Girl Detective

I’ve cut back considerably on my comic reading in recent years, being diligent about only reading things that I like, and stopping on books and series that are less than great. I’m happy to say I tore through Fables volume 14: Witches. Powerful villains terrorize two factions of Fables, who fight back with surprising results. I was gnashing my teeth at the cliffhanger that ended #91, and the following two issues, while good, became an annoying distraction as I’m more interested in the main tale, specifically with Frau Totenkinder, who has always been one of my favorite characters, and who plays a central role in this volume.

Fables the series posits a world in which characters from myth and fable live secretly in our world. It’s dark, magical, sometimes funny, and almost always engaging. For fans of dark fantasy, and other Vertigo titles like Sandman.

A friend recommended the graphic novels Jonathan Ames’ The Alcoholic and Julia Wertz’s Drinking at the Movies to me at the same time, and they make good companions for each other. I wrote about The Alcoholic already. It’s dark and moody, while Drinking at the Movies is more upbeat and consistently funny. Wertz chronicles her move from SF to NYC with an eye at least as honest about herself as she is about others (as all good memoirists should be, I think).

This isn’t the typical redemptive coming of age tale of a young woman and her glorious triumph over tragedy or any such nonsense. It’s simply a hilarious–occasionally poignant–book filled with interesting art, absurd humor and plenty of amusing self deprecation.

She makes 20-something slackerhood funny, and her Sunday-comics boxy layouts and iconic art make this easy to read, even when the subject matter is serious, like her drinking, depression, addict brother, and more. Way more fun than it should be, which says a lot about the talent of its creator.

The Alcoholic came out in 2009. Drinking at the Movies was published in 2010. I just read “Lush for Life” at Salon today (link from The Morning News). There’s a weird synchronicity going on with tales of booze and debauchery.

Though published as fiction, the graphic “novel” The Alcoholic by Jonathan Ames reads more like real life. Whatever its blend might be, it’s an engaging, brutal, funny, tragic story.

My name is Jonathan A. and I’m an alcoholic. I have a lot of problems. Not more than the average person, really, but I have a propensity for getting into trouble, especially when I’ve been drinking. This one night, I came out of a blackout and I was with this old, exceedingly tiny lady in a station wagon.

Illustrated in moody black and white by Dean Haspiel, the tale charms and horrifies by turns. But because of its honesty, it’s never less than enthralling, even when Jonathan is at his most pathetic. For fans of other messed-up memoir authors, like David Sedaris and Alison Bechdel.

I’ll try to briefly wrap up last year’s reading.

Anne Frank: The Anne Frank House Authorized Graphic Biography by Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colon. How could a version of Anne’s story not move me? I was dry eyed at the end of this “graphic biography” with stiff, photo-based art and few new additions to the story, while condensing the rest to a bare personal and historical summary. This might be a good way to introduce a young reader to Anne’s story if they were daunted by her diary, but it is a poor substitute for that great book. I feel like a complete crank for not liking this book, but please seek out Anne’s diary or Francine Prose’s book on it instead.

Richard Stark’s Parker Book Two: The Outfit by Darwyn Cooke. The shades of black and blue suit the noir tale perfectly. Cooke’s second adapation of Stark’s Parker books is a well-told and illustrated tale. Parker is a definite anti-hero, and though his and the other characters’ attitudes to women are abominably of their time and genre, it’s hard not to root for him. Also, this book is printed on heavy paper, with thick end pages of a mod design. It’s a lovely object.

Ex Machina volumes 9 and 10: Ring out the Old and Term Limits, by Bryan K. Vaughan and Tony Harris. I’ve felt ambivalent about this series for a while, and hoped that the creators could bring it to a satisfying close. They brought it to a close, but one that left me in a bad mood. The series is about Mitchell Hundred, a reluctant superhero who saved many on 9/11, and was subsequently elected mayor. The last two volumes of the series find him deciding not to run again, and attempting to finish out his term while also battling the friends and enemies working against him since the start of the series.

