Mic Check, One Two, One Two

Podcasts, Eel Mansions and Storm Dogs

I got to 'live the dream' (sort of) these past two weeks by guest-hosting on two of my favorite comic book podcasts: The Two Headed Nerd Comicast and Panel Culture. As much as I would like to host my own podcast or fill-in on a semi-regular basis … it's a lot of damn work.

 

In my experience, a successful broadcaster (especially in radio) needs two things: the skill to never run out of things to say and a sense of amity. Silence is the killer and so too is insincerity. If you can't fill the space or if you show any sense of phoniness, you're dead. Neither of these 'casts have to worry about such puny problems. So, my thanks go to Joe and Matt and Charles, Owen and George for the opportunity for this ink-stained scribbler to be both 'internet famous' and 'BIG in Canada' in the span of about seven days.

As if podcasting isn't enough of a collaborative act, I also spent time last week in an attempt to one-up Daniel Elkin and Justin Giampaoli on an essay about Eel Mansions by Derek Van Gieson. I've tried to avoid small press publications if only because I know if I give in I won't be able to stop myself. Small press comics may be more hit-and-miss, however, when they hit, watch out. At (only) thirty-eight pages, Eel Mansions is a monster. We wrote almost five thousand words about this black and white beauty of non sequiturs, in-jokes and out-and-out weirdness and there is still more we could have talked about. Eel Mansions is a giver and for $7 shipped it's a steal.

 
Last, but not least, my bi-monthly contribution to 'Shotgun Blurbs'-- Justin's column on Thirteen Minutes dedicated to creator-owned work -- went up this week. I wrote about Storm Dogs from Image Comics by creators David Hine, Doug Braithwaite, and Ulises Arreola. David Hine is a thinker. (re)Reading Storm Dogs gave me insights into how far Hine has gone to think about the setting and characters he and Braithwaite have created. He backdoors the world-building in the same ways Lucas did with 'Star Wars' with offhand mentions to past events which only further the reader's imagination.
 

Hit the hyperlinks for more: Storm Dogs, Eel Mansions, Two-Headed Nerd, Panel Culture.

And do yourself a kindness, huh? Go to Uncivilized Books and buy a couple of copies of Eel Mansions.

Roll-Call

This Thing of Ours

In a fit of what I can only imagine as rapturous, card-carrying nerd and internet nice guy, Aaron Meyers tweeted: ''Seriously, how great is the comic's community on twitter? You folks are fantastic.'' It's true. The virtual LCS that everyone else calls the internet (or web) is up to its cyclopean visor in fervent and fast friends who wanna talk some comics. It ain't no pajama party, nobody's braiding nobody's hair, there is, however, a lot of talk about boys, but, sadly, there are no pillow fights. It's competitive, so you better come correct. The comic-book-store-guy snark that the 'straights' think comic books culture is about, look for it somewhere else, bub.

Your humble narrator hasn't been idle even though IiSF? has (I admit) been a bit sparse as of late. I've been working on my EGOT or whatever the comic book blogger equivalent is. I'm still slaving away for the best publisher and co-conspirator a guy could ask for, Comics Bulletin's grand poobah, Jason Sacks. Along with the Jerry to my Joe, Daniel Elkin, there are more reviews waiting in the wings, one of which contains this nugget of Elkin erudition: ''It's that intense desire that you are overwhelmed with at the sight of a person or an object – the one upon which you have that deep animal longing to rub your genitalia;'' and this from Sacks: ''an insanely appropriate and insanely wonderful Japanese WMD that looks to the past and to the future ...'' Yeah, these guys are the balls.

 

If you haven't read the interview I did for CB with Rachel Deering, by all means go, do. Deering is as smart and candid as anyone I've interviewed in seventeen years as a television reporter/photographer. Often the most candid interviewees have axes to grind and so caught up in their own passions that they come off as insulated and aloof. Deering is passionate, no doubt, but down-to-earth and honest. She's got one of the best horror comics going, Anathema, and when she makes the big time, watch out.

