The Holiday Reading Pile Part II

Yesterday I started a post writing up some quick reviews of a stack of comics I had enjoyed reading on a recent short break.

Sadly, that break is now over and I find myself back at the daily grind, but I wanted to keep up the impetus I had set going and at least finish making my way through the stack of books that had inspired me to write again. 

So, picking up where I left off yesterday, with a real gem ...

Camera Obscura: A 24 Hour Comic by Jens K Styve

I first came across Jens a while back on Twitter and have been looking forward to the opportunity to pick up one of his books. For me, the experience of reading online, as much fun as it can be, is never quite the same as holding a comic in your hands. I warmed to his style very quickly, a lovely scratchy, fluid penmanship, with beautifully rendered cartoony characters brimming over with personality. Camera Obscura is the first of two books I picked from his site (more on the second shortly) and as a 24 hour comic, a really good example of his imagination unleashed on the page, with subtle watercolours perfectly enhancing the story of photographer commissioned to take a portrait of Death, hinting at the fading sepia-tones of old photographs throughout. It's a testament to Jens' abilities as a visual storyteller that it took me a second read-through to notice Camera Obscura is a silent comic, relying briefly on visual captions to suggest sound effects, and a smattering of punctuation to indicate conversation never elaborated on. And in the tradition of the great silent comedies, which it seems to embody, Camera Obscura is not left wanting for that omission, relying ably on some neatly-crafted and expressive body language and some melodramatic exaggerated facials to carry its poignant and charmingly funny tale. For me, Jens marks himself here as an accomplished story, not least because of the limitations of the 24-hour challenge and the fact he has created something so perfectly well formed within that time, but for the deft way he handles the humour of the book, something not easy to pull off, but served up so naturally here. I'll be rooting out more Jens K Styve, and I highly recommend you do the same at the first available opportunity (I'll give you a hint - you can find him @jenskstyve).

Jens K #1 by Jens K Styve 

This is actually the book that I led me to buy Camera Obscura in the first place. As I said, I found Jens on Twitter a while back via his diary comics and immediately fell in love with his art style - in which I see a little Ralph Steadman and a little Quentin Blake. His simplistic character designs are deceptive and brimming over with life and vitality in a way that is surprising and deeply human. Like the best diary cartoonists, he is unflinchingly honest and the self deprecating way he presents his own avatar here, allows the reader to peel back layer after layer of the onion that is the man behind the book. I loved Jens K #1 from the minute I opened the envelope it shipped to me in, the gorgeous front cover depiction of Jens bathing in a giant sized cup of coffee, still wearing the bizarre pixie hat he draws himself in along with a broad smug smile, gave me cause to expect something special. And I wasn't disappointed. It reminds me in many ways of Martin Kellerman's excellent Rocky, possibly in its sardonic sense of humour (here hilariously represented by Jens' cough and the grim hypercondria that slowly inspires in him over the course of the month this issue charts). As in Camera Obscura Styve's solid grasp of the basic tenets of good cartooning are on show here. Again he shows an uncanny knack to express a complex range of emotions in his cast, varying from simple expressions to exaggerated, cartoonish gurning facials with the flick of his pen, often using little more than two dots and a wavy line to expressive and hilarious effect, reminding me of luminaries like Bill Watterson. And like those great artists, Styve's strips are frequently funny, with a neat blend of physical comedy, often surreal and fantastical situational comedy and punchy, witty dialogue, hinting at a dark, wry sense of humour that certainly appeals to this reader. Styve explains on the inside front cover that his inspiration to start drawing daily strips came, in part, when the sun returned to his home town of Tromso, in Norway, after the two months of complete darkness inhabitants go through in that area every winter. He describes how that darkness can dampen productivity as well as the moods of the people living there, and the explosion of creativity he felt this year when the lights came back on. Well, if this is what comes out of that change in the seasons, I can say without reservation, I am truly looking forward to the next ten months. At the same time though, part of me wonders to what dark corners that twisted sense of humour and imagination might go in those winter months. I for one, intend to be around to find out. 

One Sunday - Kristyna Bacynski

I'm a huge fan of Kristyna. I think she's one of the most quietly talented comics creators currently on the UK small press scene and I make a beeline for her work at every opportunity. For once I noticed Hourly Comic Day this year and while struggling to create my own and participate, I was buoyed and thoroughly inspired watching some of the exceptionally gifted artists that I follow on Twitter as they churned out their own offerings. Having been blown away in the past by a 24 Hour Comic she produced, it was no surprise to see her turn her hand to this challenge, but even with that in mind, the work she produced on that day, within the limitations of the timeframe available, was astounding. I hoped at the time she would collect them, so I was thrilled to see her solicit One Sunday and snagged one at the first opportunity. I wasn't disappointed when I finally sat down to reread it. Accomplished and polished as ever, the fine meticulous, detail, which for me, is synonymous with Bacynski's style, creates something new here, emphasising the intimacy of the autobiographical strips and the moments of the author's life they invite you to share. The portrait Bacynski draws here of a windy Sunday with her fiancé and family, is warm and welcoming, evocative and visceral. When her partner confidently names it 'a hot porridge day', we know just what he means, and we can almost smell and taste the hot, steaming bowl of oats and jam Bacynski then makes. The depth in her images seem almost effortless. A simple array of markings and tones create textures and patterns that give the impression of a real home, one that is lived in and loved, and one to which our author knows every detail intimately. I'm a huge fan of autobiographical comics, and I'm always impressed by the way artists respond to these, incredibly demanding, drawing challenges. Here, Bacynski has drawn a window into her life which is honest and brave, warm and welcoming, intricate and intimate and an absolute joy to read. Books like this are why I love comics and why I want to make comics. 