Some questions I had were unanswered, they made a long-suffering character suffer too much, in my opinion, and the meaning of the ending seemed too simple, and not even fitting for the series. Bah. These bridged the end of the year and the new beginning, and I hope 2011 will bring more auspicious reading. If you want a good series that ends with integrity, I highly recommend Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.

Impressed earlier this fall by Posy Simmonds Tamara Drewe graphic novel (not the movie adaptation, which I didn’t see), I sought out her earlier riff on the classic Madame Bovary, Gemma Bovery. (TD was a riff on Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd.)

Gemma is a self-involved artistic English woman who marries Charlie Bovery, who refurnishes antique furniture. Frustrated by their circumstances in London, they move to rural France. Their nosy neighbor, a portly white balding man, Joubert, narrates the story. He is a creepy ogler, fascinated by Gemma and her increasingly risky behavior.

If all this sounds familiar to those who’ve read Madame Bovary, it’s meant to. But as with the name and characters and situations, this is a modern take with significant differences as well. It does share with Flaubert, though, a skewering eye for detail that nonetheless makes its characters understandable, if not entirely sympathetic. After reading, I wondered why both Gemma Bovery and Tamara Drewe were narrated by portly, white, balding, intrusive men. Then I noted a similarity between these details and those of Hardy and Flaubert. Simmonds has done fascinating work, updating classics with words and pictures to tell the stories in a fresh, modern, sophisticated way. Highly recommended, but read the original first.

I knew I would read Far Arden sometime, as it’s a lovely looking book by a local author/illustrator of graphic novels. There was nothing to push it to the head of the TBR pile, though, till I was asked to review something for another publication. Then it jumped the queue.

Far Arden cover

Far Arden’s hero, Army Shanks, literally almost leaps off the front cover, surrounded by a lengthy (but not confusing) cast of characters, a complicated past, and a future in which he hopes to find Far Arden, a legendary idyllic island in the Northern Arctic Sea. It starts off as a swashbuckling adventure story: heroes! villains! ex-girlfiends! cute orphans! lost, legendary maps. In spite of many threads and characters, all of this meshes well and swept this reader along at a fast clip, not least because of a clever visual storytelling style and many humorous passages.

In the middle, though, this boys’ adventure becomes something more complicated and interesting. Tragedy intrudes on the characters’ adventures, and a thornier combination of story and emotion takes this in a bittersweet direction to a decidedly noir-ish ending. Fun and funny at the beginning, this goes beyond being a thumping good read. Recommended.

You can check out the whole book online, but if you like it, I recommend buying it. Not only will you support an artist and Top Shelf, one of the rare publisher’s encouraging artist-owned works, but it’s a gem of an object–small, solid, cloth-bound and covered in the colors of sunset and the sea. It feels great in the hand and will be handsome on a shelf. I’ve linked above to amazon, but recommend seeking it out at your local comic shop.

For a fitting explanation of the odd origins of this book, see Kevin’s unique explanation at Powell’s.

My friend Big Brain pointed out Tamara Drewe, a graphic novel, to me when I was in the comic shop last week.

I’d heard of the film (which has received mostly mediocre reviews) but he said the GN was well reviewed, which is almost understatement when I looked at the blurbs on the back. They are from reputable sources and aren’t stinting in their praise.

Posy Simmonds is a graphic artist who has done children’s books, this and a previous graphic novel, Gemma Bovery, and more. Tamara Drewe the book is a modern retelling of Thomas Hardy’s Far From the Madding Crowd. The setting is the English countryside, at a retreat for writers. I haven’t read the Hardy, but am now interested in it because of this engaging homage.

Simmonds combines the art, prose passages, faux tabloid excerpts and word bubbles to great effect. This is absolutely a whole that is more than the sum of its parts, in other words, a skilled execution of the medium of the graphic novel, made all the more engaging by its involving story and broad cast of characters.

