Schrödinger's Bookshelf

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Archive for category Graphic Novels & Picture Books

Baltimore: or The Steadfast Tin Soldier and the Vampire, by Mike Mignola and Christopher Golden (Bantam Spectra, 2007)

Jul 21

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Historical, Urban Fantasy, Vampires | No Comments

In the darkest days of World War I, Lord Henry Baltimore, then a Captain in the English Army, watches his men fall in battle. Himself injured, he barely fights off a nocturnal predator, and in doing so, unleashes the unholy wrath of a vampire, and sparks a disturbing plague across Europe.

Years later, as the plague ravishes the continent, three of Baltimore’s closest allies — Captain Demetrius Aischros, Doctor Lemuel Rose, and Mister Thomas Childres, Junior — are summoned to a lonely, foreboding inn where they are to await Baltimore’s arrival. There, surrounded by the stench of death and those waiting to die, the three men trade stories. One by one, they fill in the vital gaps in Baltimore’s history, each man having encountered Baltimore at some point or another, quickly realizing that their old friend and colleague has changed, and not for the better. One by one, they relate eerie stories of their encounters with the horrific and the supernatural, the experiences which made them ready to believe Baltimore’s grim story of vampires and evil stalking humanity. And then, as they learn more of Baltimore’s obsession and hopeless quest to rid the world of the vampire which cursed him, they’re drawn into an epic struggle for survival, one which will leave them changed forever.

Baltimore is a spooky, atmospheric, Gothic series of interwoven tales that’s sure to make an impression upon the reader. From the nightmarish, disjointed beginning among the bloodsoaked trenches of World War I, to an inn haunted by the barely living, to the violent, heartbreaking conclusion, it paints a gruesome picture of the darker corners of the world. It actually invokes an old, time-honored storytelling convention, that of the group of people sitting around swapping their own tales, something which could easily become tiresome, were it not handled by such a skilled creative team. Sin trees, evil giant puppets, vampires, lake-dwelling abominations, a disgraced priest, cursed soldiers and vengeful spirits all have their parts to play here, interspersed with imagery and quotations drawn from the titular fairy tale, “The Steadfast Tin Soldier.”

At first, I was dubious about this book. Christopher Golden is an excellent writer with a mastery of dark fantasy and horror, while Mike Mignola, best known for his Hellboy comics, has a unique visual style, but this seemed to be something of an experiment for them both. The prologue, in which Baltimore meets his supernatural nemesis, is not the easiest part of the book to get through, but upon reflection, it really does capture the bloody, vicious, haunting moment in style. However, it was my biggest stumbling block in getting into the story. Once we were introduced to the Surgeon, the Sailor, and the Soldier (as the chapter headings address the three) and their stories were allowed to unfold, I was swiftly drawn into the narrative. Each man gets two stories: one dealing with his experiences with Baltimore, the other with a previous encounter with the supernatural, and in that manner, I was reminded of a bizarre modern-day invocation of the Canterbury Tales. The stories are imaginative, memorable, and disturbing, as the men speak of the evils they’ve survived (for there’s very little vanquishing to be found here), and drawn from from various cultural influences to make for a wide-ranging tapestry. Baltimore’s own narrative, told in the form of diary entries, is just as chilling in its own way, as he attempts to rid the world of vampires. Festooned with guns and swords and other weapons, his wooden leg covered with nails to symbolize his victories to date, he’s an ominous, imposing hero, a vampire hunter who would make one hell of a visual for a film or animated feature, especially when given the opportunity to cut loose in battle.

Mignola’s artwork is liberally splashed across the pages throughout the book. It’s a unique visual style, moody and bleak, relying on heavy use of shadows to suggest, rather than show through details. I wish there had been more full-page pieces, for many of the smaller images which serve to amplify the words on the page are simply too small, and don’t satisfy the imagination like the larger ones do. One full-page depiction of Baltimore himself in shadow is quite stunning indeed.

Golden and Mignola make a good team, as witnessed by their previous collaborations (Golden’s written a few Hellboy novels) and Baltimore is certainly a success for them both. It may have its flaws, but all in all, once I got into it, I couldn’t stop reading, eager to find out what manner of twisted horror would be thrown at the characters next, and whether they’d see a victory over the vampires terrorizing the world. All I can say that for these men, a happily ever after isn’t entirely on the books, even if they do survive the final encounter. So despite my initial hesitations regarding this book, I’m happy to say that Baltimore is well worth checking out, especially if you happen to like your stories dark, disturbing, and Gothic.

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The Books of Magic Collection

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Urban Fantasy, Young Adult | No Comments

The Books of Magic, by Neil Gaiman and John Bolton (Vertigo, 1990-1991)
The Books of Magic: The Invitation, by Carla Jablonski (Eos, 2003)
The Books of Magic: Bindings, by Carla Jablonski (Eos, 2003)

In 1990, a literary predecessor of Harry Potter came onto the scene, long before anyone had heard of Hogwarts or Voldemort. Originally published as a four-part graphic novel series, adeptly written by Neil Gaiman and illustrated masterfully by John Bolton, The Books of Magic was intended as an exploration of the past, present, and future of the DC Comics universe from a magical perspective.

Thirteen-year-old British schoolboy Timothy Hunter, an awkward, bespectacled young man living alone with his crippled, depressive father, is approached by a quartet of trench-coated strangers, who give him the once-in-a-lifetime chance to learn about magic. And so Tim takes the chance. Guided in turn by the enigmatic Phantom Stranger, the rakish John Constantine (who stars in his own comic, Hellblazer), the introspective Doctor Occult (notably one of the first comic heroes, preceding Superman in appearance) and the fanatical blind Mister E., Tim is taken on a journey of discovery, magic, and danger. From the beginnings of the universe, to the myth of Atlantis, to the cave of Merlin as a young man, to the Burning Times when magic was persecuted, Tim learns how it all came about. John Constantine takes him on a tour of magic in the modern day, introducing him to another DC Comics staple, the beautiful Zatanna. Doctor Occult and his other self, Rose, show Tim the other worlds out there, including the treacherously lovely lands of Faerie. And Mister E. takes Tim into the future, as far as the end of time, where Death herself (a favorite of many Sandman readers) waits. Brilliant and beautiful, the original Books of Magic remains a graphic novel masterpiece, on par with any of Gaiman’s Sandman stories or Stardust.

In 1994, Tim Hunter returned in his own ongoing comic book series, initially written by John Ney Reiber. Chronicling the slow education of Tim, destined to be one of the greatest magicians in the world and to play a major part either for good or evil in the years to come, the Books of Magic series saw him dealing with dangers internal and external, wrestling with the nature of his true identity and parentage, and journeying to worlds as vast and dangerous as Faerie, and America. He found and lost love, freed and destroyed worlds, confronted his evil self, bargained with demons and succubi and angels, and ultimately graduated to the next phase of his education. Though that series ended after six years and seventy-five issues, it did result in several spinoffs, The Books of Faerie, each miniseries looking at the rise and/or fall of Titania, Auberon, and Molly, the first two the erstwhile rulers of Faerie and the last Tim’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, caught up in events beyond her control. Another miniseries, The Names of Magic, written by Dylan Horrocks, saw Tim seeking his true name, so he could enroll in the mysterious, world-spanning White School, sort of a Hogwarts on multi-dimensional acid for the college level. This, in turn, was followed by Hunter: The Age of Magic, a currently ongoing series that follows a more grown-up and mature Timothy Hunter. On one level, and to do both Hunter and Potter a serious injustice, I could easily say that any of the above series are the closest you’ll come to seeing Harry Potter in comic book format. But they’re really quite different, exploring different themes and stories. Which brings me to the true point of this essay.

For whatever reasons, DC has decided that now is the perfect time to release Young Adult novel/adapations of the Books of Magic, starting at the very beginning with the Gaiman series. Adapted into novel format by author Carla Jablonski, the first volume in the series retells the four issues detailing Tim’s initial foray into the worlds of magic, while the second retells the first four issues of the first ongoing series, which has also been reprinted as a trade paperback under the name Books of Magic: Bindings. Both books are already out in stores, and I eagerly sought them out, confident that they’d be faithful and worthy versions of stories I’d read numerous times since they first came out.

I was both right and wrong. Carla Jablonski was indeed faithful to the source material, perhaps to a fault. While the books do go into more detail and introspection on the part of certain key characters, such as Tim Hunter, and they add in a bit more background scenery, they really don’t break out of the original mold. Worse still, while they’re quite descriptive and atmospheric, they don’t come close to capturing the eerie, lifelike resonance and the subtle tones of Bolton’s artwork. If you’ve seen the original comics, the book just don’t hold up. And to my mind, the story feels, well, dumbed down a little for the targeted age group, as if afraid to stick to its guns. Missing are scenes both small and large, leaving gaping holes where the experienced reader and pre-existing fan is concerned, and what worked well in graphic format seems lacking in text format. Successful novelizations of comic books are possible (see Gaiman’s own adaptation of Stardust or Elliot S! Maggin’s exploration of Mark Waid and Alan Ross’s Kingdom Come as prime examples) so it’s hard to imagine why I came off feeling so deflated after reading Jablonski’s first two efforts.

I commend her for her efforts, and I do allow that for younger readers, and for those not already exposed to the original material, these are perfectly acceptable, though they don’t possess the same compelling nature of complexities of many YA books in the same class (such as Harry Potter or the Young Wizards series by Diane Duane). The only real way I can feel good about recommending the novelizations of The Invitation and Bindings is as a stepping-stone towards reading the source material as it was intended. Hopefully, Jablonski or whoever continues to adapt the series, will be given more freedom or confidence to add her own touches to the stories. As a fan, I’ll continue to check out these YA adapations, but I’m seriously afraid that they’ll fail to capture either existing fans, or those looking for a Harry Potteresque fix. Do yourselves a favor and look for the originals, which have been reprinted a number of times in convenient and classy trade paperback editions.

Stan Lee and the Rise and Fall of the American Comic Book, by Jordan Raphael and Tom Spurgeon (Chicago Review Press, 2003)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Non-Fiction & Reference, Superheroes | No Comments

He’s a shameless huckster, an unrepentant storyteller, a charming old man, a never-say-die opportunist whose career has spanned decades, following the ebb and flow of the comic book industry in America. He’s a modern-day P.T. Barnum, part writer and part con man, but so loveable in his over-the-top mannerisms it’s hard to stay mad at him for long. He’s Stan Lee, and this is his story.