 

To spread the Sophisticated Fun around I got asked to write for a new website for one of my favorite comic book podcasts, The Two-Headed Nerd Comicast. I've written about Joe and Matt here before, so when they asked if I'd contribute I jumped at the chance and hoped not be a pimple on the (Two-Headed Nerd) ass of progress. The essay I wrote was about how I've been lukewarm on Saga. Funny story, Saga slurper (I kid because I $3.99 like), Owen K. Craig of Panel Culture very congenially pointed out that I had spelled Saga scribe Brian K. Vaughan's surname as Vaughn. Craig could have dinged me for such an obvious and egregious mistake. Instead, he complemented me on my opinion, valiantly defended his boy Vaughan, and mentioned in a demure direct message on Twitter that I had misspelled his master's name. That's how you come correct without coming off like a prick. Be 'the Owen.'

 

These roll call posts wouldn't be complete without a mention of my blog-father, Justin Giampaoli of the incomparable Thirteen Minutes. I wrote a review of Mind MGMT, for what Justin has (now) christened a recurring feature called 'shotgun blurbs' about creator-owned comics. In his 'no-nonsense, icy Walter-White-like efficiency, Giampaoli wanted to know, in 300 words or less: what the comic is about and why should someone buy it. My latest 'blast,' so-to-speak, is aimed at Prophet. How Brandon Graham has transformed this 90's cement-head into a sort of 'sophisticated fun' shall we say (?) WTF kind of story is a prime example of what can happen when creators are left to do what they do best, create.

 

It's been one year (August 31, 2011 to be exact) since I received that fateful spam from the bean-counters at Warner Brothers. One year removed from buying every New 52 title I could get my hands on (Red Lanterns? Suicide Squad? What was I thinking?!?). One year after agreeing to 'read a couple of comic books' with my 'old friend,' Seth, who must accept some of the blame for the 'pleasure of my compnay' that I inflict on you all. Now, I blog, tweet and email back-in-forth with all these smart and passionate writers, artists and creators. Excelsior! Meyers said it, ''You folks are fantastic.'' (Included a little Kracklin' Kirby Romance for all the lovin' goin' 'roun.' Enjoy!)

 

Aforementioned Links:

 
(re)AssessingSaga at Two-Headed Nerd, Interview with Anathema creator Rachel Deering and a review of Anathema #2 on Comics Bulletin, Thirteen Minutes Shotgun Blub: Prophet

Review: The Bulletproof Coffin: Disinterred

Total B.S.

  A big part of comic book culture is B.S. My weekly fix from my local comic's pusher is made all the more worthwhile because we talk about what we read last week, what we're reading this week, what we can't wait for next week and so on. What my mother would call, 'solving the world's problems.'

  Now, I love my LCS. It's small, shaped like a shoebox and there's duct tape holding the check-out counter together, but it is mine, sir. When I see pictures of comic book cathedrals like Bergen Street Comics, or hear the guys on Panel Culture talk about hanging out at Paradise Comics in Toronto, I get a little jealous. I can only imagine what Legend Comics in Omaha, Nebraska must be like. How it must feel to hang out and bull-shit with Joe Patrick as he waxes philosophical about Mark Waid; while nearby Matt Baum braises a cider-infused, grass-fed, 100% pasture-raised pork shoulder and caramelizes onions while simultaneously putting a steel-toed boot into the gut of some whiner who thinks there should even BE a Red She-Hulk. I'm sure this sort of thing happens all the time. Perchance to dream.

  So, I have my LCS with its well-curated, but smallish selection, so what. On the other hand, I have the power of the internet. I have my old friend Seth whose blog posts and emails make me want to keep writing and to continue to think about comics. I have the accredited professional comic book blogger, Justin Giampaoli who is always sixty-six steps ahead of me and who posts a score of reviews for every one of mine. I'm a better person for following people like @aaronmeyers, @martgray, @colin_TBTAMC, the whole Panel Culture crew and the writers of SEQART. Not to be forgotten, the person who told me to start a blog in the first place, the Kickstarter superstar Kelly Thompson.