Tamara of the title tempts all the men when she returns to the neighborhood. She begins a rocky relationship, but continues to attract attention from the men and bored teens in the neighborhood. Other’s stories circle around hers. Beth oversees the writers retreat, while her novelist husband Nicholas earns fame and money to make it popular. One of the residents, Glen, is long at work on his academic novel. Local Andy Cobb is trying to start an organic farm, and helps out on the grounds of the retreat. Two local girls, Casey and Jody, goggle at Tamara and her boyfriend and get into a variety of trouble.

Having recently read two 19th century novels, Villette and Madame Bovary, I found this work very much in the same spirit. Many characters, many characters, with crossovers and coincidences tying everything together in complex and interesting ways. Unlike the other two books, though, it didn’t contain any digs at the Jesuits. It’s beautifully illustrated, and is much more than an illustrated novel. Highly recommended, and I’ll be seeking out both Simmonds’ other work and potentially the Hardy because of it.

One piece of minutiae: Glen Larson is an American, yet used two phrases that didn’t ring true to me. He called his sweaters “knits” at one point, and referred to himself a few times as a “pantyhose.” If the latter is indeed English slang (I thought it was pantywaist, not pantyhose) then both are easily explained as Glen picking up English slang while he’s there. But if were speaking American, he would say sweaters and refer to himself as a douchebag.

Another, and this is me being especially nerdy. The main character’s name reminded me of Nancy Drew, one of the fictional characters for whom I took the name of this weblog. Glen’s last name is Larson, the same as Glen A. Larson, the man who produced the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mystery show that was a huge cultural moment of my childhood. A strange coincidence?

A third thing that struck me: the heroine of Hardy’s novel is Bathsheba Everdene. I’m currently reading The Hunger Games, whose main character is Katniss Everdeen. Again, strange coincidence, or just mega-geekery on my part?

When Marvel Comics adapted Pride and Prejudice, I liked the cute covers, and howled with pain when my eyes were assaulted by the “art” on the inside. That plus too-free and unnecessary departures from Austen’s own prose made me swiftly toss it. Their recent miniseries adaptation of Austen’s Sense & Sensibility shows that perhaps lessons were learned.

Covers and interiors were done by Sonny Liew (who only did the covers last time) and the prose and dialogue were closer to Austen’s own. Liew’s manga-influenced style was a good fit for the tale of the Dashwood sisters: older, common-sense Elinor, and younger, hyper-sensitive Marianne. In addition to good characterization of the sisters, the other players characteristics are well drawn, both figuratively and literally: Willoughby’s charm, Brandon’s patience, Edward Ferrar’s reticence, Lucy Steele’s obnoxiousness.

As in any adaptation, a few things went missing: the troubling aspect of Marianne’s ending, their mother’s silliness. And one of my favorite bits of the novel, Mr. Palmer’s humorous comments are but touched on. Yet, they are still touched on, which I think shows how this adaptation has a much better feel for its subject matter than did the P & P debacle.

My one major complaint is that the individual monthly issues have ads interspersed through the story. The placement goes beyond distracting to possibly surreal.

(I will try to insert an example photo, except Facebook is not cooperating.)

I would highly recommend waiting for the graphic novel collected edition instead, scheduled for release in November 2010.

Our family has become a big fan of cartoonist Chris Monroe after a helpful Barnes and Noble bookseller pointed out Monkey with a Toolbelt in the store one day. I got that and Monkey with a Toolbelt and the Noisy Problem from the library to test drive them. All four of us fell in love:

Here is Chico Bon Bon

Here, indeed. Monroe further endeared herself by signing copies for Guppy’s 4th birthday, even bringing them to our house since she was in the neighborhood. (Have I mentioned? We have a really good ‘hood.) AND she was gracious about G. Grod, who happened to ride up on his bike, drunk, just as she got out of her car. (He’d participated in the Stupor Bowl.)

