The 40 Years of Comics Project - Day 795: True North II, 1991

The first of the inevitable slew of comics I've picked up at the con this weekend. This issue features 53 different creators (so I will not be tagging them all) doing 2-4 page stories about censorship. It's perhaps a little-known fact that the Canadian border is (or was) quite restrictive on what kinds of comics could be shipped to comic stores in Canada. This comic comes about as a direct result of the Toronto police actually raiding stores in the city, and, I think, Aircel Publishing's warehouse, on charges of distributing pornography to minors and obscenity. Back when I had my comic store, Diamond Comics simply refused to ship anything even remotely "mature" across the border because there was no way they could guarantee that the comics would ever reach the stores they were meant for.

The editorial on the back page articulates the argument against this kind of censorship quite well. Derek McCulloch notes that "[m]any of the comic books I find myself...called upon to defend are ones I find personally repugnant...No matter what I may think of this title or that, though, there is presumably someone out there who...read them and enjoy [sic] them; it would be a gross kind of hubris for me to think my opinion of the material superseded anyone else's." This is absolutely the crux. While we have governments in place to maintain a particular level of civilized discourse and conduct, such strictures have a way of becoming restrictures, when one person, or a small group of people come to believe that the way they think of things is obviously the best way.

Oh. Right. We live in Trump's world now. You know these things already.

Some of the comics in today's selection were really cool, some not quite to my taste. But that's the point of art, right? We all have our own tastes, and we should all be able, as long as we're not hurting anyone, to indulge them.

To be continued.

The 40 Years of Comics Project - Day 725: Terraformers #1, April 1987

There are two really interesting things going on in this comic.

First, this has got to be pretty early Kelley Jones art, probably done some time while he was toiling away on Micronauts. It's not quite as polished as I'm used to seeing him, which could have to do with the inker he's working with. Jones, to me, has much more shadow on his figures. But it's cool to see art from an artist relatively early in their career, especially one as distinctive and impressive as Jones. If you're never had a chance to look at his work on the Batman books, on The Crusades, or in The Sandman, do yourself a favour.

The other interesting thing is that this is a Mecha comic. It's about teams of people piloting giant terraforming robots. The human/machine interface is basically identical to the one in Pacific Rim, and the premise seems to be coming straight from Japan. However, if anything, it's the least manga/anime-inspired giant robot story I've ever seen. From the robot design to the cast of characters (who spend much of this issue, when not piloting the robots, preparing to go on strike), to Jones' style of art. Perhaps it's that, that there's almost no influence of manga on the art. Even when we come to such Western comics styled series as Tokyo Storm Warning, particular tropes from the manga inspirations seeps in. But not so with Terraformers. It's a Western Mecha comic, and as such, is pretty neat.

To be continued.

The 40 Years of Comics Project - The Weekly Graphic Novel: Week 28 - Doom Patrol: Down Paradise Way, 2005

While I was taking a brief break from reading this book, my son came downstairs, saw the cover, and asked "So, reading some Japanese porn, Dad?" He, of course, knew better, having read Doom Patrol a couple of times at least, but he's certainly not wrong about that cover.

In my introductory piece for the first volume of the series, I mention that Rhea Jones is in a coma, and over the course of the last couple of volumes, she's featured a few times, though still in her comatose state. Rhea comes to the front and center, and not just of the cover, in this volume, but not before Morrison and Case introduce one of the greatest characters in writing, not just comics: Danny the Street.

Danny is a sentient, transvestite street who travels from city to city, location to location, just quietly inserting himself into the surrounding landscapes and giving the odd and disenfranchised a place to live and to belong. He talks through letters on his shop windows, or the steam rising from a grate on his roadway, and dresses his "good macho stores," as Mr. Jones, leader of the Men from N.O.W.H.E.R.E., the villains of the piece, says, "in fairy lights and lace curtains." Danny is wonderful, and only grows more so as the series progresses, and it's been a delight for me in the Doom Patrol series that have followed this one that the character has been brought back time and again, most recently in Gerard Way's latest take on the team.

And, of course, when a street just shows up in a random neighbourhood, the Doom Patrol arrive and enter the fray with, as usual, little idea of what's actually going on. After a brief battle (read: storyline), the DP return to their headquarters to find a newly-awakened and transformed Rhea, who is subsequently...

Oh, hang on a sec. Danny returns later in the series, but one other character who is introduced in this early story is someone who goes on to star in his own series, one that I could happily spend the rest of my life thinking about and writing about: Flex Mentallo. I will talk, inevitably, at length about Flex, about the Pentagon Horror story (next volume), and his own mini-series that introduced me to the work of Frank Quitely.

Anyway, Rhea is subsequently abducted (along with Rebis) by aliens who think she's the key to their winning an eons-old war, and the rest of the team follows them into space with representatives of the other side of the war. As I read this story line, I started wondering if Morrison wasn't offering an interesting look/criticism (that "/" is actually an in-joke for people who've read this story) at literary theory, specifically at the different contentions between early 20th century New Critical thinking and mid-20th century Deconstructive Criticism, embodied in the cultures of the Insect Mesh and the Geomancers of the Kaleidoscape. Considering that the previous volume takes on 20th century artistic movements, I wouldn't be surprised if this one took on literary movements. But that's something I think deserves a far deeper look, so I won't delve into it here. As with the previous stories, this one throws bizarre creatures and concepts at us (the Geomancers manipulate space to bring locations to them, rather than travelling themselves), and Rhea does end up ending the war, though not in the way that any of the players involved had hoped. She rockets off into space afterward, never to be heard from again (at least, not yet), leaving the rest of the team on an alien planet. How do they get home? Will they get home?

What is the Dead Hand? Who are the Men in Green? "Watson, come here. I need you."