  Which brings me to my colleagues at Comics Bulletin, Danny Djeljosevic, Jason Sacks and, of course, Daniel Elkin. When Elkin invited me to write about Wood and Kelly's Local with him, it turned into the best B.S. session I’ve had in a long time. I am forever in his debt and come hell or high water, we'll get to B.S. face-to-face, over a bottle, couple of glasses and some ice. They have ice in hell, right? I've teamed up with Elkin again to bring forth this: The Bulletproof Coffin: Disinterred. BC:D doesn't get enough praise (I'm looking at you Two-Headed Nerd!). It's a tough comic book to recommend to someone  because … well, where do you begin and how do you describe it and not sound cracked? As you’ll read, I go right 'round the bend by the end. What can I say? Hine and Kane make me want to create and maybe by the end, you'll will too.

http://comicsbulletin.com/reviews/4681/miniseries-review-the-bulletproof-coffin-disinterred/

Blogger's Blogging: What Makes a Good First Issue?

Odd thing happened on my way out of the LCS last week: I left without buying a #1 issue. A few weeks ago in an attempt to best comic book super fan Aaron Myers (whom you should most definitely follow on twitter: @AaronMeyers) I emailed the men of Panel Culture this question: 'What makes a good first issue?' (ep. 55). As soon as I hit 'SEND' I realized that I have a blog and access to one of the greatest comic book blogger minds this side of Kuala Lumpur, Justin Giampaoli. So I asked Justin to weigh in on this #1 topic. Here's what we said:

Keith: In the last ten months I have purchased thirty-six #1 issues. That number is slightly skewed by DC's New 52. Simple math says that that turns out to be about three #1 issues per month. That's a lot of starts and a lot of do-overs. Now, some of those thirty-six were limited series that have ended (The Strange Talent of Luther Strode) or will end soon (Planetoid, Spaceman). For every series that ends, there are ten more to take its place. First issues, it turns out, are like those creaky black-and-white zombies, tireless, relentless. But are they disposable? All this going #1 (sorry can't resist) makes me a poorer man. Am I, however, wiser as well? First, let me set some guidelines and a parameter or six before diving into some examples.  

  A first issue is so suffuse with anticipation that it is (almost?) genetically predisposed to disappoint. At its best, it's an exercise in frustration, even if that frustration comes from having to wait a month for the next issue, a first-world problem to be sure. In theory, a good #1 should be no different than a good #33 or #367, but that's not the way it works. A good story may be a good story and therefore transcend its order in a series. A first issue … that's different (special?) isn't it, if only because it is 'the first?'
  One of my least liked comic book criticism crutches is the phrase 'decompressed storytelling,' which sounds to me like shorthand for 'I'm bored, but can't (won't?) quit and move on, a reverse 'it's not you it's me' kind of argument. For me, every story is a Gandalf, it is never late, nor is it early, it arrives precisely when its author means it to and that goes for beginnings, middles and ends (barring, of course, unforeseen circumstances like cancellation). The reader is a silent partner. If the author chooses to take the long cut or write a series of one-offs or decides to create a narrative that only makes sense when understood as a whole that's that. It's like that old joke: How many comic book readers does it take to change a light bulb? One to change it and ten thousand to say how much better the old light bulb was (one the internet, of course). Readers can't change how a writer writes, but they sure as hell can carp about it.
  Again, a good story is a good story and in the case of a first issue it really needs to hook the reader. Duh. For me, a first issue (above all) must possess promise in either plot or character. As for setting, sorry, it's a handmaiden by its own design. I'm genre-diverse, but I need more than atmosphere, more than spaceships and lush English country-sides. If the spaceship (or glen) is sentient, we can talk.  Promise also comes in the form of a theme or an idea as well. A story about 'loss' or 'identity' intrigues because those notions are recognizable and often reflect a character's arc i.e. the plot. Modern (and post-modern) literature limits plot and chooses to focus on abstract ideas, in other words a lot of navel-gazing -- Who am I? Why am I here? What does it all mean? -- you know, bullshit like that.
  Before turning it over to the esteemed gentleman from San Diego, I want to recognize the importance of uniqueness. The more singular the story, the more it seems to possess a mélange of secret and intangible ingredients: cool-looking spaceship, O.K., living spaceship, better, conscious spaceship that flirts with the crew and is haunted by the soul of a belly dancer, even better. So, that's what I look for in the first issue: promise and abstraction.