However, to tell the story of Stan Lee is to chronicle the history of comic books in America, starting in 1940 and continuing right up to the modern day. To tell his story, one has to also look at the other legends in the field: Jack Kirby, John Romita, Steve Ditko, and so many more. To speak of Stan Lee is to talk about Marvel Comics, and its earlier incarnations. For all of those stories are intertwined.

Who doesn’t know Stan Lee? His name was on every comic book to come out of Marvel for decades, as writer, as editor, as publisher, or as their ambassador to the world. “Stan Lee Presents….” was the tagline for Marvel back in the day, until very recently indeed. He’s been the guy to interview for just as long, the so-called creator of the Marvel universe, the creative genius who gave birth to Spider-Man, the Hulk, the Fantastic Four, Daredevil, and the X-Men. His catchphrases are legendary: “‘Nuff said!” “Face front, true believer!” and “Excelsior!”

But who is Stan Lee? Even he admits that the stories of his youth are a tad exaggerated, a touch fabricated at times. Never one to let reality get in the way of a good story, he’s rewritten his own history to play up his destiny as a writer. Certainly, reality is a little slippery where he’s concerned. What part did he really play in the history of comic books? How much of the Marvel Universe was his creation, and how much can be attributed to the other talents involved?

Those are all questions Jordan Raphael and Tom Spurgeon set out to answer in their definitive biography of Stan the Man. Drawing from articles, interviews, and other sources, they’ve laid out the life and times of Stan Lee (born Stanley Lieber), weaving the threads of his story in with the evolution of the comic book field, from its glory days during World War Two, to the social repression of the Fifties, all the way through the dark days of the Eighties and Nineties, to today. This book is just as much about the comic field in general, and Marvel Comics in particular, as it is about Stan Lee. Fact-heavy and well-written, its engaging writing style keeps things moving right along, never bogging down in the details. Clearly, the authors know their material; it takes a certain amount of familiarity with the industry to properly convey the impact of a man who was there almost from the start.

Let’s lay it on the line. Stan Lee’s been in the business a long time. He combines the best and worst aspects of a sideshow barker, a used-car salesman, a Hollywood producer, and a writer. He’s spent so long hyping himself that he’s actually begun to believe it. Though he was instrumental in creating some of the best-known comic characters of the past forty years, he’s been milking the same cow for decades; all of his more recent attempts to capture lightning in a bottle have met with failure. Even his recent work for DC Comics, reinventing their characters, felt old, as though he was rehashing the past. At the same time he fronts for Marvel, acting as a spokesperson, he’s suing them for more money based on the results of certain blockbuster movies. He’s the trickster god of the comic geek pantheon, adept at playing himself on the silver screen (such as in Kevin Smith’s Mallrats) and always looking for the next big thing. Cursed with a short attention span, he can spew out comic plots, but can’t write a book. He’s been a hero in the comic industry, and he’s been a villain. He’s done some things he’s not proud of, and burned a few bridges along the way, alienating creative partners and industry professionals, and yet somehow, it’s never his fault. Much. He’s just Stan Lee.

And that’s what Stan Lee and the Rise and Fall of the American Comic Book is all about. The authors don’t shy away from pointing out the inconsistencies, the feet of clay, the mistakes he’s made. Even though they treat him with respect, they’re not afraid to point out Lee’s bad moments. Did he create the Marvel Universe, or just steal all the credit? Is he a genius, or just a guy in the right place at the right time with a knack for tapping into the right thing?

I’m a comic geek at heart. My collection takes up a significant part of the basement. I thought I knew a lot about the history of the field, and about Stan Lee. After reading this book, I know a lot more. Spurgeon and Raphael have done an excellent job of drawing from numerous sources to present a cohesive, coherent narrative covering the career of Stan Lee, and the ebb and flow of the industry he’s been an integral part of. For those who like comics, this is a great history book. For those who don’t know a thing about the field, this is a great introduction. Frankly, I was impressed with just how accessible it was overall. I recommend this book, and it’ll find a valued spot on my shelf with other comic reference books.

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Another Fairy Tale Omnibus Review

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Elves & Fairies, Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Fantasy, Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Non-Fiction & Reference | No Comments

The Faeries, by Suza Scalora (Joanna Cotler Books/Harpercollins, 1999)
The Faeryland Companion, by Beatrice Phillpotts (Barnes and Noble, 1999)
The Leprechaun Companion, by Niall Macnamara with Wayne Anderson (Barnes and Noble, 1999)
Gnomes, by Wil Huygen and Rien Poortvliet (Peacock Press/Bantam Books, 1979)
The Kingdom of the Dwarves, by Robb Walsh and David Wenzel (Centaur Books, 1980)
The Hobbit Companion, by David Day with Lidia Postman (Turner Publishing, 1997)
The Great Encyclopedia of Faeries, by Pierre Dubois with Claudine and Roland Sabatier (Simon and Schuster, 1999)
The Fairies’ Ring, by Jane Yolen with Stephen Mackey (Dutton Childrens’ Books, 1999)
 
 
“I have gone out and seen the lands of Faery,
    And have found sorrow and peace and beauty there,
And have not known one from the other, but found each
    Lovely and gracious alike, delicate and fair.”
        -”Dreams within Dreams” by Fiona Macleod
 
 
Open your eyes to the world around you.  There are things, there, living and hiding often in plain sight.  We know them by many names: The Fair Folk, fairies, gnomes, goblins, dwarves, brownies, elves, tommyknockers… the list is endless, with as many names for the creatures of fancy and myth as there are people to dream of them and tell their stories.  Are they real, or just figments of our imaginations, created to pass the time and explain away mysteries in a much more superstitious era?  That, I must say, is up to you to decide.  But gathered for your entertainment and approval are a handful of coffee table books, art books full of paintings, photography, stories, poems, and even scholarly analysis of the hidden world.
 
First up is an absolutely gorgeous little book, The Fairies, by Suza Scalora.  Detailed as “Photographic Evidence of the Existence of Another World,” it’s certainly easy to conclude from the photos within that fairies really do exist.  Presented with a playful sort of seriousness, it lays out each of the twenty-six entries, or “plates” in the same fashion.   On  the left page is the entry for the fairy in question, detailing their common name, other known names, the date and location of the particular sighting, and the season in which said fairy is most likely to be seen.  Following that is a short history of the creature, the particular lure used to bring it out into the open, and finally notes on the specific encounter.    On the right is a full-color glossy photograph of the fairy in its natural environment
 
Now, these aren’t your traditional fairies, the ones well-recorded throughout history.  These sport names like Ophelia, the Pearl-White Fairy, or Willow, the Silver Leaf Fairy.  They lurk in the woods of Georgia, a glacier in the Icelandic highlands, the lush valleys of Peru, Hawaii, or even the Neolithic goddess temples of Malta.  They embody fire and ice, air and sky, birds and trees.  Each one is unique and fantastical, playful and whimsical and capricious.  They can be lured by pencils, bright balloons, fireflies, salt, or even just simple trespass into their domains.  And they are elusive.
 
Of all of the books I’ve seen in putting this review together, The Fairies may be the most beautiful from an artistic standpoint.  The conscious mind may be secure knowing that the photos are all cleverly-doctored, involving humans in costume and makeup, but the child-like, magic-seeking part of me wanted to believe, if even for just a moment.  More than anything, this book captures the sheer alien nature of the fairies, the way they can be seen out of the corner of your eye, when the light and mood is just so.  I was initially attracted by the artistic value of this book, and I’m quite pleased by it.
 
While we’re on the subject of fairies, we’ll move along to Beatrice Phillpotts’ The Faeryland Companion.  This one seeks to be a more comprehensive look at fairies in history, art, and literature, starting with a look at fairies in their natural environments and ending with their role in art.
 
This is quite the informative book, really.  The very first entry lists over half a dozen different theories on the origins of the Fair Folk, from unforgiven souls to diminished pagan dieties.  It looks at the places they’re most commonly associated with: underground kingdoms, enchanted forests, even somewhere out in the ocean.  It examines them as tiny creatures and hulking giants, as creatures of enchantment and beings of mystery.  It details all of the customs traditionally associated with them, such as fairy rades or household assistance, or music and dance. There’s a section that tells about fairies and their interactions with humans, both benevolent and malevolent, from fairy godmothers to changeling children and even the time differential between their world and ours.  Finally, the section on art touches upon the Victorian fascination with fairies, the incident involving supposed photographic proof of fairies (which fooled just about everyone), and then ends with a look at that modern master himself, Brian Froud.
 
The Faeryland Companion is a well-constructed book, worth checking out for its wealth of lore and art, collected from many different sources.  While it doesn’t have the in-depth examination that some works might, it balances out information and accessability, and still comes out looking quite pretty.  It looks at them with a historical and popular sort of view, drawing in bits of poetry, Shakespearian quotes, Froud artwork, and more.  Definately a nice effort that doesn’t disappoint.
 
In that same vein, also released as a Barnes and Noble exclusive is The Leprechaun Companion by Niall Macnamara, illustrated by Wayne Anderson.  It does for leprechauns what Brian Froud’s Faeries did for, well, fairies.  However, this has a much more Celticentric angle to it, looking at the indiginous fairyland creatures which inhabit that part of the world.  It seeks to tell the truth of leprechauns, that they’re not always as cheerful as one might suppose; that indeed they can be quite cantanerous and capricious.  It has details on how to look for leprechauns, and also how to avoid them.  Though they go by many different names, from clurichauns to luchrymen, the book lumps them as leprechauns for ease of clarity. We go into the details of their society: food, work, courtship, dwellings, drink, even fashion.  We learn how to bottle them, and why it’s not always smart.  We learn about their holidays, games, music, and of course, magic.
 
Once we have the basics out of the way, the book happily goes into the details of the various leprechaun clans, which roughly divide themselves between the provinces of Ireland: Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught, ultimately overseen by the Sidhe, the kinglike race of the fairies descended from the primeval Tuatha de Danaan.  Each clan has its own defining characteristics and natures, as well as associated legends and tales. 
 