When her newest book, Sneaky Sheep was released, we trekked to St. Paul for cake and the new book. I was thrilled, then, when I learned a friend of ours had a copy of Ultra Violet, a collection of Monroe’s indie comic “Violet Days” from way back when. She’s an artist from Duluth, MN, and her comics mostly center around the Violet of the title, pesky squirrels and sneaky skeletons. The humor and art, like her children’s books, are weird and endearing. If you, like us, are grownup fans of Monroe’s children’s books, you might want to track a copy down.

Or, better yet, go see her in person (!) when she comes to the Twin Cities Book Fest on Saturday October 16, along with other great authors like M.T. Anderson, William Kunstler, and, (WTF?) Alexander McCall Smith. He’s sold a couple books and a few people like him, I’ve heard.

In preparation for next week’s meeting of Books and Bars (which I just found out clashes with a Club Book reading by Colson Whitehead at the Roseville library; doh!), I pulled Craig Thompson’s Blankets off the shelf to re-read.

The first time I read it, I was moved by this comic-book memoir of a young boy’s boyhood, first love, and struggle with faith. I’d heard the rumblings over the years since it had been published that decried it as the romantic hand wringing of a sappy emo boy. This made me very aware of this aspect of the book, and made me like the book a little less, since it’s the bulk of this very bulky book.

I’m still moved by his depiction of boyhood with his younger brother, and with his creative ways of showing his struggles with the fundamentalist Christian upbringing he had in rural Wisconsin. But there’s very little humor here to leaven the material, and the book drags sometimes because of this. His visual storytelling is impressive, and the art work is beautiful.

It’s interesting to compare with another comic book I just read, Unwritten: Inside Man, which is more an illustrated story, IMO, than a graphic work, where the art and text combine to tell the story. I still recommend Blankets, though not if you’re feeling particularly jaded or cynical.

I was excited to see the second volume of the comic-book series Unwritten: Inside Man, at the comic shop recently. I enjoyed volume 1, but wondered if it was merely a promising beginning or indeed the foundation for a good story. I am leaning more to the latter interpretation after reading volume 2.

The line between the person, Tom Taylor, and the fictional character his father created, Tommy Taylor, is increasingly blurred. Following the disturbing events at the end of volume 1, Tom’s life becomes a lot more difficult, and the truly strange, literary things that happen don’t make things any easier. This is a dark, at times violent book that’s telling a story while also talking about telling stories. It’s intriguing enough that I’ll read on. If you liked Sandman or like Fables, this is likely in your wheelhouse.

After Dave Eggers’ Zeitoun, I wanted to read Josh Neufeld’s graphic “novel” (narrative, I’d say), A.D.: New Orleans After the Deluge, which depicts New Orleans and some of its inhabitants before, during and long after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.
Neufeld was a Red Cross volunteer in the aftermath of the hurricane, and began by chronicling his experiences online, which eventually led to this book.

The city itself is almost a character, since the book begins with the storm before it moves into the people. There are seven main characters in a rotation of five stories. They have different ages, ethnicities and religions. Some left; some stayed. Some returned; some did not.

A.D. New Orleans shows, in pictures and text, an up-close reality very unlike the lawless chaos the media was so eager to emphasize. As with Zeitoun, the personal is political, and the specifics point to universalities. This book makes it all too easy, and decidedly uncomfortable, to imagine oneself in one (or several) of the characters’ shoes. Highly recommended.

The Scott Pilgrim comic series by Bryan Lee O’Malley is about the 20-something slacker kid of the title and his efforts to woo and win the girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers. There are many obstacles along the way, like his chaste romance with high schooler Knives Chau, and Ramona’s seven evil exes, whom Scott must defeat in combat. Lucky for him he’s the best fighter in the province. (He’s Canadian.)