Justin: Thanks, Keith. The gentleman from Vermont stands relieved. Well, you know I'm a statistics nerd, so I thought I'd initially respond with my own #1 count. I tracked the metrics for the last year and found that I sampled 91 new #1 issues in the last 12 months. Now, as you indicated some of these were finite mini-series that have since wrapped, and I also consume both mainstream titles and small press offerings. With those caveats aside, I only continued to support 17 of those 91 titles for any significant length of time. That's about 19%, which sounds abysmal to me. That means (approximately) that for every 5 books I try, I only like 1 of them enough to commit any form of ongoing financial support.  

Before I dive into what I think makes a "good" and compelling #1, I want to play devil's advocate and take issue with the statement you made about "decompressed storytelling," because who doesn't enjoy two bloggers getting up into each other's faces? Come at me, Silva! I don't think citing decompression is necessarily a lazy critical tool. If you take 6 pages to show two characters walking across the street, something that could be done in 1 page, or even just 1 panel, and there's no story-driven reason why that length is relevant or important to the crux of the narrative, then criticizing it for wanton decompression just for the sake of itself can be a valid argument in my opinion[1].
  Off the top of my head, I was able to lump the factors that make a "good" new #1 for me into 5 categories. One, it has a lot to do with the strength of the writer and the artist. This might sound like a 'Master of the Obvious' comment to make, but let me explain. After reading comics for so many years and enduring the majority of lackluster creative output available -- 81% was that it? -- I've had to impose some fairly stringent guidelines to keep myself sane. I have to love the art, whether it's someone I'm familiar with or someone new to me. I have to love the writing, whether it's someone I'm familiar with or someone new to me. And, I have to love them both at the same time. I can't just love one or the other. Both have to be clicking or I just won't come back.

  Two, there has to be a hook for me. Some twist, some fresh take, coming at a genre or set of tropes with a new angle, etc.; something unexpected or something that plays cat and mouse with the audience and subverts reader expectations. Scalped #1 is an example of a strong hook I often use for people. This book has been out for about five years and is just about to wrap up its last two issues so I don't think this is a spoiler. Jason Aaron and R.M. Guera offer a very compelling story of a violent drifter type named Dashiell Bad Horse who is returning home to his childhood Native American home, the Prairie Rose Indian Reservation. He's supposedly served in the military, done some jail time, and bounced around the country. It's gritty and raw and in addition to the art and writing working in unison to create this microcosm about a hidden part of American society in utter decay, it did something else. In the space of the first issue, he quickly gets embroiled with an old flame and the local crime boss. He's knee deep in drugs, prostitution, gambling, gunrunning, murder, and all sorts of racketeering. Well, on the very last page the twist is... Dash is actually an undercover FBI Agent. I didn't see it coming and it hooked me for a 5-year, 60-issue run.