In the last chapter, we’re introduced to a host of leprechaun cousins, a motley assortment of Celtic creatures from myth and legend.  Merpeople, fir dearg, phouka (like our old friend from War For The Oaks!), brownies, redcaps, bwca, piskies, spriggans, and more.  Each one has a short description of nature and history, as well as an associated tale to accompany it.
 
This is a very nice book.  The artwork is appropriately stylized and whimsical, taking a more humorous, old-fashioned view of the creatures in question, slightly cartoonish without losing their dignity.  It’s nowhere near as evocative as Froud’s, but it certainly does the job quite well.  If you like Celtic myth and fairy tales, this book might be worth checking out. 
 
Since we’ve gotten onto the topic of scholarly volumes regarding creatures of myth, it’s only natural to skip next to Gnomes, a 1979 release from Wil Huygen and Rien Poortvliet which really did set the stage for many of these other books.  It has a distinctly European feel and bias to it, looking at the world of the woodland gnomes of Europe, Russia, and Siberia, but also branching out to discuss other related beings.
 
Where to begin?  Quite simply, this book lays it all out in its multitudinous entries, from history and legends to their very physiology and medicine.  To detail it would be an exercise in futility, as it’s crammed full of sketches, drawings, paintings, essays, tales, speculation and examination.  Open to a random page, and read about their breakfast.  Another page has a drawing of a gnome skeleton.  There’s a look at their digestive system, for example, and maps showing population density across Europe and North America.  The list goes on.
 
I adore this book.  Very few can come close to it in terms of constructing a full-fledged, believable society for mythical creatures, and present it in such a charming, accessible, artistic package.  The associated art ranges from serious to whimsical, and never loses track of the fey qualities of the gnomes within.  (But what’s up with those pointed red hats?  I think there’s a section devoted to that question…)  If you like Froud’s Faeries, this book is essential for your collection.
 
Lest no underground-dwelling creature of myth be left out, next on the list is Kingdom of the Dwarves, by Robb Walsh and illustrated by David Wenzel.  Released in 1980, it presents itself as an archaeological and sociological study of the mythical dwarves as they lived and thrived over 1500 years ago.  Again, it draws upon popular myth and legend to weave something greater, building upon the fairy tales of old to postulate the dwarves as an entire race of their own.  It shows how they could have built an empire underground, and where they came from before then.  It links them to any number of stories passed down to our time, including Stonehenge and Camelot. 
 
The strengths of this book lie in the sharp, fully-realized drawings and occasional colored painting that scatter throughout, illustrating the various aspects of the dwarves’ lives.  However, a goodly number of retold legends and stories about the dwarves to further expand upon what we know or think we know also make it an entertaining read.
 
Kingdom of the Dwarves is interesting, even beautiful in its own right.  Postulating them as a highly advanced race which influenced our own development before falling to a catastrophic plague before fleeing or dying is certainly an interesting choice, but no harder to swallow than any of the other theories regarding mythic creatures (such as the one where they’re a third aspect of angels who refused to takes sides and so were cast down to Earth).  It’s quirky, and worth checking out if you can track down a copy.
 
Our next stop as we look at mythic races is a Tolkien-influenced book, The Hobbit Companion, written by David Day and illustrated by Lidia Postman.  By now, I’m sure it’s a bit redundant to say that this book is inspired by those odd hairy-footed creatures of comfort that play such a big role in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.  It draws extensively from Tolkien’s many and thorough writings on the history and societies of Middle-Earth, and as far as I can tell, it does a very satisfactory job of making it accessible and welcoming for new and old readers alike.  That is, if they like literary games and clever language analysis.
 
As the book says, it’s “an exploration of the inspirational power of language. It proposes that the entire body of Tolkein’s writing dealing with Hobbits was essentially the product of a list of asssociations with the word Hobbit.  Thus, the invention of the word Hobbit resulted in the creation of the character, race, and world of the Hobbit.”  That sounds pretty serious to me.  Clearly, this book aspires to go above and beyond the call of duty in taking us on a tour of the world of the Hobbit.  It certainly takes some interesting side-trips.  For instance, the fact that “hobbit” appears right after “hoax” in many dictionaries is significant and worthy of analysis; that the entire Hobbit is presented as a literary hoax rather than a true novel.
 
There’s an extensive study of the name Bilbo Baggins, and how it relates to the nature of the character and his role in Hobbit society and in the book itself.  I never knew you could read so much in to one name.  The analysis of Gollum’s name in relationship to goblins, hobbits, hobgoblins, and more is just… uncanny.  And it only gets more interesting and convoluted from there as it studies the Shire, Bag End, The Tooks and the Brandybucks, Gandalf, trolls, giants, dragons, rings, thieves, the Fellowship and Frodo.  All the while picking apart words and phrases and names, looking for hidden meaning and strange relations that I never would have thought extant.  Just as Tolkein was a true scholar of linguistics, so does David Day tease apart the strands of Middle-Earth to spiritedly explain what it all might possibly mean.
 
This is an amazing book, dizzying in its complexity, but astounding in the way it offers up the information and presents it to be studied, digested, and possibly even understood.  While it looks like a rather generic Tolkein-inspired book at first, it swiftly establishes and maintains its own unique identity.  This is one for the scholars, trivia experts, and those who love working with words.
 
Having conducted a tour of the other races, we now circle back around to the beginning, with The Great Encyclopedia of Faeries, written by Pierre Dubois, and illustrated by Claudine and Roland Sabatier.  My goodness.  This one is really serious about its business, coming across as a weighty tome chuck-full of fairy goodness.  Seriously, it collects a whole (shining) host of myths, legends, lore, fairy tales and the like from all across the world to give us a rather thorough collection of fairy-related information.
 
The sections are broken up into “Maidens of Clouds and of Time,” “The Faeries of the Hearth,” “The Golden Queens of the Middle World,” “The Faeries of Rivers and the Sea,” “The Maidens of the Green Kingdom,” and “The Ethereal Ones of Infinite Dreams.”  Despite the somewhat flowery nature of these chapter titles, the actual material contained within each chapter is serious, and far-reaching, looking at fairies on a global level.  For instance, that first chapter includes the Valkryies, Mother Holle, genies and assorted thunder gods, and even Saint Lucia, Cinderella, and the Sleeping Beauties.  Faeries of the Hearth include Melusine and assorted countryside dragons.  I’d even go so far as to say that the majority of the fairies and creatures spotlighted in this book are more obscure, lesser-known, and Eurocentric.  The entries vary in tone and aspect from creature to creature; each one is detailed with stories and tales, while sidebars contain the bare facts like size, appearance, dress, food, habitat, custom and activities.
 
Combining this more in-depth look at lesser-known legends and fairy creatures with some stylish, absolutely beautiful artwork, The Great Encyclopedia of Faeries manages to live up to the high ideals set forth by its name.  It has enough new or obscure information, and presents it in such an approachable manner, that it’s sure to be a welcome addition to any reference section or bookshelf. 
 
Finally, we end our tour with a collection brought together and adapted by one of Green Man’s favorite experts, Jane Yolen, who gives us The Fairies’ Ring: A Book of Fairy Stories and Poems.  She’s joined in this by illustrator Stephen Mackey. Unlike the other books in this review, The Fairies’ Ring is a collection of poetry and stories about the Fae, as opposed to a concordance or encyclopedia.  Yolen has brought together both old and new in an effort to best present the full range and scope of the fairies’ nature. 
 
There’s a prose retelling of Thomas the Rhymer, always one of my favorite myths, and a selection from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.  There’s works by William Cory (Catching Fairies), Ben Jonson (Queen Mab), Sir Walter Scott (Fairy Song), W.B. Yeats (The Stolen Child), and several from Yolen herself (The Queen of the Fay, and Where To Find Fairies).  Over two dozen in all, ranging from England to Persia, from Scotland to France, from Greece to New Zealand, from Wales to Africa, representing numerous cultures.  In some cases, the story remains intact; in others, Yolen has adapted existing tales to better present the proper atmosphere and feel for the fairies. 
 
In every case, Mackey gives us some drop-dead artwork, which captures the feyness of the fairies, injects an ethereal tone into the people, and invokes something rich and wild all the way through.  It’s easy to pick out the Faerie Queen in one of his paintings; she’s unmistakable.  Landscapes are mysterious, holding that air of enigma and challenge, so that one might truly believe the fairies live just under the hill or around the corner.  These paintings are lush, soft in a Victorian manner, romantic without being sensitive.  And they tell the story.
 
Finally, a short essay on source notes explains where each of these stories came from, or where Yolen found her inspiration.  It’s very helpful, especially as a springboard towards finding out more.
 
And that concludes our tour for the time being… make sure you don’t get lost on the way home.
 
“I have come back from the hidden, silent lands of Faery
    And have forgotten the music of its ancient streams:
And now flame and wind and the long, grey, wandering wave
    And beauty and peace and sorrow are dreams within dreams.”
                – “Dreams Within Dreams” by Fiona Macleod

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The Taltos Series, by Steven Brust (1983-2001)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Graphic Novels & Picture Books | No Comments

Jhereg (Ace, 1983)
Yendi (Ace, 1984)
Teckla (Ace, 1987)
(These three reprinted in The Book of Jhereg (Ace, 1999))
Taltos (Ace, 1988)
Phoenix (Ace, 1990)
(These two reprinted in The Book of Taltos (Ace, 2002)
Athyra (Ace, 1993)
Orca (Ace, 1996)
Dragon (Tor, 1998)
Issola (Tor, 2001)
Jhereg: The Graphic Novel (Epic Comics, 1990)

Vlad Taltos is a very dangerous man. He has to be, in his line of work. He’s an assassin. He’s an Easterner (what we’d call human) in an empire full of near-immortal, very powerful beings known collectively as the Dragaerians. They have magic, superior numbers, and lifespans that allow them to plan over the course of centuries. They’re faster, taller, stronger, meaner, and possessed of Byzantine codes of honor and traditions that stretch back hundreds of thousands of years. He’s an upstart, daring to play and beat them at their own game.