I think my favorite is volume 1, since it epitomizes the out-there, wacky visual humor of the entire series, and often made me laugh aloud. My least favorite was volume 3, since it wasn’t as funny. My favorite character was probably drummer Kim Pine (below, left).

The entire series of six is a fun-filled ride of manga-inspired goofiness that I highly recommend.

Oh, and the movie’s good, too.

Remember when I reviewed Dragonflight a little while back, and we had a great discussion in the comments about better books for tween and teen girls where the main character has a relationship with another girl and is not defined by the boys around her? Foiled, a graphic novel by the prolific writer Jane Yolen, is one of those better books.

Aliera attends the smallest high school in New York City. She fences, hence the pun of the title. She doesn’t always get along with her parents, but she has a good relationship with her cousin. They play a D & D like game every weekend and talk about what’s going on with Aliera, like fencing tournaments and cute boys at school. Not much goes on with the cousin, as she’s confined to a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis.

When Aliera gets asked out on a date by the ridiculously named cute boy Avery Castle, things begin to get weird in that “hey, magic is real!” way. And they do not unfold in a predictable or saccharine manner. Aliera is funny, charming, and easy to relate to. Her fencing skills are cool. The art, by Mike Cavallaro, is manga influenced, and easy to read and engage with. This book sets the stage for further books, so it’s a beginning rather than a complete story. I will definitely read the next book in this series, and would recommend this one unreservedly for tween and young teen girls who like fantasy.

The blurb on the front said Batman R.I.P. is “as good as superhero comics get” and it was from IGN, a pretty trusted source for geekiana. I’ve been reading Morrison’s reboot of Batman and Robin, and like it a lot. This was the story that led up to it. So I took the bait, bought the book, read the book, and the same thing happened as almost always happens when I read a Grant Morrison book; I thought, “Huh? What? I don’t get it…”

Here’s what I think it’s about: A villain group called The Black Glove has sworn to destroy Batman, in a way that put me in mind of a book I liked much better, Daredevil: Born Again. They involve the Joker, who they refer to as The Master. They do, in fact, manage to make some Very Bad Things happen to Batman–poison, madness, drugs, kidnapped girlfriend, etc. And in the end a helicopter goes down, with one of the bad guys and with Batman. Do you think he’s dead? For real? This time?

Grant Morrison said in an interview that the villain’s reveal would be one of the most shocking things in Batman’s history. After reading the book, this confused me. First, because I found at least three main villains (possibly a fourth), and a whole lot of secondary ones. Second, because when I finally figured out which one I thought he was talking about (I’m still not completely certain) it wasn’t shocking.

In the wake of my confusion, I looked up reviews, most of which are excellent. But the excellent reviews came from comic-book critics and fans who had been reading the various Batman titles all along. That isn’t me.

I have geek cred. I’ve read comics for over twenty years, and even worked in comic shops. I’ve read a lot of Batman. But what I’ve read were often stand-alone graphic novels, like The Dark Night Returns, The Long Halloween, The Killing Joke, Mad Love, etc. I don’t read every issue of every Bat title. I have a general sense of what’s going on in the major universes. I know the main characters and history. And that wasn’t enough to appreciate this book. There’s lots of good stuff in it; Grant Morrison is a good writer and a very clever guy. But I think this collection is better suited for medium-high to high Bat fans who follow the ongoing books. It couldn’t quite stand alone, I thought.

I did it! I finished 15 books in 15 days! Woot! And for those of you attempting this folly with me, thank you. For those of you reading along, thank you. For my family, who were even more neglected than usual, thank you.

I encourage everyone who participated in this project to comment. By everyone, I mean those who read 15, those who tried, those who considered it, and those who just read the reviews. What was your favorite, or least favorite? How many books did you move off your TBR shelves? What’s the biggest insight you take away?

