G.I.Joe Volume One

I have a fondness for comics based on toys. This is based on my having grown up in the Seventies, where I fell in love with Marvel's toy based comics. Memorable titles from my youth were Doug Moench's run on the giant robot comic Shogun Warriors and the superb first 12 issues of Bill Mantlo and Michael Golden's Micronauts.  The latter in particular was especially important to me, since it was one of the rare comics--toy based or otherwise--where things actually changed and didn't revert back.

This has led me to give almost any comic based on a toy or video game a shot. And that brings us to IDW's G.I. Joe.

I never watched the cartoon when it was around, so my only real experience with the Joes have been the abysmal movies and the comics. So while many readers would approach this book with memory glasses firmly in place, I came just hoping for a good read.

And it was. This collection sets up the initial conflicts between the Joes and the mysterious evil organization of Cobra. Destro--he of the silver face mask--also plays a vital role, with all three major character groups either learning of one another and/or exchanging panels of gunfire.

The script is by longtime comic writer Chuck Dixon, with an unsurprisingly airport thriller approach to the military. Everyone in the Joes--male and female--are clearly not to be fucked with, with the only soft side to their personalities being their code names. The strongest characters with the most focus are Scarlett for the Joes and the cold and calculating Baroness for Cobra. (Scarlett is in this so much that there is a meta joke that she should maybe change her code name to 'Multi-Task'.)

Robert Atkins' art is crisp, with some great use of colour.  The book has a competent flow to the pages, even when Atkins has to present battle scenes with various POVs.  There is no photocopying or use of block colouring to fill in panels, so you know this book was made with care.

It was a fun read. Once again, toys and comics make a great mix, at least for me.

Roadside Picnic

What struck me the most about Roadside Picnic is how it felt like it could have been written last year.  With the prevalence of doomed world stories and the popularity of games like Fallout and Metro 2033, Picnic feels like something written to cash in on that popularity. But no--this is the work that clearly inspired those things.

Roadside Picnic tells the story of how the world fares after an alien invasion, but an invasion where the aliens didn't pay that much attention to the humans whose planet they briefly hung out on. Having only stayed for two days, the aliens departed, but left a lot of junk behind in six different areas of the Earth. It is the dangerous acquisition of these even more dangerous items and how that affects those who venture into these 'Zones' for a bit of profit that is the core of Roadside Picnic's story.

The book is bleak as the items the stalkers (the term for those who enter the Zones) are curious. There are no clear answers as to what happened, or what will happen next. As Ursula Le Guin points out in her introduction,  the Strugatsky's focus on the everyday people and how this Visit affected them. As it would undoubtedly be if and when we meet alien life, there will be a lot of confusion and no real governmental direction. And maybe that's another reason why Roadside Picnic feels so current--it nails exactly how things would occur.

A wonderful book.

Naomi #1

A few weeks ago I was in my local comic shop and noticed a copy of Naomi on the wall going for an eye-widening price. I asked the owner why it was so expensive, and he replied that the title was extremely popular. He then said he liked it himself, so when a reprint of #1 came out, I picked it up.

After reading it, though, all I felt was annoyance.

Now, I understand that Naomi is part of DC Comics' Wonder Comics imprint, aimed at a teen audience. I am at least three decades from being a teenager. Still, Brian Michael Bendis is shepherding this endeavour, a writer that I have often enjoyed, so what could go wrong?

Well, a few things. Let's put them in order.

1. This book cost me over $5 Canadian, taking into account the glories of the current American exchange. For five dollars I received very little in the way of story.

2. The selling point of this new series is 'the biggest new mystery' of the DC Universe. But we are given no reasons to care what this mystery may be, other than Naomi's own interest, which isn't about the DC Universe at all but only her own teenage, self absorbed interest.

3.Naomi herself. In any mystery, the reader should have some interest or connection with the investigator (the lead character). But we learn nothing really about Naomi.  Well, we did learn that she's 17, she spends time on her phone (even when she's supposed to be working), she has a Superman obsession, she's in therapy because of issues and oh, yes, she feels special in some undefined, but probably awesome, way.

4. Her friends are equally annoying and undefined. One friend dresses like a goth but totally really thinks Superman is cool. Another friend is just constantly giddy. She dances around for no reason, and likes to hug Naomi.She also has pink hair.  When Naomi is upset, she suggests they eat, undoubtedly before she bursts into laughter again and spins a pirouette. Character work at its best.

5. The mystery itself is--shocking!--related to Naomi. And the only person who has any knowledge about it is someone who looks weird. Everyone else in this town is either giddy or clearly hiding something, but will still talk to a teenager about aforementioned mystery because adults don't have anything else to do.

6. The art by Jamal Campbell is beautiful. But he clearly uses cut and paste on one page, moving one image to another panel while using the same background over and over. It's a small thing, but I don't pay for comics for artists to take shortcuts. If an artist is taking shortcuts, then reduce the cover price.

7. Naomi reads like a checklist designed to attract younger readers, but for all the wrong reasons.  There isn't a focus to create characters as much as there is a need to have readers see themselves on the page. The idea that a teen reader would care about a mystery about the DC Universe is ludicrous. I don't see any teenagers buying comics in my store, only sad men in their thirties and forties. They care about stuff like the DC Universe, and characters, and good stories. You know, the audience Marvel and DC forgot about years ago. Oh, sorry, like, my cynicism totally slipped out.


While trying to attract teen readers is a good idea on paper--and probably sounds great in board meetings--the one thing DC and Marvel fail to acknowledge is that teenagers may be interested in books like Naomi, but they won't pay for it. They will download it off a pirate site, even if they think to look for the next issue, which is in itself a big ask.  They'll torrent manga and anime all day, but ask them to lay cash on a counter--virtual or otherwise--and they'll roll their eyes.