Long ago, Vlad’s father spent all he had to buy a title within one of the seventeen great Houses of the Empire, becoming part of the Jhereg. These are the assassins, the criminals, the shady dealmakers, what the Mafia could be if given a few millennia to prosper and plan. Vlad’s father thought he was setting his son up for a good life. He was wrong.

Neither fish nor fowl, Easterner nor Dragaerian, holding a title within a noble House but caring nothing for it, Vlad was forced to develop amazing survival skills. And that’s how it all began.

He’s a witch, having mastered some of the arcane powers only Easterners may truly understand. He’s a sorcerer, having learned many of the psychic and magical talents shared by the Dragaerians. He’s got one of the flying lizardlike creatures also known as jhereg as his familiar. He’s going to need all the help he can get, for Vlad Taltos is the sort of man who makes enemies quicker than he can kill them. And this, collectively, is his story.

Over the course of ten volumes now, Steven Brust has charted the career of Vlad Taltos, skipping back and forth out of sequence to give us his beginnings, his endings, his rise and fall within the Jhereg organization. We’ve followed his progress through life and death, war and peace, prosperity and exile. And we’ve truly grown to know this extraordinary man, in his own words, through his own voice.

Jhereg introduces us to Vlad in the prime of his career, already well-established as an assassin and Jhereg businessman, responsible for the illegal and shady dealings in his small area of the great city of Adrilankha.

He’s got a steady business, a network of associates, and a few trusted friends, as well as his beautiful wife Cawti, an Easterner like himself who once killed him. (Hey, love is rough.) We’re dropped into his life, just as things begin to get … messy. It seems a certain important Jhereg by the name of Mellar has absconded with a little bit of money. Like, say, the lion’s share of the House’s funds, to the tune of nine million gold. The Jhereg council wants him very dead, very discreetly, before anyone else can get any funny ideas about robbing from them and surviving. Vlad gets tapped for the job with an offer he just can’t refuse and can’t even talk about.

So Vlad gathers the troops. His trusted lieutenant Kragar, the eccentric psychic Daymar, the legendary Kiera the Thief, and his own loving wife, Cawti. In no time at all, they’ve found the missing Mellar. One small problem. He’s residing at the Castle Black.

Which is the stronghold of the Dragonlord Morrolan, an extremely powerful man in his own right, one of Vlad’s closest friends, and someone who takes a promise of sanctuary very, very seriously. In short, Vlad can’t touch Mellar without sparking another Dragon-Jhereg War. Which would be bad. Very bad.

As Vlad and his allies try to lure Mellar out of his hiding spot in a manner which won’t offend Morrolan, they realize that the plot thickens. Assassins lurk and death is on everyone’s mind as the full extent of Mellar’s plotting and treachery comes to light.

If he dies, it’ll destroy no less than three of the Great Houses. If he lives, the Dragons and Jheregs will inevitably war anyway.

And Vlad’s own life hangs in the balance if he mucks this one up. It’ll take an obscene amount of cunning and split-second timing to bring down Mellar before things go wrong, and even then, help will be needed from the most unexpected quarters.

Yendi takes place before Jhereg. When Vlad goes to investigate a new gambling den that’s been opened in his territory without his permission, he discovers it’s more than a direct challenge, it’s the prelude to all-out territorial war — an expensive, messy, violent, bad-for-business war. The sort of war that gets one killed. Luckily, death isn’t always an absolute in the Dragaerian Empire; in fact, it’s downright common. As long as certain parts of the body and soul remain intact, that is. Thus, we’re introduced to Cawti, the deadly Dagger of the Jhereg, assassin extraordinaire. Once both Vlad and Cawti have paid their respects to the Land of the Dead and been revivified, they find that careers notwithstanding, it’s love (and lust) at first sight. (The couple that slays together, stays together?)

Ultimately, it becomes a question of who benefits from a Jhereg turf war. The answer? Someone with a lot of time to kill, and a rather devious mind. Dragaerian politics run rough and convoluted in the Empire. Unraveling this particular plot will be a true challenge for Vlad, Morrolan, Cawti, and their friends, including the undead sorceress Sethra Lavode, and the feisty Dragonlord, Aliera. But will they solve it before Vlad’s business goes up in flames?

Teckla bounces us to a time period right after the events of Jhereg. A now rich Vlad is thinking of expanding his territory. Cawti is thinking about the rights of Easterners in Adrilankha. Revolution, conspiracy, treachery, assassination and betrayal are all part of the everyday routine for the two lovers as they struggle to maintain their marriage in the face of some truly profound changes in the world around them. Will Vlad stick to his Jhereg loyalties, or seek solidarity with his own people and his wife? Will he join the revolution, or destroy it? And when members of the Eastern group start dying, what will he do to avenge them? It’s mayhem and magic and murder in the way only Vlad Taltos can deliver. It’s an all-out struggle between the classes, and anyone caught in the middle is bound to regret it. Especially our hero, when it comes time to choose sides.

Before we can find out how the revolution turns out, Brust takes us back in time again, to the beginning of Vlad’s career, in Taltos. This is how it all began, folks. How Vlad became an assassin. How he met the enigmatic Morrolan, lord of the flying Castle Black. How he first met the ancient sorceress Sethra Lavode, mistress of Dzur Mountain. How Vlad obtained the mystical gold chain known as Spellbreaker. How he first met the best thief in the world, Kiera. How he first visited the Lands of the Dead in order to return someone very important to life, as opposed to killing them. In all regards, this is the origin story of our hero, explaining a great many mysteries laid out in the first few books, and establishing the hows and whys of his relationships with a very peculiar trio of Dragaerians: Sethra Lavode, Morrolan, and Aliera.

Then it’s on to Phoenix to pick up on Vlad and Cawti’s story. He’s just acquired a very large amount of the city as his territory. She’s still on that revolution and change kick. It’s getting pretty awkward for the two, and their friends. Luckily, Vlad gets a job. Someone needs someone else killed, and he’s perfect for the job. Two problems. The target is the king of an island nation called Greenaere. Vlad’s employer is the Demon Goddess Verra. This is one job he most definitely can’t turn down. Worse, he’ll be going into it without his full magical strength, thanks to some special properties of Greenaere. All in a day’s work, right?

You guessed it. Nothing is ever simple with Vlad’s life. Killing the king is easy, escaping from prison hard. Getting home is a simple matter, with the right friends. Having his wife released from jail after a small misunderstanding involving the revolutionary organization is extremely hard. Stopping the war that breaks out between the Empire, Greenaere, and Elde Island … well, Vlad’s had better days.

The Empire itself threatens to crumble as pressure builds from within and without, and Adrilankha looks ready to sink into chaos and confusion and rioting. Vlad will have to make the most important choice of his life, between life and love, honor and loyalty, Easterners and Jhereg. If he follows one path, he will die. If he follows another, he’ll lose Cawti forever; a third, and the Jhereg themselves will be after him, for they don’t take betrayal lightly. Vlad, Baronet of Taltos, assassin and businessman, witch and sorcerer, will gain everything he’s always wanted … and then what?

Athyra continues the story of Vlad Taltos as he heads for the hills and into retirement, only to find himself swept up in yet another conspiracy. A few murders, some convoluted plotting, and of course the nastiest people the Jhereg could find, out for his head, any way they can get it. Even as Vlad finds himself with Savn, a young man in need of some training, he realizes that his past can’t be escaped so easily.

Vlad always pays his debts. And in Orca he’s up to his eyeballs in repaying them. There’s the matter of the brain-damaged young man who suffered said damage in saving Vlad’s life in the previous book. There’s a wise woman who can help said young man, if Vlad will just do something about the bank foreclosing on her house. And there’s a multilayered paper trail of fake organizations, false names, imaginary companies, and one very dead member of the House of the Orca. The financial fate of the Empire rests upon Vlad’s ability to solve the mystery before it all collapses and throws the Empire into ruin. It’s a shaky house of cards, with Vlad as the man who could topple it all, or save it all. If the Jhereg don’t find him first. Luckily, he has the aid of Kiera the Thief, whose own secrets threaten to shatter everything Vlad thought he knew about her; and a pair of (mostly) loyal jhereg (the flying lizard variety). If Vlad survives this, he could always hang out a shingle as a private investigator!

Speaking of surviving, that’s what Vlad has to do in Dragon, which fills in one of the major gaps in his backstory. Taking place when he was still an assassin and a faithful member of the Jhereg, this book details the fateful events of the Battle of Baritt’s Tomb. In between brutal, action-packed sequences detailing the way of the war, we see how Vlad got himself mixed up in this little mess. It involves the dead Baritt, a room full of the soul-destroying Morganti weapons, and war between two very powerful Dragonlords, one of them Morrolan. In it, Sethra Lavode gets to indulge in one of her favorite pastimes: commanding armies.

Luckily, they’ll find a use for Vlad’s particular talents. Once again, it’s time to ask who benefits, and what the true goal is. Why the two mighty Dragonlords would go to war over a simple theft. Why certain people have to die. And what secret will ultimately be revealed. One of the seventeen Great Weapons is up for grabs, and the fight for it won’t be pretty.

Finally, we come back to the “present” in Issola. Having discharged his responsibilities in Orca, Vlad finds himself at peace in the wilderness, as many loose ends as possible tied up. So naturally it’s the perfect time for Morrolan’s ever-faithful servant, the Lady Teldra, to find Vlad and enlist his help. It seems Morrolan and Kiera have gone and gotten themselves kidnapped by the Jenoine, the very beings who, hundreds of thousands of years ago, were responsible for the very form and function of Easterners, and the various Houses of the Dragaerians themselves. In short, the sort of people who make the gods and demons go weak in the knees and look the other way. Any sane person would run like hell at this point. But Vlad Taltos, good guy and ex-assassin, isn’t that smart. He takes the job, and goes hunting for his missing friends, with Lady Teldra and Sethra Lavode to back him up.

Another small problem. Vlad gets caught as well. And the Jenoine want to hire him. This is even worse than the time the Demon Goddess Verra enlisted Vlad’s help, especially since … well … Verra’s the target. Let’s see. Kill Demon Goddess, or offend the Jenoine. Ever wish you’d stayed in bed? Vlad wishes he’d never even been -born- after that choice.

