Archive for the ‘Column’ Category

New Site, New Direction. Sort Of…

Monday, July 26th, 2010 by Carl Doherty under Column

Last week I decided to give the writing a break and redesign shelfabuse.com from scratch. The idea was to design the site around a pile of notebooks and sketchpads strewn across a tabletop; this new look would stand out from the crowd, and emphasise the more personal direction I planned to take the site in.

One week later and things haven’t turned out quite how I’d planned. Somewhere long the way, you see, I realised that I currently spend a good portion of my spare time fucking around with this site’s design. Which would be justifiable if it ever looked stunning, but it doesn’t.

So back to basics it is, then, and I’m now glad I opted for something simple. Not least because the whole sketchpad idea looked like something from the late 90s, but because a slicker aesthetic hopefully places emphasis on the words and images on this site, rather than the fancy CSS borders around them.

A simpler design also allows me to devote more time to my own comic book projects. Somewhere along the way I’d lost track of where I was heading, and spent my precious free time churning out countless reviews when I should have been manifesting my own fabrications. The reviews will continue, naturally, but hopefully a bit more of “me,” whoever that is, will make it to the digital page.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be integrating my own webcomic, The Scribe, into the site, as well as providing a weekly cartoon, and I’d finally just like to thank anyone who submitted their work to shelfabuse.com over the last few years. The indie comic scene has inspired me in ways that were unfathomable when I first started blogging.

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Farewell My Beautiful Black Greyhound

Tuesday, April 20th, 2010 by Carl Doherty under Column

I’m going to begin this with two apologies. Firstly, I’d like to say sorry to all those who’ve sent me books in the past few weeks and have yet to see a review materialise. Secondly, I’d like to apologise for breaking the one rule I’ve adhered to since creating this blog/site: that I’d keep my own life in the background and concentrate entirely on the funny books and other forms of fiction.

But hey, we make ’em to break ’em. And it’s my bloody site after all.

Last week I lost my beloved companion and four-legged muse of the last ten years, Kez. Kez was a gentle, affectionate soul, a tiny black greyhound that won the hearts of all that met her. She wasn’t a retired greyhound by definition, in that she’d never actually made it to the tracks, but had been born the runt of a racing litter and treated so cruelly by her breeders that she was covered in deep scars and had a broken tail, a warped spine and teeth so crooked that she couldn’t fully close her mouth.

Contray to popular belief, grehounds are not the most energetic of dogs

Contrary to popular belief, greyhounds are not the most energetic of dogs

But this external ugliness didn’t stop Kez from being the happiest being to have ever graced my life. Perhaps due to the horrendous conditions she suffered through her first year of life, she truly appreciated the affection we gave her, and would follow my every movement like a fuzzy four-legged shadow. She’d listen intently to every word I said and, presumably due to her brutal beginnings, was one of the craftiest, cheekiest scamps you could ever possibly meet. Keeping your place on the sofa often became a battle of wits. She bore no ill will to the species that had caused her such suffering and absolutely adored children, but her past had given her a fear of her own canine kind.

Last week Kez’s breathing became erratic, and what should have been a standard trip to the vets ended her life when she reacted poorly to an antibiotic injection and suffered a severe seizure. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of trust in her aged, clouded eyes as she looked at up me and raised her front paw, expecting me to help her, when all I could do was sign away her life.

Kez with her best friend Dessie, who passed away several years ago

Kez with her best friend Dessie, who passed away several years ago

And I’ve been unable to write since. Or read. Or even eat with any degree of passion. Perhaps that’s why I’m writing this, hoping that producing an epitaph for my beautiful brown-eyed girl will help me over at least one of the hurdles of grievance. Those who’ve never had dogs will likely scoff; those who have gone through the same thing will know my pain. Kez wasn’t just a dog, or just a pet. She was a member of my family, a best friend and a unique personality, with her own habits, nuances and tastes (and I’m not just referring to her bizarre love for broccoli).