And now, last but definitely not least, #15: Asterios Polyp. David Mazzuchelli was the artist/collaborator with Frank Miller on two of my favorite superhero graphic novels, Daredevil: Born Again, and Batman: Year One. Both are classics, and good examples of superhero books for those who dismiss superheroes. Asterios Polyp is Mazzuchelli’s first solo work, and it’s a masterful one. Having just finished it, I look forward to reading it again. It also made me want to read The Odyssey; few books have that power.

Asterios of the title is an Updike-ish architect. Recently divorced, his apartment building is struck by lightning. He grabs three items and his wallet, and takes a bus to the middle of nowhere. The story alternates between the present, where he works as a mechanic in a small town, and the past, his marriage to the artist Hana. Throughout, the art and story focus on duality, yet together they achieve something that transcends either/or.

The art is highly stylized (formalistic, the reviews call it) as is the use of color, playing with variations on cyan, magenta and yellow. Each character has their own font, as well as their own art style. The many layers of artistic variation are dizzying but exhilarating.

Asterios Polyp was just awarded the first-ever LA Times Book Prize for Graphic Novels. For more reviews, check out those from

New York Times
Scott McCloud
Entertainment Weekly
The Comics Journal

And, to sum up my 15/15/15 reading: In Other Rooms, Other Wonders; Shakespeare Wrote for Money; Eats, Shoots and Leaves; Mercury; Chocolate War; Unwritten; Ex Machina: Dirty Tricks; Buffy: Retreat; This is Water; Desperate Characters; Borrowed Finery; The Slave Dancer; Stitches; The Catnappers; Asterios Polyp.

favorite book read: can’t pick just one! Asterios Polyp, Stitches, Catnappers, Slave Dancer, Chocolate War
least favorite books read: Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Retreat and Ex Machina: Dirty Tricks
# of books out of 15 moved off TPR shelves: 14, 5 of which had been there over a year
lesson learned: do this in winter next time–late December or early January
next book: Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
book on deck: Await Your Reply by Dan Chaon
next book project: Baroque Summer

For those reading along in the 15/15/15 project, the 8th book means we’re more than halfway there! My 8th book was a huge disappointment. It’s the 6th graphic novel collection, Retreat, of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic book series, which has been written sometimes, and overseen always, by Joss Whedon, who referred to it as season 8.

I’ve tried hard to like it, and to find the good things about this series, because I have a huge affection for the Buffy television series, even if I thought seasons 6 and 7 were poorly executed (barring “Once More with Feeling”, the notable exception).

The comic-book series posits that there is now an army of slayers, spread around the world, training in unison against the forces of darkness. There’s also a big bad, named Twilight, who’s gunning for Buffy and her army of slayers. In “Retreat” the Twilight army keeps getting closer because they can track magic and power. Buffy and the Scooby gang head to Tibet to look up an old friend who might have something to say about using less magic and less power.

Penned by Jane Espenson, a Buffy scribe from the later seasons, this story was a mess. The humor was infrequent and unfunny. The art was hard to read; I often couldn’t tell which character was which, and if it wasn’t a close-up, the details were, literally, sketchy. The threats weren’t threatening, the relationships didn’t have depth, and while it ended on a mysterious cliff hanger, the bottom of the page had the audacity to read “The End”. I don’t care to find out what happens next. I’ll leave the character of Buffy in mid air (really) and be done with this series.

I loved Darwyn Cooke’s art and storytelling on DC: The New Frontier, volumes 1 and 2. In the back pages of the excellent comic-book series Criminal, I’ve noted Ed Brubaker’s regular recommendations of the Parker novels by Richard Stark, a pseudonym of the prolific Donald Westlake. So when Cooke’s adaptation of the first Parker novel, Richard Stark’s Parker: the Hunter, was published, I wanted to give it a shot.

With shaded pencils and minimal color, Cooke combines Stark’s words with his own distinctive art to create a great new story. The book was less of a whodunnit than about how Parker, a hulking, double-crossed bad ass, is going to take his revenge.

The night air was crisp. Parker was suddenly famished. He headed for his hotel, a hot shower, and a thick steak.