But even the gods can die. That’s the awful truth that lies in wait for Vlad and his friends as they rush towards a climatic confrontation between the Jenoine and the gods on the shores of the Sea of Amorphia, the mass of magical primal ooze which used to be Dragaera’s greatest city until the Great Disaster descended upon it. (For -that- story, see Brust’s The Phoenix Guards and Five Hundred Years Later, the first two books in a trilogy detailing the Empire centuries before the Taltos books take place.)

It’s a matter of gods, demons, things greater than gods, and a trio of Great Weapons, with Vlad and friends quite thoroughly mixed up in the middle. And someone’s not going home again when it’s all over. But the secret of Spellbreaker, long hinted at, will finally be revealed, and Vlad will be forced to reevaluate his life once more. Failure is not an option, if they want to keep the Jenoine from establishing a measure of power over the world once again….

What can I say about the Taltos books? Fast-paced, action-packed, and brilliantly constructed, each one has more layers than an onion, and more twists than a maze designed by a blind man on a drunk mule. The fight scenes are full of swash and buckle, both epic and gritty in extent, easy to visualize and fun to follow. The complexity of the plots and the mindbendingly convoluted nature of the stories make them a joy to try and unravel before Vlad does. It’s all quite sharp, and built on an epic scale. Brust certainly doesn’t think small, with stories unfolding over the course of years, and plans taking centuries to come to fruition.

The characters are resolutely over-the-top, mixing political treachery, swashbuckling adventure, and high magic, larger than life and twice as fun to watch in action. The majority of the books are told from the viewpoint of Vlad himself, and his sardonic, cynical, world-weary voice is engrossing, giving the books the perfect edge to keep them from being too full of themselves. In fact, it’s only when the books aren’t told from his point of view (such as in Athyra and parts of Orca) that the quality seems to slip and interest wanes.

The world Brust has created for the Taltos books is huge — a sweeping Empire, seventeen Great Houses, a history stretching back over hundreds of millennia, gods and beings greater than gods, and one mere human at the very center of it all. It’s fascinating, intriguing, and thoroughly delightful. Watching the pieces fall into place and the story unfold is a rare joy. It’s the plotting of a Dumas novel and the high adventure of an Errol Flynn movie, told with a voice that would make Humphrey Bogart proud. I highly recommend the Taltos series to anyone who appreciates their fantasy complex and multilayered, and above all else, fun.

You can read them in chronological order, or in publication order, or even in alphabetical order, but luckily, most of them are designed to be read on their own. I accidentally started with Taltos, so I knew how he met everyone and came to be before I read the rest of the series, but you’re free to choose your own order. With the first five books conveniently reprinted in two handsome trade paperbacks (The Book of Jhereg and The Book of Taltos) it’ll be easy to get started. The hard part may be tracking down the remaining books, but it’s worth it.

As an added curiosity, I picked up a copy of the graphic novel adapted from Jhereg, produced by Epic Comics back in 1990. It was adapted by Alan Zelenetz, with art by John Pierard, and it’s a very interesting, stylistic look at the world of Dragaera and the life of Vlad Taltos. I’m still of two minds about it, honestly. It’s not quite how I’d pictured the characters, but it’s still a good take on how they might look. Loiosh, Vlad’s jhereg familiar, comes off perfectly, and Vlad himself carries that unique mix of arrogance and cynical paranoia that makes him the gripping character that he is.

It really does boil down a complex book into too few pages, so that we lose the true complexity of the intricate plot that fuels the story’s progress. However, while some characters don’t look quite right, it does capture the little touches, such as the diminutive (for a Dragaerian) Aliera’s habit of levitating to make up for her height. And the exterior shot of Castle Black is simply gorgeous. Ultimately, though, I wouldn’t recommend it as the ideal adaptation for Jhereg. Too short, too quick, too simple, and it loses much of the beauty of Brust’s words.

That ends our tour of the Taltos books for now, but undoubtedly we’ll rejoin this world when Steven Brust chooses to add to the mythos.

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Three Brian Froud Books

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Elves & Fairies, Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Fantasy, Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Non-Fiction & Reference | No Comments

Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book (With Terry Jones) (Turner Publishing, 1994)
Strange Stains and Mysterious Smells (With Terry Jones) (Simon and Schuster, 1996)
Good Faeries, Bad Faeries (With Terri Windling) (Simon and Schuster, 1998)

Brian Froud is one of those artists whose magical designs and whimsical creations stay with you long after you turn the page. Possibly best-known for his design work (with his wife, Wendy Froud) on cult-favorite movies Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, he’s also released quite a few books of his own, both alone and with various collaborators. One of the best and earliest of these is simply entitled Faeries. I was going to review it, until I discovered it had somehow, somewhere along the way, suffered severe water damage and was in no shape to be read. (I weep for this misfortune, for the book truly is a work of art.) However, I do have three of Froud’s other offerings, which thoroughly show off his talent, his whimsy, and his skill at capturing the unknown which lurks all about us.

The first of these is Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book, written in conjunction with Terry Jones (of Monty Python fame, also the screenwriter for Labyrinth). It’s presented, tongue-in-cheek, as a pastiche of the Victorian fairy craze, purporting to be the true journal of one Angelica Cottington, who pioneered a unique method of capturing and recording fairies in her journal. To be blunt, she lured them in, and then SQUISH! between the pages, smooshed and dried like flowers. All together? Eeeeeww. Pressed fairies. This book details her sightings and capturings between 1895 and 1912, as she grows up during the changing, romanticized times of Victorian England. She could very well be the friend of the girls who so cleverly took photographs of fairies and convinced doubters such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that fairies were real. She was just more … hands-on.

Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Journal possesses a wicked sense of humor, and never takes itself too seriously, even as we follow the development of Angelica Cottington through her writings. The text is presented in an ever-improving scrawl on both pages of this faux journal. Of course, the true attraction comes in the wonderfully gruesome images Froud presents, of fairies sprawled at awkward angles, smooshed and squished with a particularly surprised look on their faces. They range from flower sprites to mosquitoesque creatures, multicolored, winged, and preserved for posterity. They’re silly, serious, beautiful, ugly, and no two are alike, demonstrating Froud’s tremendous range of inspiration and capacity for invention. As a bonus, my book actually comes with its very own pressed fairy, suitable for use as a bookmark or window-hanging, or keeping pressed. This is one of those books that earns its keep just by being so bizarre, so very different from what you might expect. The last few pages are bound together with a strip of paper for our protection, as the last fairies in the book present some T&A in their own capricious, messy style.

Froud and Jones followed that book up with Strange Stains and Mysterious Smells, ostensibly written by the good Lady Cottington’s twin brother, Quentin. He goes a step further, to detail the lives and natures of another breed of fairy altogether, transcribing “The Unnatural History of Mess-Makers and Pong-Perpetrators.” In short, while his sister was smooshing fairies in the garden, Quentin was investigating the creatures that create odd stains, smells, messes, and so forth. Froud and Jones, entirely tongue-in-cheek on this one, purport to have found this journal, and to have recreated the unusual experiments contained within, to make manifest these creatures and record them for posterity.

Thus do we meet the Bule Ketty, which inhabits the fronts of shirts and looks particularly woebegone. Thus do we learn of Whooper the Soot, a northern stain which terrorizes kirtles and skilly-pans. Thus do we understand the nature of Mai Tee Pong, which explains the unique nastiness of “Floral Air Freshener.” Thus do we meet Lucy Lilo, the invisible stain that appears only after we’re convinced once and for all that our shirt is clean, right before that big event. Meet as well George Hackenbush the Fourth, Groucho Marx aficionado and strange stain. Beware of the sprite of joss-sticks, which has no name, but affects a rather politically incomprehensible demeanor. These are but a few of the dozens of creatures penned and sketched and painted for our edification in this terrifying, fascinating expose of the world around us.

To say that Jones and Froud are having fun here would be an understatement. The text is serious in that way that only great comedians can be, keeping a straight face while tossing off ludicrous situations and laughable names and silly anecdotes with aplomb and panache. Likewise, this is an art book, and Froud goes out of his way to truly embody and envision these creatures as they might be. The art defies description, and must truly be seen to be understood. It’s a unique style, all right. Where else will you find fairies picking their noses, inhabiting ATM machines, drooling or dripping mucus, or just insulting the reader? Strange Stains and Mysterious Smells is a unique book, and I thank my lucky stars it’s not Scratch-and-Sniff as well. This is easily one of Froud’s best works, with the artist at his most inventive and most evocative, and certainly his most disgusting in some places.

Finally, we have Froud’s followup to Faeries, a thick tome entitled Good Faeries, Bad Faeries, edited by Terri Windling. This absolutely gorgeous book is Froud’s exploration of the fairy world from two distinctly different angles, and is presented as a flip book. From one side, it’s all about the good faeries who inhabit this world and other worlds. From the other, it’s all about the bad faeries. So you can arrange the book to suit your mood or your tastes, and it’ll look right either way.

Starting with the Good Faeries, we are treated to an introduction by Froud, in which he explains how the book came to be, how he’s changed, grown, and learned much in the twenty years since Faeries originally came out. We see his more metaphysical side at work, a side which helped him to later create The Faeries Oracle.

The Good Faerie half contains a brilliant, well-written essay on the history and classification of faeries. He talks of naming them, of the elements they represent, of their unusual and expressive physiognomy, of the science of the faeries, of healing, and of communication, and so forth. To try and summarize would be a crime, as this could very well be a textbook on faeries. Hey, we know so little, who’s to say he’s not right?

Then we get into the actual faeries. There are the classic flower faeries, perceptive piskys, salamanders and sylphs and undines, The Faery Godmother, The Frog Queen, the knowing faery, the morning faery, and so many more. Dozens of gorgeous, flowing, fluid, natural creatures of primal passion and elemental magic, of legend and myth, folklore and New Age belief. Some have been around for centuries, some are as new as the book itself. There’s the ghost of a mushroom and the Plymouth Rock Faery, the Angel of Spiritual Empowerment and the Gladfly, the Healing Goddess and The Green Woman. There’s even the King of Green Men himself (our patron here at Green Man) and various pixies. They are too numerous and distinct to be described by mere words.

Froud’s artistic genius has matured and developed a lot over the decades. He’s not the same artist he was when he helped create the uniquely memorable characters and concepts in Labyrinth, but he’s changed only for the better.