But while Kez’s death continues to upset me, I can take console in the fact that I gave a dog who was once considered deposable livestock a loving home for much of her life. She was adored, she knew it, and she appreciated every bit of affection. It breaks my heart to think of the thousands of other greyhounds that aren’t so lucky. Many animal charities believe that only one in every four or five greyhounds finds a home. The rest suffer all manner of heinous fates.

Kez the beautiful black greyhound

Kez the beautiful black greyhound... with lazer eyes!

I don’t believe in an afterlife, or that life is anything but a series of random events, but I do know that Kez brightened up a portion of my life, and I’ll never forget her. Several years back I planned out a children’s novel that would deal with the darkest depths of greyhound racing, a sort of cross between Brave New World, Animal Farm and The Shawshank Redemption written entirely from a variety of greyhounds’ perspectives; a book that children will not only cherish but look back upon during adulthood and hopefully take action against these atrocities. Now I know I have to go the distance with this idea.

I’m aware that sob story accounts about outstanding pooches in the Marley & Me mould are the literary fad of the moment, but I feel that this is a story that needs to be told, focusing on an area of dog breeding that is too often brushed aside in favour of feel-good tripe. I’m aware that Michael Morpurgo has already written something ostensibly similar, and I’m sure it’s very good, but it still appears to follow those clichés a little too closely for my liking. And I know that my research will take me in horrifying directions – the main reason I abandoned the tale several years back – but I’ve always known that I’d eventually have to write this book.

Now for the shameless plug: any small publishers (or even big ones) willing to take up the challenge and publish my book? Three months is all it will take me. I’ll even give my share to a small greyhound charity that will use it to home and feed more of these elegant, long-legged couch potatoes. Kez may no longer keep the foot of my bed warm, but she’ll continue to inspire me for as long as I live.

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Controversial Categories – Why We Should All Read More Independent Comics

Thursday, December 11th, 2008 by Carl Doherty under Column

We’ve all opted for the obvious option at some point in time, and stuck with what we’ve known. Most of us do it every day, in the smallest of ways. We’ve all ordered steak and chips from the menu when we know we really should have sampled something more exotic. We’ve all sat in a multiplex full of slack-jawed yokels, watching a derivative horror movie, deploring ourselves for passing on that quaint indie movie.

Ask any comic book or graphic novel enthusiast and I’m sure they’ll tell you that they probably don’t read enough independent books. Why would they want to when Marvel and DC line the shelves with so many quality titles? Titles with recognisable characters that we all know and love; Batman, Superman, Spider-man, X-Men… titles with movie franchises!

Admittedly, the mainstream comic industry has changed somewhat since the days of Stan Lee. Mainstream writers have far more freedom to tell the stories they want to tell, and while imprints such as Vertigo and Marvel MAX do not permit the sort of content that may lurk in the more explicit genres, there is room for mature storytelling by purest definition.

Occasionally an independent comic creator such as Daniel Clowes will draw the spotlight, albeit often briefly. But this is often with the aid of other media, such as film or television, or in the case of four radioactively enhanced turtles, children’s animation. Movies such as American Splendor, Crumb and Ghost World may bring long-deserved attention to their creators, but one must wonder what small percentage of the indie-curious branches out beyond these promulgated names?

And to be objective, there is a lot of substandard independent work that is published and promoted by talentless enthusiasts with deep pockets. There is also a fair amount of exploitative, pornographic (be it sexual imagery or gratuitous violence) to be found in some of the more controversial categories. For some the Big M may represent a reassurance of some minimum level of quality.

Anyone who has ventured from the comfort zone of the mainstream will be able to tell you of that unique sense of involvement and joy to be had from watching a creative talent blossom. Don’t believe me?  Pick up Jar of Fools by Jason Lutes, Jeff Smith’s Bone, Terry Moore’s Strangers in Paradise or Dave Sim’s Cerebus the Aardvark, and observe the progression and evolution of their work, in both their art and their prowess as storytellers. Like first-time novelists these guys have travelled a journey of discovery alongside their creations.