  Three, and there might be some overlap here depending on how you were to define 'hook,' but I look for that uniqueness you mentioned. I'm such a jaded old comic book reader, that you'll get points alone for showing me something I haven't seen before in 35 years of reading comics. It can be the amazing sentient spaceship you threw out (you're pitching that to Image Comics, yes?) or it can be a book about corporate security and espionage (Secret) or a wild alt-reality sci-fi about Vatican scientists inventing a time machine and sending a Special Forces unit back to the Roman Empire to rewrite history in their favor (Pax Romana). Both of those books are written by Jonathan Hickman and he's a master with his creator-owned Image Comics work as far as I'm concerned about showing me something in a #1 issue that I've never seen before. A subtle spin on this is perhaps showing me something that has been done, but doing it extremely well. I'd put Danger Club in this category. We've all seen the post-modern superhero deconstruction jaunt that shows us what flawed a paradigm superheroes are. Essentially, people are fallible, so sovereign super-powered beings would be incredibly scary and dangerous in real life, not everyone is a paragon of altruism like Clark Kent, i.e. Watchmen, Battle Hymn, No Hero, Black Summer, DV8: Gods & Monsters. It's been done before, but Danger Club does it extremely well and plays with familiar archetypes in a startling and entertaining way.
  Four, I think accessibility is very important for a new #1 issue. For me, I look for a precarious balancing act between telling me enough to engage me and make me care about the world or the characters or the ideas and being emotionally invested in the work, without treating me like I'm a 5 year old. I don't want to be told everything. I want to discover some of the mysteries for myself. I mean, I'll take the hot chick in my hotel room wearing just a pair of my boxers and sultry eyes over the fully naked woman screaming for sex any day, right? I don't want to be assaulted with expositional dialogue dumps and narrative captions that are telling me how I should be feeling at any given moment. I also don't want something to be so obtuse and laden with inter-textual Easter Egg references (Grant Morrison, Alan Moore, I'm looking at you guys) or some non-linear stream of consciousness style of scripting that I can't get a foothold on what's going on or why I should care. You read comics because you want to be entertained, right? Ideally that entertainment transcends to become art. But, bottom line, in a new #1 you have to do one thing: start a good story.
  Lastly, I guess I'll throw a wildcard into the mix and talk about blind faith. There are one or two creators who have banked enough credibility with me on past projects that nothing I said above applies. Let me be clear that this is extremely rare and true of only two people I can think of at the moment: Paul Pope and Brian Wood. It doesn't matter what the book is about, the genre, the publisher, if it's a singular venture or they're working with collaborators, a one-shot, a mini-series, or an ongoing title. If their name is on it, I buy it without question, as a creative leap of faith. Usually their projects will meet some or all of the above criteria, but even if they don't, even if I'm not instantly hooked with that first issue, I keep buying it and see it through to the end because these guys have earned my loyalty and I trust them enough to ride with them to the very end. What new #1 issues have worked for you recently and why?

Keith: Leave it to you to find the one (or twenty) flaws in my argument. You're right, it's not about how many first issues one buys, but how many twos, threes and sixties(!). Because let's face it (in the most cynical sense) what makes a good first issue is that you want to buy the next issue and the next, etc. etc. So, logically, that's really all a #1 needs to accomplish: get 'em to buy issue #2, which are usually a huge let down, but that's a question for another day.

  You had me laughing out loud trying to parse my Gandalf metaphor. I wish I had done a better job explaining myself, but then again I would not have gotten you to reveal your 'true colors' about LOTR, so, ha! As an aside, I always thought a good subtitle for LOTR would be: a long walk or stroll or meander through Middle-Earth. ANYWAY. What I meant to say about decompressed storytelling is that it is the writer's and artist's prerogative when it comes to how they want their story told. The first example that comes to my head is Scott Snyder's current run on Swamp Thing. He had an idea in mind about how he wanted to tell this story and damned if he wasn't going to tell it his way no matter how long it took to bring (re)create Swamp Thing. I had my struggles with that book, but the first issue was 'good enough' that I spent the next seven or eight issues following that story. So, I guess that made Swamp Thing #1 a 'good issue' even though the storytelling was slow.

  As to the other factors (the Giampaoli matrix if you will) Swamp Thing #1 had a great writer and artist, it had a good hook, it was unique and it was accessible. Also, it had the wildcard factor. Snyder, like it or not, is in ascendency right now. For now, he has the fanboys in rapture. So anything he does at this point in his career was going to be something not only worth checking out, but following. Now, to address your specific point about characters spending a lot of pointless walking and talking, I point to no better example than Hell Yeah. Talk about a first issue that could have been subtitled 'a stroll of the pseudo-heroes.' Wow was that dull. This gets at the decompression that I think you were getting at with your argument. I could not agree with you more. I have a favorite line from 'Planes, Trains, and Automobiles' that I think works here. When Steve Martin is ripping into John Candy in the hotel room he says: 'not everything is an anecdote, you choose things that are funny or interesting ... and here's an idea: have a point!' That's what you're talking about: what's the point of all this talking or walking? How does it help or add to the story? That kind of decompressed storytelling we can all do without because it is pointless. Hell Yeah #1 is a great example of a first issue that promised, but did not deliver. A first issue should not be 10+ pages of story and the rest filler so you can end on a splash page and a cliffhanger. So, taking your time, O.K. (I guess) wandering in the wilderness for the sake of wandering in the wilderness, not so much.