Any one of the pieces in this half of the book could be poster-quality, easily. They’re that good, each one absolutely fitting the being it supposedly represents.

In the Bad Faeries half of the book, we run into the worst of an entirely different, very bad, lot. The introduction on this side is a mirror image of the other one, detailing another set of circumstances and beliefs to create one whole story. The essay for this part of the book details things like faery blights, defects, music, glamour, warding against the faeries, and more.

The Bad Faeries themselves are ugly, twisted, hideous, wicked, disturbing, creepy, and beautiful in their own way. There’s the Queen of the Bad Faeries, peering at us from between her twisted fingers. There’s a perfidious pook and a bigot bogey, the computer glitch and the sink faery, the dreaded Snagger (who preys on travellers and puts runs in stockings, among other crimes), and the faery of indecision. There’re the faeries of dark despair, the pang of regret, the compulsive faery. There’s even a faery for bad hair days!

These are all of the malicious, malevolent, mischievous, petty, nasty, evil, rotten things that go wrong in the world, taken from myth and legend and everyday life with equal glee. Morgana the Fey is here, as is the Out-of-the-Blue Faery (out of the blue, you remember that anniversary you forgot…) Worst of all is that fiend himself, the Buttered Toast Faery, who decides what side the toast lands on when you inevitably drop it. (There’s probably a Cat Hair Faery, which explains why they shed so much….)

If the rest of Froud’s books are good, this one is nothing short of superb in every regard, from the handsome design to the spectacular artwork inside. Froud is easily one of the best “faery artists” of this era, much like Arthur Rackham was for his generation, comparable only to someone like Charles Vess.

I can’t say enough nice things about this book. It’s a treat for mind and eyes alike.

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The Way of Wizards, by Tom Cross (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2001)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Non-Fiction & Reference, Wizards, Mages and Spellcasters, Young Adult | No Comments

Undoubtedly inspired by the wave of wizardphilia that’s swept the world ever since Harry Potter hit that magical zeitgeist switch, The Way of Wizards is a full-color coffee table art book in the same tradition as Brian Froud’s Faeries, except that this goes into the world and ways and mysteries of the wizards.

It’s both written and fully illustrated by Tom Cross, who describes his style of blending techniques and inspirations into his artwork as “nature folklore.”

It starts out with a chapter on defining wizards: their origins, the source of their power, and their rhyme and reason. Like many of these books, it’s written in a scholarly fashion, as if initiating a new apprentice or wizard into their world. It takes us on a journey of the Wizard’s Council, the Hall of Beards, the Cave of Names, the University of Wizardry itself. There’s a look at a wizard’s tower, and the reason they like to live in such strange places. Thus might you look for -and find- wizards, if you know where to seek them.

It goes into more detail, then, showing us how the wizards might divide themselves, so that four of them — the most powerful — each oversee an element: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and how they relate to the appropriate colors for each element. There’s Star Weaver, the wizard of Air, and the fairies he watches over as part of his role. There’s Wind Sifter, wizard of Earth, who likewise has dominion over the various races of elves, and all the green things of nature. Flame Catcher is the wizard of Fire, and his people are the many dwarves and under-dwellers. Finally, there’s Shell Caster, wizard of Water, and guardian of the merfolk.

A chapter devotes itself to tools of the trade, explaining such things as wands, pointy hats, amulets, staves, even the robes. Who’d ever have guessed that a wizard’s pointy hat acts as a lightning rod for magic?

Then we have information on the gatherings and societies of wizards. The book covers places such as the mighty University of Magic, the School of Tutelage and the Academy of Instruction, where apprentices go to learn all they must before they can become wizards in their own right. There’s also the College of Supernatural Knowledge, and the Institute of Wizdom, which each has a role to fulfill.

And more: wizard holidays, communing with nature and animals, trapping magic, affecting weather, the uses for flowers and metals and jewels. Wizards who go to war and do battle magically. Magic in all its forms.

The true strength of this book is definitely the artwork. Cross’ style is very evocative, fully painted and bursting with color and life on every page.

He creates this whole world from scratch, and populates it with wizards and creatures of all descriptions, lovingly detailing dozens of fairies and elves and mythical beasts. He captures the essence of magical items, and details every stone in their towers with the same precision. As artistic endeavors go, this is truly a sight to behold.

Comparatively, I found the text to be a bit silly, and hard to believe in, especially with the names (as above, the various elemental wizards). I had trouble taking it all seriously enough to let myself fall into the world created. A younger audience will undoubtedly love it, and be absolutely enthralled with the bright, lively artwork. However, don’t go in to this thinking it’ll be a serious or terribly adult read. Embrace your inner child first, if you want to look at this book properly.

All in all, I find The Way of Wizards to be absolutely beautiful in terms of the illustrations, but a bit lacking where the text is concerned. Certainly it’s quite thorough, drawing upon a wealth of legend and lore and creating something new, but it doesn’t ring like some books do. At a hefty $34.95 retail, you’ll want to look through it for yourself before committing.

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Preacher: Dead or Alive, by Glenn Fabry (DC Comics/Vertigo, 2000)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

Imagine you’re an artist, and you’ve been given a very unusual task. Create eye-catching, evocative comic book covers, month in and month out for a new series. The main characters include a hitwoman, a vampire, a preacher possessed by the Word of God, an unstoppable killing machine fueled by divine wrath and mortal hate, a conspiracy to take over the world, and God Himself.

You’re working in conjunction with a mad British writer who seems to possess an unending supply of mad ideas and bizarre genius, who asks the impossible over and over.

Congratulations! You’re Glenn Fabry, and this is your book.

Preacher was a series that ran for 66 regular issues, plus assorted one-shots and miniseries. The main character, Jesse Custer, was a reverend on the run from his past who was inexplicably possessed by a power neither divine nor infernal. His girlfriend and love of his life was Tulip, on the run from a failed hit. Their friend and constant companion was Cassidy, a hard-drinking Irish vampire. Jesse’s quest: to find the AWOL God and make Him account for the state of life as we know it. But there were a few snags.

Jesse’s evil grandmother. The unstoppable seven-foot-tall killing machine known as the Saint of Killers, straight out of a Wild West that never was. Herr Starr and the Grail, a secret organization dedicated to controlling the world through the last of Christ’s bloodline, now horribly inbred. Angels, demons, and God Himself.

And they persevered through all manner of bizarre things, until the final bloody end, where almost no one got out alive.

Throughout all this, Gleen Fabry provided uniquely fitting, often disturbing, always fantastical cover paintings. No matter what the challenge, he rose to it. Over the run of Preacher, he turned out dozens of memorable, powerful covers to depict the mythic quest of a man in search of his creator, and a man in search of redemption. Jesse Custer remains powerfully rugged, a hero inspired by the myth of the Wild West. Tulip is strong and independent, beautiful but not gorgeous. Cassidy ranges from devilish to seductive as he personifies all the dark, sometimes romantic, aspects of being a vampire. The Saint of Killers, who’s like a Wild West campfire nightmare come to life, is never anything less than unrelentingly scary.

The cover for the last issue of the series is especially beautiful, depicting a man about to “slap leather” gunfighter style, standing off against the entire Hosts of Heaven in a high noon showdown like none other. The shot of Jesse reflected against the black marble of the Vietnam Memorial is also quite striking. The painting of Cassidy throwing himself carelessly, joyfully, from the Empire State Building has a certain devil-may-care aspect to it.

Sometimes inspired, sometimes blasphemous, sometimes as twisted as a Hieronymous Bosch painting, each cover is lovingly reproduced in this handsome hardback collection from DC Comics, which previously gave the same treatment for Sandman cover artist Dave McKean. Each one is accompanied by commentary by Glenn Fabry, as well as series writer Garth Ennis, as they explain what they were going for, and how it worked, or didn’t work. There’re reproductions for every cover of every issue in the series, including the one-shots and miniseries, as well as unused covers, initial design sketches, and promo pieces.

At $29.95, it’s a bit steep for a hardcover art book, but it’s well worth it in my opinion. Like Dave McKean, Glenn Fabry was called upon to interpret and redesign a whole host of mythic characters. Preacher is one of those series that is destined to be remembered for a long time to come, and Preacher: Dead or Alive celebrates the visual aspects of this, quite gleefully. It may not be to everyone’s liking, especially as some of the art is quite … twisted, though never obscene, and the language is definitely for mature audiences only. But as collections of this sort go, the production values are extremely high, and the material strange and mythic enough to warrant attention.

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The Complete Big Books of… Review

Jul 19

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Historical, Non-Fiction & Reference | No Comments

The Big Book of the ’70s, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 2000)
The Big Book of Bad, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1998)
The Big Book of Conspiracies, by Doug Moench, (Paradox Press, 1995)
The Big Book of Death, by Bronwyn Carlton (Paradox Press, 1995)
The Big Book of Freaks, by Gahan Wilson, et al. (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Grimm, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1999)
The Big Book of Hoaxes, by Carl Sifakis, et al., (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Little Criminals, by George Hagenauer, et al. (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Losers, by Paul Kirchner (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Martyrs, by John Wagner (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Scandal, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Thugs, by Joel Rose (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of the Unexplained, by Doug Moench, (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Urban Legends, by Jan Harold Brunvald, adapted by Robert Loren Fleming and Robert F. Boyd, Jr. (Paradox Press, 1994)
The Big Book of Vice, by Steve Vance (Paradox Press, 1999)
The Big Book of The Weird Wild West, by Steve Vance and John Whalen (Paradox Press, 1998)
The Big Book of Weirdoes, by Carl Posey (Paradox Press, 1995)

It’s no secret that we live in an increasingly bizarre, inexplicable, unpredictable, and generally messed-up world. How often do we read something in the news, and go ‘Oh, that’s just not right!’ We thrill to urban legends, alternately denouncing and upholding them, doing our part to propagate stories of alligators in the sewers and poodles in the microwave. We spread around stories about the Darwin Awards, given out to people who go above and beyond the call of duty to remove themselves from the gene pool in spectacularly messy and often embarrassing ways. We tell jokes about public figures, and examine every crack in the facade of society. In short, we’ve done a lot with free will, most of it strange.