There’s a certain coarse intimacy to be had with a book such as Scott Morse’s Barefoot Serpent that the mainstream comic industry, with its robust teams of editors, writers, artists, inkers, colourists and letterers will never collectively compete with. The comic medium has allowed Morse the opportunity to present us his story, his vision, untainted by conventional formats, commercial trends or contemptible publishing strategies. By buying that independent book you are helping a home-grown talent find their strength while lining the pocket of the little guy, the visionary and the closest the comic book industry has to a literary writer.

The internet has also opened up opportunities for aspiring artists and writers to present the world their comics in digital format. Most of these are crudely drawn, juvenile drivel, but there will always be a few diamonds in that proverbial pile. It’s the duty of anyone who has a genuine love for the comic book and graphic novel mediums to find these future classics and spread the word.

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Graphic Novel Reviews – The Problem with Comic Book Critique

Tuesday, December 9th, 2008 by Carl Doherty under Column

Comic book and graphic novel criticism is rarely found outside of niche publications such as Wizard, or the many fan-driven sites that litter the web. Occasionally a mainstream newspaper will publish an article on the medium as a whole, or offer a retrospective on an under-appreciated author, usually Alan Moore; but for the most part it is rare to come across comic reviews in any shape or form. I used to believe that this was simply down to media prejudice – and largely it probably is – but when I decided to dedicate my precious spare time to the joys of graphic novel criticism, I soon learnt that the “funny books” were far from the easiest medium to offer an objective evaluation of.

In the era of Stan Lee, comic plots rarely extended beyond an issue. The Fantastic Four would thwart Doctor Doom’s plans for world domination and still be home in time to laugh at the Thing’s working class idiosyncrasies. While this limited the writers somewhat, it did allow for episodic adventures that were entirely self-contained. Casual readers could pick up the occasional issue and never be far behind the soap opera antics of their favourite characters. Of course, pre-80s comics were considered an enjoyable but disposable pastime. Most were binned after being read, and forgotten soon after.

Naturally, things have changed. Sequential art is now accepted as an art form, though whether such an acceptance entails any benefits is another matter altogether. The contemporary comic book has become a far slower affair, with the sort of storyline that would have filled a single issue back in the sixties now stretched across several. While this makes for far superior graphic novel narratives, it does alienate the casual reader, and leaves the regular collector dangling on tenterhooks before the serial has had time to resume. More importantly, this approach to serial storytelling has rendered the reviewing of individuals comic issues a little pointless – who reviews the first half of a film, or a television drama only up to the first commercial break?

Of course, we could leave the reviews until our favourite series are collected in trade paperback format, but this approach is equally problematic. Many series have reached double digit number of volumes. Should each volume of The Sandman, The Walking Dead, or Y: The Last Man be reviewed individually, or should the series be critiqued as a whole? If comic book critics were to wait until a series had concluded before laying down their position, then very few new books would get the endorsement that quality appraisal offers.

Of course, there are no answers here. The comic medium will continue to suffer the prejudice of literary circles, and isolate those with only a passing interest. But I love the fact that any individual can have his say on the internet, and would rather be guided by the opinions of another comic enthusiast than the tepid, uninspired drivel from a mainstream film or video game magazine that has temporarily jumped aboard the superhero zeitgeist. With or without mainstream attention, the comic book appears to be stuck comfortably in its niche. Is that such a bad thing?

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Are Comics Books?

Saturday, December 6th, 2008 by Carl Doherty under Column

Okay, so that’s a stupid question. Or at least it may initially sound like one. In terms of publication and distribution, and their dependency on advertisements, comics are clearly magazines by definition. Which would then make graphic novels compiled magazines… which they are clearly (I hope) not.

But the fact is that “comic book” is a dirty term in the art world. And though the work of people such as Daniel Clowes, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman and too many other fine writers to mention, has done much to remedy this, the comic is still looked upon with disdain. Libraries and schools live in fear of the day that little Timmy is lured in by the colourful pictures of his first graphic novel, and vows never to read another novel again. Which is stupid, of course; the majority of those who read graphic novels are also literature lovers.