Vessel - Kristyna Bacynski 

Reading Vessel immediately after One Sunday creates some interesting comparisons. Both are clearly autobiographical to a degree, both are deeply personal and powerful, both are intricate and beautifully drawn in Kristyna's very unique style. At the same time however, there are a number of things which set the two books apart and help each stand alone as vital additions to the author's burgeoning portfolio. Reading Vessel it becomes clear the artwork of One Sunday - while more detailed than many artists could hope to achieve with weeks to spare - is Kristyna working under the demanding limitations of the hourly comic challenge. In Vessel, the art is refined and polished, lines are clean and assured and strong. This creates more of a cinematic effect than the 'open window' of One Sunday, and helps to animate the anthropomorphised characters Bacynski uses as avatars here. Those character designs are actually part of a neat trick Bacynski plays on her readers. By placing her character in mundane surroundings, she lulls us into a false sense of security. Presenting a bedroom that could be anyone's, showing us a parade of meaningless jobs which are probably familiar to more than a few of us, we come to believe this world is our own, forgetting the flag the unfamiliar features of the main character should represent. This assumption, like a comfortable rug beneath our feet, is pulled out from under us when our hero makes the decision to act and to live her life to the full. The following pages are incredible, but I won't spoil them here. Suffice to say Bacynski lets the world around her explode visually, much as it must do internally for our heroine, who has opened up her own 'vessel' to be filled by the world around her. There's a deeply affecting message in this work, as there often is in comics poetry Bacynski writes. I think it was that message which compelled me to share Vessel the second I finished it. My partner, a non-comics fan, read it stood next to me and as she reached the end, she looked up at me smiling, the hint of a tear in her eye, and said, 'it's me'. And I think therein lies the magic of this book. It is her. It is me. It is Bacynski. It is each and every one of us striving to make sense of the world and desperate to be filled by it. It's a call to arms to not waste our lives, to reach for everything that seems out of reach and realise our reach is longer than we ever imagined. I've rambled here I know, but Vessel is another truly wonderful book by A wonderful comic creator and it would not be of use to pick it apart page by page. Instead I wanted to share some of how it made me feel. That's Bacynski's power as a cartoonist and honestly, it's one that sets her apart over and over again. 

Wytches - Snyder, Jock, Hollinsworth and Robins - Image

Honestly I was disappointed by Wytches. I bought it because I kept hearing people talk about how scary it was and in my experience that is something comics are so rarely capable of. I grew to appreciate the entertainment value in being frightened late in life. As a child I was scared of the monsters in horror films I had never even seen - and wouldn't dare watch in a million years. I frequently retreated to my room when my mother and sister watched something scary and I was even a little scared of the covers of the macabre books my mum kept by her bedside (The Hunter in the Dark still holds some power over me to this day). It was my partner that taught me how much fun a good horror film can be, and I'm practically a convert now, I love the feeling of overwhelming angst a good movie can inspire, the breathlessness as a scene unfolds. I buy completely in, to the movement of the camera, the soundtrack, the often convoluted mythology in which some modern films wrap themselves, all of it. I thrive on them. So I wanted this to be comics answer to that pleasure, desperately. And it isn't. Wytches is not the least bit scary. The story is ok, it's not particularly revolutionary and follows some pretty standard development. Actually at points I realised it was probably not a bad pitch for a movie, and potentially would work better as one than it does as a comic. The characters are fine, if a little trite. The monsters, the titular Wytches - and honestly I wonder whether there was any good reason to use a 'y' rather than an 'i' or whether that's not the modern equivalent of adding a 'z' to be cool - are ok, a little faceless and short of substance. Perhaps that will come in later volumes as we explore the apparent resistance to their historical threat. Snyder's writing is polished, it would be a surprise if it wasn't, but for me, it offered few surprises and few memorable moments (outside of the 'chit!chit!chit!' sound effect anyway). The artwork is good too. It fits the themes and Jock's spidery, scratchy style lends itself well to the misshapen beasts of the piece, especially when coupled with Hollinsworth's moody palette. I didn't hate it and it's not bad, but I just had this expectation it would be so much more. And it's not that comics can't be scary. One book notably scared the bejeezus out of me earlier this year and if anyone does fancy a fright you can't go wrong with And Then Emily Was Gone. Perhaps Wytches will develop into something more, but I doubt very much whether I'll be around to see if it does.