If that’s not enough, the world itself seems to conspire against our sanity. Prehistoric serpents swim in the lakes, hairy monsters stalk the woods, crop circles and UFOs are spotted frequently. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on reality, it comes back to bite you in the rear, as it were.

Between 1994 and 2000, Paradox Press, an imprint of DC Comics, released a set of books collecting and examining the weirdest, wackiest, most outrageous material they could find, ranging across the spectrum of popular culture, obscure history, embarrassing moments in society, grim (and Grimm) fascinations, and that part of our soul that we never, ever listen to enough.

Seventeen books in all have been released to date in the Big Book series, seventeen distinct chapters in an encyclopedic compendium of strange.

The format is uniform across the line. Each is the size of a magazine, weighing in at 200 pages, give or take a few. These are well-designed, sturdy volumes which will look good on any shelf. Essentially, they’re graphic novels, with the numerous entries in each book written either by one author or one of several, and illustrated by any one of dozens of different artists. That’s right, one book can include upwards of 70 artists or more, featuring a wildly varying range of styles. While listing them all would be prohibitive, some regular and familiar names include Gahan Wilson, Sergio Aragones (of Mad Magazine and Groo fame), Eddie Campbell (the From Hell graphic novel), Phil Jiminez (current writer and artist of Wonder Woman), Colleen Doran (A Distant Soil), Frank Quietly (The Authority, New X-Men), and so many more. Those with any knowledge of comic books, graphic novels, or alternative media will likely see quite a few familiar names and styles here.

Each book has its theme and sticks to it, with the remarkable result of maintaining very little overlap between books. As for those specific themes, we’ll address each book individually. For the ease of sanity, I’ve chosen to go in alphabetical order, since they can be read in any order or way you desire.

The Big Book of the ’70′s is by Jonathan Vankin, who may have done more Big Books than any other writer. The theme is, yes, you guessed it, that fabulously tacky, turbulent time of change that managed to both embarrass and enrapture society. Vankin covers everything from fads (sex, partying, fashion, disco, streaking, and the ever-popular useless crap) to people (such as Evel Knievel, Burt Reynolds, John Lennon, The Fonz, and Jimmy Carter). There’s women’s liberation, Patty Hearst, the energy crisis, the Moonies, Skylab’s demise, Son of Sam, and the Iran Hostage Crisis. There’s the entertainment explosion: McDonalds, baseball, Sesame Street, glam rock, punk rock, monsters of rock. There’s the Bicentennial, Richard Nixon, and “jiggle” shows like Charlie’s Angels. This book manages to capture all of the quintessential moments, fads, celebrities and incidents that made up this decade. Folks, this is the decade I was born into, and I’m perversely glad I don’t remember it, some days. However, as uncomfortable as some of these things seem now (disco and leisure suits, for example), they’re valid and fun to think back on. Like all the books in the series, this is an entertaining look at an odd point in our history.

Jonathan Vankin also gives us The Big Book of Bad, which takes a look at things that maybe we really should have thought through better. First we have bad guys, such as Pol Pot, Stalin, Himmler, Basil the Bulgar Slayer, and the worst of the Roman emperors. Then we move over to look at a few of literature’s worst offenders: Moriarty, Modred, Long John Silver, Dracula, and more. After that, the book takes on entire groups of people based on really bad ideas, such as the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch Hunt, the KKK, and McCarthyism. There’s bad science, and Bad Sports, a double entendre title to address some of the sports world’s worst people, including Mike Tyson and Ty Cobb. Finally, there’re things that were (and still are) just in bad taste; Liberace is just one of the many examples in this section.

Doug Moench takes over for a twisted and paranoid visit to The Big Book of Conspiracies. Yes, they’re out to get you. Who killed Kennedy? What’s the CIA -really- been up to? What’s the secret of the Face on Mars? What’s the story behind the Magic Bullet? The CIA working with the Nazis, say it ain’t so. How has The Man kept cannabis down when it’s good for so much? Take my word for it, if the truth is in here, it’s struggling to get out. Whether your conspiracy of choice involves the Masons, the Boy Scouts, the Illuminati, or the PTA, it’s bound to be in here. Some of the evidence is pretty convincing, other parts are outlandish, and the book makes no claims to know the one true story. But it’s sure fun to wonder.

Fascinated by death? Bronwyn Carlton certainly is, enough to write The Big Book of Death. She takes us on a gruesome tour of the big sleep, starting with the many methods of capital punishment we’ve thought up. She addresses the myth/reality of postal rage-turned-homicide, teen suicide, stupid murders, and even the infamous Dr, Kevorkian. There’s mass death, with our friends the Black Death, Typhoid Mary, and tuberculosis. There’s weird death, including spontaneous combustion, and dozens of other bizarre ways to kick the bucket, from swallowing pennies to being crushed by ice cream treats. She doesn’t flinch away from the delicate subject of body disposal, detailing practices such as embalming, burial, cremation, mummification, and even cryonics. She leads us on a walking tour of the world’s most notorious cemeteries, including Forest Lawn and Le Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise. No rest for the weary? That’s the title for a chapter that touches on vampires, cannibals, and saving Sakharov’s brain. Do we have issues with death? Dante’s tour of Hell certainly suggests it. Famous last words and near-death experiences likewise suggest that the final moment may be more interesting than we imagined. While the subject matter may be a bit much for the squeamish, and it’s certainly not upbeat, it’s thorough, informative, and interesting.

Let’s try something a little … different. Famed cartoonist Gahan Wilson brings along a few of his friends for The Big Book of Freaks. If they’re weird, they’re in here. From Barnum’s freaks (such as Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy, Jumbo the elephant, and assorted giants) to Siamese twins, from bearded ladies to snake charmers, from geeks to the tattooed prince, from real freaks to manufactured freaks, they’re all here. It’s the genetic upsets, oops, mishaps, and societal flubs that make life so interesting. Given Gahan Wilson’s unique style of cartooning, it’s no wonder he feels such an affinity with the oddities of the world.

Next is something truly near and dear to our hearts here at Green Man: The Big Book of Grimm, adapted from the works of the good Brothers Grimm by Jonathan Vankin. In it he cheerfully retells several dozen of Grimm’s finest fairy tales, sparing us none of the gore or gruesome details. These aren’t the sanitized versions; these are the ones with amputated limbs, horrible deaths, hungry wolves, vicious stepmothers, dysfunctional families, unhappy childhoods, even unhappier marriages, and harsh life lessons. Cinderella is here, as is Rapunzel, Clever Hans, the Goose Girl, Hans My Hedgehog (a humanoid hedgehog, he plays the bagpipes and rides a giant rooster, I kid you not), and many more, both well-known and obscure. If you love fairy tales as they should be, this is the Big Book for you. The book stays true to the material, and the illustrated stories are lovely. Just think twice before showing these to your children…. (I’m still worried by the hedgehog!)

Our next stop is for the gullible, with The Big Book of Hoaxes. Meet the scammers, grifters, con men, too-clever conspirators, and everyone who’s ever tried to pull the wool over someone’s eyes. All our old favorites are here, from the Hitler diaries to the Zion Protocols, from the Cottingley Fairy photos to the Piltdown Man, from the Boxer Rebellion which started as a way to sell newspapers to get-rich-quick schemes. Meet the people who wanted to saw Manhattan in half, and the original cloned human. These are very naughty people by any standards, experts at separating a man from his money, and often from his credibility as well. Pickpockets, mall check hustlers, badgers and pigeons, they’re all here.

On a like note we have The Big Book of Little Criminals, written by George Hagenauer and several others. Not everyone can be a successful major criminal. This book is dedicated to all the small-timers, “thugs, mugs, and slugs” and more.From small-time hoods to hustlers, from forgers to fakers, from ‘disorganized’ crime to the most dangerous women in the field, and finally to some spectacular heists, this one runs the gamut. Whether it’s trying to buy Portugal, counterfeit one-dollar bills, steal Arizona, swipe the Mona Lisa, get sent up the river, or hijack an airplane, these guys have done it: Al Capone, Ma Barker, D. B. Cooper. Louie “Pretty” Amberg, the ugliest gangster in town, shares space with “Dasher” Abbandando, the fastest killer on the block. These people have big dreams, but they don’t always follow through. And when they do, who knows what’ll happen? This is for all the Criminology majors out there.

If you want to feel better about your lot in life, pick up The Big Book of Losers by Paul Kirchner (Fabulous Flops and Fabulous Fads, Nancy A. Collins, and Irwin Chusid. In here are the people who just couldn’t seem to get a break, no matter how they tried. The ones who never made it to the White House, and the ones who did, like James Garfield (killed by medicine) and William Henry Harrison (killed by the weather). Leon Trotsky, who wasn’t welcome at home, and Montezuma, who welcomed the wrong people into his home. There’s the Edsel, the paper dress, and New Coke. Women’s urinals (which make great flowerpots), the picturephone (whose niche has been filled by webcams, if you ask me), smokeless cigarettes (a losing proposition at any price), and the Susie B. dollar coin. Milli Vanilli gets the spotlight, as does Carrie: The Musical. Look back at Custer’s Last Stand, the Maginot Line, and Watergate. Even science has its blunders, when you stop to consider the pneumatic subway, Edison’s cement housing, Mark Twain’s disastrous investments, and Howard Hughes and the infamous Spruce Goose wooden airplane. There’re lost explorers and downed airmen, screwed-up pirates, and mutineers. This book proves we can’t all be winners.

How willing are -you- to die for your beliefs? John Wagner tells the stories of over four dozen men and women who’ve sacrificed their lives in the line of duty, in The Big Book of Martyrs. From apostles to disciples, we look at John the Baptist, Peter, Stephen, Paul and Bartholomew. Try some of the other martyrs: Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp, Laurence, Vitus, Agnes or Blaise, who all met their messy ends in the age of persecution. From popes and kings to slaves and gardeners, we have Thomas Becket and Thomas More, Agatha and Wenceslas. We have soldiers who turned the other cheek, such as Alban, Edmund, Olaf and Joan of Arc. We have the legendary saints: Christopher, Valentine, George, Philomena, and of course Ursula and the 11,000 virgins. (There’s a band name for you!) Even today we have martyrs, whether it’s in Vietnam or Uganda, North America or Nagasaki. If your interests lie in religious trivia, or just in general curiosity, this is a fascinating, if occasionally depressing, book. You’d think we could all just get along….