And then there are the critics. Bookworms and concerned parents feared that their beloved tomes would become obsolete with the dawn of television. Only almost a century after its conception was cinema embraced as a valuable art form. The video game, a medium still in its infancy, is currently being subjected to the same media prejudice that faced the feel good movies of the 1920s. But whereas devotees and aficionados are willing to discuss the video game medium, and argue as to whether it qualifies as high art, the same question is rarely focused on comics. This could be that, since the comic medium’s maturity in the late sixties through to the mid-eighties, comics have been critically appreciated in a new, if not particularly bright, light.

Weary media lecturers will bore their students about the potential of “sequential art,” but these academics rarely raise interest in anything other than the obvious award-winning “worthy” choices – Maus, Persepolis and the works of Scott McCloud, Harvey Pekar and Robert Crumb. All great starting points, of course, but any who dares to mention superhero books in such lessons will likely receive only scornful glares. Perhaps this is because comics, for the most part, share the shelves with that most unfairly treated of literary genres: Science Fiction and Fantasy. Works such as The Sandman, Watchmen, Strangers in Paradise and Cerebus the Aardvark are too often viewed as little more than fantastical nonsense for preoccupied adolescents. And as long as their creators continue to be imaginative and original, striving to push the boundaries of contemporary fiction, this is unlikely to change.

A friend told me not long ago that he’d read everything ever written by Alan Moore, but refused to read a graphic novel by any other author. I find it baffling that one could get so much enjoyment from the comic book medium yet have no desire to take that interest further. I wanted to tell him to read something else. Write him a list of recommendations, even.

But instead I kept my mouth shut. His loss, I figured.

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“Lucas Raped My Childhood” – The Inevitable Disappointment of Indiana Jones

Sunday, May 25th, 2008 by Carl Doherty under Column

I came prepared.

The nineteen year wait was over. The forth Indiana Jones movie was here. I knew it featured in some level of depth Kingdoms and Crystal Skulls, both of which I had already extensively researched in frantic preparation. I’d donned my finest fedora, packed my favourite whip and hammered my youthful features with a large rock. Just to get that weathered 65 year old look, y’know?

Again, I was prepared.

At least that’s the way it would have happened were Indy 4 to have debuted when it was supposed to, some 10 years ago. Since I’ve had my heart broken by numerous sequelicious cinema excursions – I think the Matrix sequels actually did more damage to my movie going optimism than The Phantom Menace ever could – I have progressively shunned all hype, ignored all posters and merchandise, and been apprehensive of all glossy trade paperbacks.

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

No, gentle reader, I entered Kingdom of the Crystal Skull with absolutely zero expectations. No hope for anything remarkable, no desire to relive the magic of my youth. I entered that cinema emotionally dead inside.

It was preparation of a sort.

And so far, I seem to be the only person in my meagre social circle that didn’t hate the movie. I didn’t love the movie, either, but I left the three hours of darkness a happy bunny. Okay, a content bunny with a sore behind.

Sure the movie had its fair share of dire moments – the Tarzan scene proved that Jar Jar Binks wasn’t the biggest abomination Lucas could magic with the powers of CGI – but it felt like a Jones movie, far more then Temple of Doom ever had.

But the criticisms flooded in nevertheless. “It was cheesy and far-fetched” is my personal favourite. Have these people not seen the Last Crusade?

And folks clearly had difficulty with the aliens. So the possibility of other sentient life on one of the other estimated 4 trillion planets in our galaxy alone possessing the technology to visit our humble rock is more ludicrous than the concept of a cup that bestows immortality upon those who drink from it because it once belonged to the son of some guy (Joe, I believe his name was) who built the earth and every critter upon it with his bare hands in just seven days?

I guess people were so desperately looking for cracks in Crystal Skull that they didn’t take the time to look beyond the nostalgic haze and sit through the previous films with the same zealous condemnation that has every bitter cinemaphile and junk culture moron on this planet believing they can, and should, be a critic.

I’m aware how hypocritical that last paragraph sounds. But I never set out to demolish a film or book when I review it; in fact, I rarely leaving the cinema without feeling that whatever I just watched had no redeeming features whatsoever. No film is perfect, nor should it be.

