The second volume by Paul on DC history (drawn from and expanding on the even more massive “75 Years of DC Comics”) covers 1956-70, and encompasses the comics of my childhood, at least those put out by DC. If you were a comics reader in this period, you’ll enjoy all the wonderful pictures of the covers, interior pages and descriptions of the series, genres, editors, writers, and of course the artists. I liked the fact that some of the comics covers were worn and well-read, rather than all the best possible pristine copies. Some of the more important creators get a spotlight of several pages, others just a paragraph, but it’s a large subject, and even with 400 pages to fill, not everything can be covered in depth. I was already familiar with most of the subject matter, so there wasn’t as much new material for me here, though I did miss plenty of the comics from the time, and it was fun to see so many of them represented. Continue reading
About a month ago, when Winter was getting me down, I found rereading this childhood favorite a good antidote. One of writer/illustrator Lawson’s best and best known books is “Rabbit Hill,” but this sequel is nearly as good. The setting is Lawson’s actual home in Westport, Connecticut, but the talking animals are pure whimsy. Very entertaining all the same. When Lawson and his wife head south for the winter, they hire a house-sitter who is a very poor replacement in the eyes of the many animals on and around the property, who Lawson has been feeding regularly. When the caretaker arrives, that’s clearly over, and the caretaker’s foolish dog, while no real threat to the wise country critters, is still very annoying. Winter hits hard with lots of snow, and while young Georgie Rabbit and his friend Willie Fieldmouse find it all a great adventure, many residents are forced to move to other farms and homes where they can find food. Even Georgie’s mother is sent off to relatives while Georgie’s father and Uncle Analdas decide to tough it out. Before long they’re starving and desperate, but the younger creatures manage to keep the fun in their winter travails, as can be seen in the cover picture above. Lawson’s illustrations for this book are in lush and detailed pencil, only colored on the cover, but there are lots of them, and they’re wonderful. Yes, the animals act more like people much of the time, foibles and all, but that’s part of the charm of this delightful story.
Editor Jon B. Cooke worked on this thick volume (with tiny type) for about ten years, and as with all his work, it’s thoroughly detailed and well-researched. The bulk of it is interviews that ask the right questions. In trying for a comprehensive look at swamp creatures that walk like men, Jon dove into areas that don’t interest me, so I didn’t read about The Heap, The Glob, The Bog-Beast and others, but I enjoyed reading about Man-Thing and Swamp Thing. The latter creature gets the most coverage due to illuminating interviews with Len Wein, Bernie Wrightson, Alan Moore, Steve Bissette, Rick Veitch and John Totleben. If you ever wanted to know more on that subject, you’re likely to find it here. Lots of rare art and photos are within as well. Man-Thing is a comic I never read until I lettered it not long ago (the final Man-Thing story by Steve Gerber), and the coverage on it here is equally excellent: interviews with Steve Gerber, Val Mayerik, Mike Ploog and Jim Mooney. Well done.
When I was young, I read lots of short stories, including the entire contents of several monthly science fiction/fantasy magazines. At some point my interest drifted away to longer stories, and even in a collection like this, I find the longer ones tend to appeal to me more. There’s room to care about the characters, and the longer stories tend to be deeper. I had already read “The Truth is a Cave in the Black Mountains…” and loved it, and I think it’s still my favorite of all the stories here. It has the full flavor of myth, in that it doesn’t feel made up, but reported as truth. Very powerful.
“The Case of Death and Honey” is the best Sherlock Holmes story I’ve read not by the original author A. Conan Doyle. It’s not a pastiche or homage, it’s a unique and brilliant use of Doyle’s main character in ways that feel right and correct, telling a story that transcends the usual murder mystery.
“Nothing O’Clock” is a Dr. Who story. I used to enjoy watching Dr. Who in the 1980s, when tons of the old ones were rebroadcast on PBS. My favorite Doctor was Tom Baker, I never warmed to the others in the same way. I’ve tried watching the newer revival, and found it didn’t work for me, not sure why. I enjoyed the story, but it assumes a lot of Dr. Who business as known to the reader, and so I feel doesn’t stand on its own as well as it might.
“The Sleeper and the Spindle” is a fine rethinking of some old fairy tales, but the intricate plot seems to be in control more than the characters. That could be said of the originals too, and I liked it all the same.
“Black Dog” is a tale of Shadow from Neil’s “American Gods,” and while it’s off the main character’s path in some ways, the prose and plot are very effective. Things happen organically in a way that reminded me of the books of William Mayne, whose trick is to have the narrator never in possession of the whole story. Neil doesn’t quite do that, but it hit me in a similar way. Nicely done.
Those are my favorites. Of the shorter ones, I was most amused by “Adventure Story,” which is perhaps the perfect post-modern version of a pulp adventure tale.
Recommended, of course!
Having read the “Wee Free Men” series by Terry Pratchett, which I enjoyed thoroughly, and one Discworld one-shot, I decided to read another of his books that’s more part of the main Discworld mythology. This one seemed recommended by many readers, as a good way to get a handle on Discworld. And, as it involves and explains the many gods of the series, it succeeded in that.
At first I found it not too engaging, though, as none of the characters appealed to me. The story takes place in Omnia, largely in a great city devoted to the worship of their god Om. But we soon find that god has fallen very low. He’s stuck in the body of an ordinary tortoise, and only one person can hear his voice: a simple-minded acolyte named Brutha. As it turns out, while nominally the god of Omnia, in practice no one really believes in him anymore except simple, faithful Brutha. Om and Brutha begin a long process of trying to change that, and soon find themselves on a visit to the distant land of Ephebe where many gods are worshipped, but more credence is given to philosophers, who are granted all kinds of special treatment. The leader of Omnia’s Inquisition is a nasty and powerful man called Vorbis, and he’s planning to overthrow Ephebe. He soon discovers that Brutha has special powers of memory: he remembers everything he sees and hears, and Vorbis enlists Brutha in his schemes, to the dismay of both Brutha and Om, still in a tortoise, still trying to get some respect.
As the book went on, I began to enjoy the characters of crochety Om and idiot savant Brutha, even as I rooted with them against Vorbis. There are plenty of twists in the plot, and a large amount of Pratchett humor in the book. In all, I enjoyed it, though not as much as others I’ve read.