty jay free on the grass where it immediately hopped for cover underneath a lawn chair. “We should feed it,” Kris said. While she looked for worms, I grabbed my camera. I loved the little bird’s personality, his indomitable spirit to have survived Nemo.

“Worms are more difficult to find when you need them,” Kris said, bringing a little one for the baby jay. The bird pecked at it, but did not eat it.

We spent half an hour trying to get the parents and the baby to reunite. Mama and Papa Jay were aware that their baby was with us; they flew from hedge to bush to tree, keeping low to the ground, but they would not come into the open to get their child. And we didn’t want to let the fledgling hop into the bushes (which was what it wanted to do).

The mosquitoes feasted upon our flesh: I was still wearing only a pair of pants.

As dusk fell, we brought the bird inside and put it in a cat carrier. (Oh! The irony!) We gave it a dish of water and a dish of millet. We made a bed of straw. While Kris fussed over our young charge, I googled for information. I found a page about how to care for baby birds — unfortunately, its advice was to let the fledglings hop into the bushes where its parents can care for them, something we had prevented. By this time it was dark out, and we were worried that the parents had given up on their child when we brought it inside.

“I’ll get a box,” I said. I found a shoebox, and we moved the bird and its water and its millet inside. I took the shoebox and placed it behind the azalea hedge, beneath the pine tree.

Will our little jay survive? I don’t know. I hope so. Our feline children will not be allowed outside for several days, that’s for sure. The first place they’ll go when we let them out is the azalea hedge, hunting for birds. I’m hopeful that by the weekend the juvenile jays will be able to fly, and thus elude our hunters.

Cat and Bill disapprove of the fact that we allow the cats outside, partly because they do hunt, killing birds from time-to-time. I respect their position, and understand their concerns, but mostly I believe that the cat-bird dynamic is hardcoded into nature and ought to be allowed to play out. However, I recognize that as a moral human animal, it is my responsibility to do what I can to protect all intelligent life when possible. Nemo killing a goldfinch once or twice a year is one thing; Nemo picking off baby jays who have left the nest is another.

What line has been crossed here? I can’t articulate it, but I do know that so long as it’s within my power to save these baby jays, it’s my responsibility to do so. I feel no remorse at the death of a goldfinch, but the death of a jay seems reprehensible. Whine as they might, the cats are restricted indoors for several more days.

Resources about caring for baby birds:

Be well, little bird!

HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach

For my birthday, Kris’ parents gave me a Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer. This thing has an incredible reach, and suddenly my hedge trimming chores aren’t so daunting. Mostly.

Look at the features of the Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer!

  • 2.6 amp motor
  • 24″ extra-long blade
  • 3/4″ max cut capacity
  • dual blade action
  • 6.2# lightweight
  • 2-position pivoting blade
  • improved control
  • extra reach
  • increased accuracy
  • “clean, aggressive cuts

The box claims that the Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer cuts branches faster and easier with 40% less vibration.

What’s my evaluation of the Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer after eight hours of use? Well, it does cut hedges, but it’s certainly not very good at it. Clean, aggressive cuts? Try ragged, passive cuts. This thing even has trouble cutting through boxwood! If you’re slow and patient, however, it will cut anything. Just not cleanly. It sort of tears the camellia.

This Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer gets 2-1/2 stars at Amazon. The most recent issue of Consumer Reports rated it as Fair with a score of something like 62. That’s not very good.

But don’t let that scare you off! I’m actually glad to have my Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer. Its extended reach feature is worth its weight in gold. Next year when I trim the arborvitae hedge, I won’t have to work from both sides; I’ll be able to get it all in one pass. I also like the 2-position pivoting blade, which allows me to trim from multiple positions. I am very grateful for this tool, and it’s sure to get lots of use.

(I won’t be getting rid of my Black & Decker TR165 16″ Hedge Trimmer any time soon, though. This badboy is smaller, lighter, and has almost as strong a motor as the Black & Decker HH2410 HedgeHog XR 24″ Extended Reach Hedge Trimmer. Each of the machines has its uses, and I carry them both with me as I roam the yard, keeping the shrubs in check.)

I’ve been meaning to get in our yard and use the hedge trimmer, but one thing after another has reared its ugly head: I started two new weblogs, we got busy at work, I got sick for two weeks, and so on. Finally, last week I was able to get outside for four consecutive afternoons to trim the camellias, laurel, boxwood, and skimmia that encircle our house. It took me eight hours, but I finally got the job done. I also managed to trim the camellias next to the workshop.

Now I need to find time to:

  • Mow the lawn again
  • Prune every other hedge on the property — I’m maybe half-way done with my hedgetrimming for the spring
  • Cut up all of the lilac and laurel limbs that we pruned recently — we took down a small fraction of the wood on this place, and yet it feels like we didn’t do a thing

I hope that this hedge trimmer comes in handy for many years to come. Thanks, Chris and Claudia!