In the end, Naomi wasn't for me, and was never intended to be. If Bendis and co-writer David F Walker had spent more time building characters everyone could relate to, maybe I would have picked up a second issue. But as it is, this just brought the day I stop buying all American super hero books that much closer.

We Never Learn Volume One

In a futile attempt to broaden my diminishing horizons, I thought I'd read something I've never read before: a romance manga. Leave the classics to another day.

Written and drawn by Taishi Tsutsui, We Never Learn tells the story of high schooler Nariyuki Yuiga who is working desperately to win a scholarship because his family is poor, courtesy of a dead yet still inspirational parent. His principal agrees to give the desperate Yuiga the nomination for this salvational scholarship on the condition that he tutor first two, then three, other students.  Of course it isn't that easy, because these students are all superstars in their own fields but have terrible blind spots that Yuiga must overcome with his power of super-tutoring.

His charges include Fumino Furahashi, a wistful ace in humanities and creative writing who wants to study the sciences but freaks out over anything math related; Rizu Ogata, who is compared to a calculator because of her speed in finishing math problems, but of course wants a future in the arts field because she is perplexed by the one problem she can't solve: human emotions; and finally, Uruka Takemoto, who is maybe the best swimmer in the universe but has the attention span of a gnat.

This volume introduces each character and shows Yuiga's attempts to find a way to help them. We learn about their little quirks and peculiarities, from Fumino's belief that her dead mother is perhaps a star in the sky, Rizu's sad habit of playing games by herself, and Uruka having a crush on Yuiga,and her selfish desire to be liked by Yuiga more than he likes the others.

Uruka takes up most of the active romance angle here, since the others seem too wrapped up in themselves to even notice Yuiga as something other than yet another tutor. There are brief glimpses of  romantic insight as both Fumino and Rizu notice how kind Yuiga is, but their dedication to school soon eclipses that. In fact, other than Uruka, the only one who seems generally interested in Yuiga is his own sister, who freaks out at these new girls in her brother's life. Maybe it's a cultural thing.

In lieu of romance, though, we get quite a few jokes, most of which either centre around misunderstandings, (Yuiga tackles Uruka because of reasons,  which the others see as a rather forceful make out session)  mistakes that are interpreted as inappropriate (Uruka mistakenly sends Yuiga one of her swimsuits as a gift , which could be interpreted as a possible fantasy aid, since she is forever waltzing around in her Speedo,)  and/or boobs. To this end, there is helpful gradation of cup sizes for comedic purposes, with Fumino being the smallest, Uruka being larger and Rizu being so large that Yuiga's siblings take note and shout out how large her breasts are when they first meet her. Maybe it's a cultural thing.

(Or it's just an attempt to win over shonen readers who find this romance manga in their beloved Jump. A little from column A, a little from column B.)

We Never Learn is oddly enjoyable, with each chapter either highlighting a character insight with Deep Emotion or climaxing in yet another blushworthy inappropriate comment or unexpected physical entanglement. There are also actual study aids thrown into the mix, so a reader might actually learn something, when they aren't waiting for another full panel of Uruka's backside as she dives into yet another pool, or Rizu putting on a tight bathing suit, or Fumino taking a bath, or....

The Doorbell Rang

I have never read a Rex Stout mystery before. This isn't what I expected.

I had thought this would be a bit of a cosy: a polite murder would have occurred, a mystery would ensue, and Nero Wolfe would solve it, then the story would end as he sipped cognac beside a fire. Nothing too challenging.

What I found instead was a story about misuse of power by the FBI, with a very dismissive attitude towards the then head of the FBI, J. Edgar Hoover.  Published in 1963, I can't imagine how this would have gone over. It would be like a mystery being written now today with Trump being the one under suspicion. There is no clever misdirection or you know who I'm talking about here sleight of narrative hand: Stout is very clear who and what he is talking about.

If you have never read a Nero Wolfe mystery before, here's a quick primer:

Nero Wolfe is an overweight detective who apparently dislikes to leave his home in New York. He has a main operative, Archie Goodwin, who does all the running about New York to gather clues and run investigations while Wolfe luxuriates with his orchids and reads his many books.

Wolfe seems to take work begrudgingly, and so is intrigued when he's offered a job with enough of a payday that he could take the rest of the year off. The job, though, is to stop the FBI from harassing a client. A wealthy client who may have very well pissed off the FBI herself by sending out piles of books to people, a book that points out what a shitshow the FBI is. No wonder they might be applying the screws.

The Doorbell Rang is a strange mystery, in that the enemy--in this case, the FBI--is very nebulous. Maybe the FBI is watching them, or maybe they aren't. Maybe their client isn't being harassed. Or maybe she is, and maybe--just maybe-- the FBI is misusing their power to such a degree that Wolfe and Goodwin are taking on of the most powerful organizations in the world, with all the danger and threat that entails.

With the fog of mystery surrounding the actions of both Wolfe and Goodwin,, Stout wisely introduces a more standard crime as a sub-plot, grounding the story with at least one murder they can physically interact with. As the story concludes, both mysteries are resolved well, with the title of the book suddenly making sense.

Set in early Sixties New York, I enjoyed all the references to a time long gone: a time when detectives used pay phones, asked cabbies to lose tails, and would ruminate about a case while having a corn beef on rye in a diner. Goodwin is a pleasant guy to hang out with for a few hours, with his overriding sarcasm and offbeat humour, and readiness to lay the boots to anyone who has it coming.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this.