I guess the point I was at some point planning on returning to was that people went into Crystal Skull intent on hating it. I’m sure they all had their reasons, many of which undoubtedly stem from the preciousness of nostalgia; we love to keep our memories intact. When big bad Hollywood tramples the daisies of our recollected youth, we take offence. But it is, as much as it grieves me to say this, only a film.

And also, I thought the CGI gophers were kind of cute… actually, I think I’d best leave it there.

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The Comic Book Crisis

Monday, August 13th, 2007 by Carl Doherty under Column

I have seen the future, and it’s dark…

It’s 2018. Little Timmy Carbuncle and Jeremiah Hangnail exit the cinema, fleshly bedazzled by the lurid colours of Spider-man 7, in which our favourite webslinger battles a symbiote-possessed Aunt May.

“That was proper rad,” says little Timmy Carbuncle. “I can’t believe we have to wait three more years until the eighth movie. If only there were some way we could inject more Spider-man into our tiny, unfulfilled lives.”

“Well, Spider-man is apparently based on something called a comic book,” Jeremiah Hangnail informs him. “They used to be quite popular once, with shops that would specialise in these action-packed pamphlets alone. According to legend, there were thousands of Spider-man comics, telling adventures far grander than cinema audiences could possibly comprehend.”

Now this piques little Timmy in a way like never before. He decides to venture forth and find these intriguing paper-based adventures. Three months later, he’s amounted a modest collection of Spider-man comics – everything post-sixties is now considered valueless by the medium’s few surviving collectors – and he loves them. But what Timmy Carbuncle is unable to understand is why the comic industry collapsed as swiftly as it did. Spider-man 7 broke box office records, and Heroes: The Next Generation is the most popular show in America.

“There was no need for them anymore,” Hangnail explains, while they wait to see Star Trek XII: Kirk’s Kindergarten Years. “People loved the ideal of the comic book, but had no desire to read one.”

“Why would we?” an intrusive queue-jumper adds. “If I want superheroes, I’ll go to the cinema.”

2028. A decade later, and the words of that repugnant queue-jumper still ricochet through Timmy Carbuncle’s diaphragm. You see, after 2021’s Spider-man 8, there were no more Spidey movies. Likewise the Batman, Superman and X-Men franchises. The material had run dry, the source material mined as far as artistically possible. The superhero movie was dead.

Baffled by the death of the capes n’ tights genre, Hollywood scratches its head and moves on, initiating a trend in operatic westerns. The comic adaptation is resuscitated several times, but finds little monetary success. Having lived childhoods devoid of comic books, the youth demographic lacks the nostalgic affection for gaudy spandex and dastardly villains. To them, it’s all a bit silly.

2038. An older, embittered Timmy Carbuncle takes his two sons to the Museum of Sequential Art. “What are these things?” Sprat Carbuncle asks, spitting choco-chunks across a copy of Squadron Supreme #1. “They don’t move, light up, or say anything.”

“These are what children once looked at for fun,” Timmy sighs, “or so I’m told.”

The year is 2039. Like a bitter conservationist retrospectively pondering the extinction of a rare species, Jimmy Carbuncle compiles a list of things that could have prevented the death of the comic book. Oh, if only they’d listened!

NOTE: For reasons unknown, Carbuncle composed this list in the present tense, imaging it from the fictitious perspective of concerned 2007 everyman Jack Spritt Jr.

1. Make trade paperbacks accessible

Jack Spritt Jr passes the graphic novel section of his library and picks up a Superman book. Twelve pages in, and he has no idea what its happening. Closer inspection reveals it to be the fifth in a larger series. Baffled, he looks for an indication, a series title perhaps, or a number on the spine. No such luck.

Image does a fine job with its recent graphic novels; titles such as Invincible and The Walking Dead have separate colour schemes and layouts, distinctive spine designs, and are clearly labelled. Marvel and DC (Vertigo excluded) do quite the opposite. The British printing of teen super-soap Runaways makes no suggestion whatsoever of its serial nature. A potential young fan (supposedly the book’s prime market) will pick up volume two by accident, have no idea what is happening, and move on.