Garage Sale Update 2006

The first day of our garage sale went well. I was by myself, so I couldn’t be as social as last year. This also meant that when I needed to relieve myself, I simply ducked behind the garden shed to piss on the camellia.

I had fun chatting up the customers, though I still haven’t learned which people lack social graces and see friendliness as invitation to ramble on about their Aunt Margaret’s gall bladder surgery. It’s like a minefield: you gab with the buyers about the weather, about the neighborhood, about the garden, and then all of a sudden there’s somebody who lingers for twenty minutes to discuss how evil those fucking Democrats are, how they’re ruining the country.

Mostly though, it was a relaxing day, warm but overcast. I sat on the reclining love seat (only $60!) and read. I used an extension cord to plug in my Airport Express outside so that I could have internet access. (The Airport Express relayed my wireless signal from the house to the driveway. I didn’t get much time to use the access, but it was there.)

I worked on an article about garage sale tips for my personal finance weblog. Simon kept me company.

He hung around all day, lounging in the garage, in the driveway, in the garden. Early in the day he climbed onto the roof, where he entertained the customers. After a couple of hours, he decided that he didn’t know how to get down. He meowed piteously. I tried to help, but he was scared. Ultimately, his solution was to step down gingerly on to the newly-trimmed ewe hedge at the edge of the driveway. This did not make him happy: the hedge sagged and bowed beneath him. He whined some more. I managed to get him down, but not without a struggle.

To recover, he spent some time lounging in the midst of Kris’ purple irises. He had been there for some time when a hummingbird came chit chiting along. The hummingbird and I were both startled when Simon leapt from the irises and came within inches of nicking a tasty snack. I never thought a cat could catch a hummingbird, but I’ve changed my mind now. Given the correct circumstances, I believe it’s possible.

Simon came to sit on my lap, where he was once again a crowd favorite. When he was bored of dad, he began to do whatever he could to climb into the garage rafters. He tried to scale a support post. He tried to jump up from a high vantage. Eventually he found a slanted wooden brace that he was able to walk up and into the exciting unknown territories. For the next hour or so, he walked around on top of the garage doors, causing trouble.

Meanwhile, we had a lot of traffic. It seemed about twice as busy as last year, in fact, though sales weren’t double.

We sold $153.25 yesterday (up from $123.50 on the same day last year). Of that, $64.00 is mine, $46.50 belonds to Kris, and $42.75 is Tiffany’s. Last year we collected $206 on Friday and $222.50 on Saturday. I have high hopes for this year, too. Somebody buy our television! Buy our couch! Buy Joel and Aimee‘s old intermittently-operational DVD player!

Most of all, buy my comic books!

The Street of Cheap Dreams

Get your geek on!

Come browse the third annual Geek Garage Sale. Part of an entire street filled with sales, ours offers comic books, board games, role-playing games, computer books, movies, Star Trek stuff, baseball annuals and a whole lot more.

I’m going to be selling the comics for cheap — basically a buck a piece unless something’s especially cool or especially lame. I have a run of Marvel’s Conan from 26-50, a large chunk of Wonder Woman, a (nearly) complete set of Star Trek: The Next Generation, a bunch of Star Wars comics, and so much more.

I’ll be selling some assorted comics compilations, too, including Watchmen, Sandman, and a stack of Marvel Essentials. (The Essentials are $5/ea, the others are $10/ea.)

This year we’re selling a reclining love seat in great condition. (We just don’t have room for it in our house.) We’re also selling a gas range in not-so-great condition (but it’s cheap). We have vases and women’s clothing and plants and pots for said plants and hundreds of compact discs (mostly eighties and nineties rock). There’s a fully-functional television, a sometimes-functional DVD player, a cordless drill, and — if you want her — a bitchy twelve-year-old black cat.

Most of all, there are books. Lots of books. So many books that you can basically name your price.

Oh yeah: I’m finally selling my typewriter. Can you believe it? That’s wholesale commitment to the Information Age…

The eighth annual Street of Cheap Dreams (and third annual Geek Garage Sale) takes place Thursday, Friday, and Saturday from 9-5. The Geek Garage Sale is located at 15112 SE Lee Avenue in Oak Grove, just south of Milwaukie, and only twelve minutes from Portland. (We’re just twenty minutes from Canby, so come on up, old friends!)

While you’re out here, check out the other neighborhood garage sale.

(Note that because of the garage sale, I probably won’t have computer access tomorrow or Friday and maybe not on Saturday. I have a big entry planned for tomorrow, though, so it’ll probably end up postdated. Watch for it.)