This is classic noir. There’s violence, and unflattering portrayals of women. As with the show Mad Men, I took this as a snapshot of a particular time and could enjoy the book on its retro merits, though some might not be able to.

Westlake died recently, and while his Parker books have been adapted before, most notably in Point Blank starring Lee Marvin as “Walker” and the less successful remake Payback with Mel Gibson as “Porter”, Cooke’s is the only one he allowed to use the Parker name.

I respect Grant Morrison’s work. But I don’t always get it. I’m fairly certain the deficiency is me, as I’ve read about the zillion obscure-to-me referents he used for whichever book I didn’t care for or understand, like his All-Star Superman. So I approached his take on Batman and Robin, Batman Reborn with trepidation.

From moment one, I was in the driver’s seat, first in the bad guys’ car, then in a Bat vehicle. Morrison tags between these two scenes, and quickly situates us in the Bat-universe:

Robin: I told you it would work. All I had to do was adapt my father’s blueprints.

Batman: I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Damian…

Robin: “Never use real names in the field.” Your words.

Batman: You’re paying attention. Good. You know, I’d have killed for a flying batmobile when I was Robin.

A few pages later, we learn which former Robin is the new Batman, because apparently Bruce Wayne is dead.

I have a passing familiarity with the Bat-universe. I knew who Damian was, and guessed who Batman was, before Alfred confirmed it, though I don’t know who all the Robins have been. This reboot, then, is not only for regular readers of the monthly Bat titles, but also for casual fans of the Bat. It’s quite good, and in the Morrison/Quitely tradition, often gruesome.

There are villains aplenty, like Pyg and the Flamingo, and a new antihero, the Red Hood. The first trade paperback collects issues 1 to 6, but doesn’t resolve everything. Even if you bought the individual issues, the collected edition is a good investment to avoid the ugly, intrusive ads. I look forward to the rest of the series; so far it’s a wild ride.

In the wake of my book-feeding frenzy for the Tournament of Books, I decided to catch up on comic books. While I’ve shifted from buying monthly title to buying collected graphic novels for most books, there are a few I won’t wait for, and Ed Brubaker’s noir and pulp series like Incognito and Criminal are among them. Not only are they on high quality paper with strong art from Sean Phillips, but there are no intrusive ads, there’s an informative author page in the back, and a noir/pulp related article. Neither of the latter are in the collections; Brubaker calls them the canvas goodie bag reward for those of us who buy the single issues, and I’m happy to do so. The quality of the story, art, and back matter is of the highest in comics.

During a break from the ongoing series Criminal, Brubaker and Phillips launched Incognito, about an unhappy guy in witness protection. The twist is he was a super villain, and got his powers taken away and witness protection for giving evidence against his former boss, The Black Death. In a nod to The Matrix, his fake last name is Anderson. In a nod to indie-comics great Harvey Pekar, he’s an angry file clerk. The topsy turvy ethics of the book, along with its dark humor, make it fast, bumpy, enjoyable ride. A sequel series is due this summer, 2010.

After Incognito, Brubaker and Phillips returned to the world of their Criminal series with “The Sinners“, and returning character Tracy Lawless. Tracy’s a killer, but only of those who deserve it. This is a slippery place to be, and Tracy doesn’t exactly finesse it. He’s having an affair with the boss’s wife, can’t figure out who is killing the boss’s peers, and has a guy from his past on his tail trying to drag him back where he came from. Things don’t end pretty, but there’s a lot to satisfy in this story. I don’t think we’ll be seeing Tracy again, at least for a while, but I was glad to consume this story in one fell swoop, having bought the issues but not read them till now, when the story was complete.

These are for fans of noir, pulp, crime, and comics. Violent and dark, they’re not for everybody. But if you like what Brubaker and Phillips do, you’re going to like most of what they do, so check them out, if any of this sounds like a good thing to you.