2. Info in each book

It never ceases to amaze Jack Spritt Jr how few publishers bother to print a synopsis or character list at the beginning of each trade paperback, or even monthly comic. One page of relevant information is all it takes for him to enter the action clued-up and confident. A list of related readings would also help Jack know what to read next.

3. Less is more

Make no mistake, every comic buyer is, in their heart a completist. Jack Spritt Jr is no exception; he yearns for a collection of complete runs only. So imagine what it must be like for poor Jack as he marches into his local comic store intent on collecting Spider-man, only to discover there is not one monthly book but five. Overwhelmed, he flees the store, dripping his lemon sorbet across a stack of Elfquest back issues. To this day, the incident haunts him.

“One title per character, per month. Create new franchises rather then milk old ones,” Jack screams sporadically at the night sky. At least DC listens to fans; Marvel is content to cancel every new title before it reaches double figures. The major sellers have become the literary equivalent of Reality TV; sloppy, disposable productions churned out regularly but devoid of artistic merit.

4. Timing is everything

With the exception of the Ultimate universe, there is little effort from “the big two” to capitalise on their franchises’ cinematic success. Record stores should be encouraged to place relevant trade paperbacks beside the DVD releases; today’s kids do want to read, they just don’t know it. The Sin City books sold well following the film’s success because they were within their own accessible universe, and the miniature reprints made Jack Spritt Jr’s heart tighten ecstatically like a clenched fist.

5. The simple life

The Ultimate Marvel universe was a brilliant idea, executed at precisely the right time. Five years later and the imprint, once a simple but efficient contemporisation of Jack’s favourite books, has become as convoluted and inaccessible as its regular counterpart. And with Batmania back in fashion, what have DC done to pique interest in their franchise? Nothing. Grant Morrison’s All Star Superman is godly, but is still no substitute for a simpler, more approachable Superman tale for all ages which could be widely distributed in trade paperback format.

6. Shrink the Big Events

As much as we nerdlings like to whine about Civil War and 52, the comic industry would be a far smaller place without the annual Big Event. Jack’s only beef with them is the overabundance of tie-ins that must infect the arcs of every other book. JM Straczynski is a great writer, but his work on Spider-man is hindered by a need to integrate the webslinger into each month’s big thing.

Not only do these tie-ins ultimately dissuade buyers, they ruin the trade paperback resale value. Suddenly, the nine volume epic our undeterred Jack Spritt Jr has accumulated baffles him; apparently he should have read five other GNs before commencing volume eight.

7. Don’t rely on collectors

No more variant covers, though the Director’s Cut reprints are a great idea. Aspiring comic author Jack Spritt Jr thinks script extracts are a great idea, but should be printed to separate books.

8. Less celebrity writers, more good writers

Every big creative name in Hollywood seems to be writing comics now. Granted, Kevin Smith, Joss Whedon and J.M. Straczynski would obviously produce something special. But John Woo? Guy Richie? Richard Donner? Woo’s Seven Brothers is clearly the work of Garth Ennis, Richie’s Gamekeeper is uninspired, and Donner’s Superman is a poor substitute for Brubaker’s.

Of course, new and unknown talent isn’t going to bring in the same level of attention… at first. Gaiman, Moore, Ennis and Ellis all had to start somewhere. When the celebrity trend has fizzled out, the comic industry will suffer from a dearth of new talent, and young scribe Jack Spritt Jr will be malnourished from years of redundancy.

9. Daniel Clowes good, Mighty Avengers bad

An escalating level of elitism from the fan community threatens to engulf the industry. Many times has Jack Spritt Jr seen a blameless, loving parent dismantled by his local comic vendor for asking where the Sonic the Hedgehog comics are. As loyal supporters of the genre, Jack believes we should encourage sales of all comic books, regardless of their target demographic.

Jack Spritt Jr may only read Mighty Avengers and Dragonball right now, but give him time, one day he’ll encounter Watchmen. Then his adventures will really begin…

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