So maybe losers and martyrs aren’t your thing. Maybe you like seeing people get what they deserve. Jonathan Vankin is back with The Big Book of Scandal! to enlighten us and expose the stupid and unlucky. Everyone in this book has feet of clay: Fatty Arbuckle, Charlie Chaplin, Ingrid Bergman, Heidi Fleiss, Woody Allen, even Rudolph Valentino, all examples of Hollywood’s less stellar moments. Maybe you’d rather see Jimmy Swaggart, or Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, or O. J. Simpson, or Michael Jackson get their comeuppance. What about the Iran-Contra affair, the business at Watergate, the great mistakes of the Kennedy family, philandering politicians? Oh yes. It’s all in here. Every last blot and blemish and instance where someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar … or down the intern’s pants. There’s bad bankers, screwball scientists, and even the dangers of cyberporn, back before it really became an issue. Never before have so many been exposed for so little. Although exposed is such a … sensitive term for some of these poor people.

Joel Rose gives us a wry look at some other bad people in The Big Book of Thugs. Starting with the legendary cult of the Thugees, this book details all of those groups and individuals who’ve made their living terrorizing others. Gangs, posses, mobs, societies, families, and random gatherings are included. Some of these people make me scared to go outside. There’re stranglers, regulators, lynchers, rustlers, and spankers, roughnecks and more. Enjoy getting to know the nastiest men and women around, from a safe distance.

Doug Moench returns with The Big Book of the Unexplained. Like the Big Book of Conspiracies, this book looks at the truly bizarre things that make life as we know it so exciting. Alien abductions and UFOs have their place beside the Loch Ness Monsters, the Men in Black, the Mothman, the Goatsucker, and Bigfoot. Ghosts and bizarre creatures, even James Dean’s cursed car, are to be found here. Go ahead, you know you want to take a peek at the Kentucky goblins, kraken, and random examples of what could only be a great cosmic trickster having a laugh at our expense. This is good stuff, folks, whether it’s real or not.

Next up are 200 stories brought forth from the works of famed folklorist Jan Harold Brunvald in what else but The Big Book of Urban Legends. Lovingly recreated in cartoon format are all of the classics. Spider-infested hairdos, choking Dobermans, the “baby train,” resubmitted term papers, exploding toilets, microwaved pets, dead roommates, serial killers, sex romps, hitchhikers, exam pranks, and many, many more. If you’ve heard an urban legend, it’s probably in here. It’s great to see what we’ll actually believe to be true, and wonder what might have inspired it. This is definitely one of the best books in a consistently good series.

Still with me? Steve Vance and Dave Stern take us on a tour of all things naughty with The Big Book of Vice. That’s right, it’s some of our favorite things: sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling, tobacco, and sin cities. Mmmm-boy. Pimps and prostitutes, madams and porn kings, cigarettes and cigars, Las Vegas, cocaine, hemp, LSD, Timothy Leary, caffeine fiends, moonshine, marijuana, opium … if it can be eaten, drunk, smoked, snorted, or wagered, it’s probably one of the vices or topics found here. Even comic books and candy and trading cards have their moment. This is a great book to give to your favorite priest … or maybe not. Just don’t think it’s a checklist of things you absolutely must do (like some reportedly do with the Purity Test!). It’s fun to see what we get up to in our spare time … and sobering.

John Whalen and friends escort us back to one of the wildest, weirdest times in American history in The Big Book of the Weird Wild West. It’s all about gunfighters, strange legends and crackpot characters, killers and cannibals. We’re told about the bigger-than-life people who made their livings and legends in that over-the-top period. Back then it seemed people would believe everything, and the dime novels that turned killers into heroes and minor hoodlums into major celebrities didn’t help. In a land without law, anything could, and often did, happen. Now it’s all been put together into one convenient bundle. It may cost more than a dime, but the entertainment value is well worth it.

Finally, we finish up with The Big Book of Weirdos, brought to us by our old friend, Gahan Wilson. You thought your friends were weird? Try these people on for size! Adolf Hitler was weird, but King Ludwig II of Bavaria was kooky. T. E. Lawrence wasn’t exactly normal, while the mad monk Rasputin was legendary for his strange ways. Who was nuttier than a squirrel’s hoard: Edgar Allan Poe, William Burroughs, Franz Kafka, or Aleister Crowley? Trick question, they’re all here. So’s the Divine Sarah Bernhardt, Harry Houdini, and the dashing Isadora Duncan. Hollywood contributes such eccentrics as Clara Bow and Ed Wood, Jr., and society produces Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali. You must be nuts in order to create great things. Why else would Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and Nikola Tesla (my favorite ‘mad scientist’ of all time) be in here? And what was William Randolph Hearst’s weird factor? What made Sarah Winchester spend decades building a house no sane person could ever live in? How -do- you explain the Marquis de Sade to your friends? Is there any explanation possible for J. Edgar Hoover? And what’s the bizarre, fascinating story of Norton I, Emperor of the United States? If you want to find out, you may want to try this book.

That wraps it up. Seventeen books, seventeen different collections of weird, wild, bizarre, unexplained, tawdry, criminal, legal, illegal, mysterious, entertaining, amusing, morbid, religious, pathetic, nifty, embarrassing, funky, and otherwise -odd- people, places, events, fads, and themes. If you can’t find at least one to suit your tastes you might want to check your pulse and grab The Big Book of Death just in case.

You should be able to find these books in your local comic store or bookstore. If you have no luck, you can probably find them online. Just look for Paradox Press, an imprint of DC Comics. And have fun.

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The Family of Ree, The Secret of Gorbee Grotto, and The Legend of Snow Pookas, by Scott E. Sutton (Action Publishing, 2001)

Jul 15

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Young Adult | No Comments

Welcome to the Planet Ree,
Which is a very nice place to be.
Share these stories with children,
To teach them about their world they live in.

I apologize for the above, but after reading the first three releases in the Family of Ree series, written and illustrated by Scott Sutton, I found it rather difficult to think in anything but rhyme. That’s because these three books, The Family of Ree, The Secret of Gorbee Grotto, and The Legend of Snow Pookas invoke the spirit of Dr. Seuss in their own whimsical, unique manner, conveying moral messages and educational undertones even as they strive to entertain.

The Planet Ree is a far off place, a beautiful blue and green planet inhabited by a fanciful host of odd creatures who coexist in symbiotic harmony. The Talking Trees give advice to the people who take care of them, and drop acorns. The acorns develop into the landbased BeeBees or seaborne GorBees, which act as minor helpers for the other evolutionary stages. When these grow up, they become Erfs and Sea Erfs, respectively, which aid the next step up on the chain, namely Wizards and Sea Queens, who are responsible for the whole world. And when they get old, you guessed it, they become Talking Trees, thus completing the cycle. Got all that?

Then there are the Long-Legged Ploots, the northern-dwelling Snow Pooka, Spotted Tree Gings, Floating Flying Fingergin, Muppies, and the Flipping Floating Flying Floojies, as a small sampling of the other bizarre beasties populating the world. Fairly fascinating, frequently freaky, fortunately fantastical, is all I have to say. (I promise, no more alliteration.)

Each book in the series is aimed at conveying a different moral lesson. For instance, The Family of Ree is geared towards helping children understand the symbiotic relationship between all aspects of an ecosystem, and how to respect this cycle of nature. (So take care of the planet where you belong, Because it’s what you’re standing on.) It also serves to introduce us to all of these beings that live on Ree, acting as a guided tour over land and sea, showing us how everything comes to be. (I didn’t say I wouldn’t rhyme.)

The Secret of Gorbee Grotto follows the adventures of one particular Erf, Jeeter. When his normal routine is disrupted by the appearance of a mysterious light, he sets off with his master, Dundee the Wizard, to investigate. They journey to Gorbee Grotto, where they discover something most definitely not of the planet Ree: a creature called a Woodrat. The Woodrat and his people turn out to be cosmic exiles, cast adrift after their own planet perished from natural causes, ultimately coming to Ree where they could be of service through their natural calling of forest rangers. The motto of this story? “Try treating others the way you’d want them to treat you.” Especially when facing the unknown. You never know when you’ll make a new friend.

The Legend of Snow Pookas takes us up north, to the frozen wasteslands at the top of Planet Ree, where bizarre three legged people known as the Snow Pookas dwell peacefully. Who are they? What are they? What role do they play in the ecosystem? The Erf Jeeter and the Wizard Dundee are determined to find out. Imagine how surprised our heroes are when they realize that the Snow Pookas do the same things they do, only adapted for the cold. The moral? “Take care of the young ones, that’s how it goes… Respect the old ones and help them with stuff.”

The true strength of these books clearly isn’t in the rhymes, which I found a bit forced, and even difficult to read aloud at times, but in the artwork, which is beautiful. Stylistic and brightly colored, children will adore the whimsical drawings of the imaginative inhabitants of Planet Ree, which tend towards round, friendly curves and bright smiles. By turns goofy and joyful, the drawings stand out on every page, eye-catching without going overboard.

On the flip side, the story portion isn’t as strong. The rhyming scheme is simplistic, and often forced, and the tongue-twisting alliteration is occasionally overboard. I gave it the read-aloud test for good measure, and tripped over my tongue halfway through a recitation of the “Flipping Floating Flying Floojie.” However, properly coached or practiced, a parent could probably turn reading these books out loud into quite the production. I suspect that the younger audience will greatly enjoy the theatrical presentation of their parents gamely reciting some of these stories.

In general, I found The Family of Ree books to be a mixed, but interesting experience. The artwork is strong, the concepts extremely creative, and the morals important. I’ve no doubt that they’ll go over well with children, and the parents had better get used to pronouncing names like Seagoing Splishes and Bobbing Bungalla Bingallees. For more information on Scott Sutton and The Family of Ree, check out their presence on the Web at www.actionpublishing.com.

Thank you for listening to my humble review
I truly hope that I’ve managed to help you,
Telling you all about the Planet Ree
And the wonderful things you’ll see.

(Sorry, couldn’t resist. Done now. Honest.)

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