  Let's take another #1 that was a story essential about a character walking from point A to point B. Prophet #21 (for all intents and purposes a first issue). Again, using the GM (Giampaoli Matrix) it has everything. Why Prophet #21 was such a success is that it did not depend on dialogue or intrusive narration. There is very little dialogue at all in that first issue, but the narration never feels overdone or the dreaded exposition dump. Prophet does little more than walk and eat funny looking animals and yet I was totally invested. I wanted to see more of John Prophet walking, using crazy tools, weapons and gadgets and eating weird looking aliens. I wanted to know more about this character and more about his world. Prophet #21 shows and tells in the best possible way by allowing the medium (art and words) to work in concert to construct a narrative that could only be a comic book.

  Wood's Conan the Barbarian (which we've both written a lot about) is another good example of a first issue even though it does have its flaws. There is no better 'jumping on point' that I've read in the last ten months than Conan leaping onto the deck of that ship. That image is the epitome of everything I want in a first issue AND it's an image no dialogue, no narration. Where is this character going and what's going to happen to him? I'm sensing a theme here. Maybe what makes a good first issue is how well a character uses their legs? If you're going to go for a stroll count me out, but if you take off at a sprint, I'm apt to run alongside. Where Conan falls down (trips, stumbles?) is where the issue ends. Sure, it sets up the 'character' that everyone has spent the entire issue talking about, but why save it until the end? Again, I use the word 'promise.' Conan gave me enough 'promise' that I wanted to read issue #2.  Hell Yeah didn't hold any promise (characters, story, etc.) for me and it didn't demonstrate a sense of proportion that it was going to go anywhere (except to the next cliffhanger/splash page).
  I like your 'wildcard' and it's something I considered – the credibility of 'blind faith.' Back in the mid-80's there was nothing by Frank Miller or Bill Sienkiewicz that I would not have bought, same goes for Howard Chaykin. Those were 'my guys' and I am nothing if not brand loyal. That's not the case now. Those creators have changed and so have I. Based on The Strange Talent of Luther Strode, I will buy whatever Justin Jordan and Tradd Moore do next (together and individually) be it Strode or anything else because they've built up credibility with me. I'm in for at least 3 issues (again a topic for another day ... how long do you give a series before you bail?) on the next iteration of the Strode story. I did not include this is my prior missive because I considered it too obvious.  While one is in the throes of one's particular mania Paul Pope, Brian Wood, Frank Miller, Becky Cloonan, etc., one is in for the long haul and not just the first issue. In that sense #33 is no more important than #1, because one is buying them for a different reason, merit is a given. I would make another metaphor here (I'm almost out of time) about having bought EVERY Led Zeppelin tape (even Presence and Coda) when I first discovered Zeppelin because my mania knew no bounds and I could not discern. It was Zeppelin. COME AT ME Giampaoli!

Justin: I think you summed up this decompression beef nicely. Have a point! Writers using a slower, more thorough pace, what's become modern comic book parlance for 'decompression,' is absolutely their prerogative - provided it has a discernible point. It's interesting that you mention Hell Yeah because it was certainly a new #1 that seemed to fail for both of us. However, for me, it wasn't really the decompression that killed it. It just failed almost all of my other GM (heh) criteria. I thought the art was fuzzy, sloppy, inconsistent and uninspiring, the story seemed like it was a derivative blend of Kick-Ass and Sky High, and it was trying to do the superheroes-as-flawed-paradigm analysis (while being extremely expositional in the process), but didn't seem to bring anything unique to that particular table. Your mileage may vary.

  I'm glad you brought up Prophet #21 too, though I can't resist being "that guy" and saying it's disqualified because technically it's not a new #1 ("HAW-HAW!" - Nelson) even though it functionally is one, because it's a great example of a strong debut. You mention wanting to know more about John Prophet's world, and that leads me to introduce another concept, which is world-building. I think strong #1 issues should make an effort to world-build. Now, maybe there's some overlap here with a couple of the categories already established, a) being unique or fresh and/or b) having a strong hook. I guess it depends, again, on how you really define hook. I get a little bugged when people interpret hook as meaning a twist, like a twist ending. I guess hooks can be twists, but twists aren't the only type of hook? Anyway, Prophet is a grand example of world-building that doesn't stop to get expositional, yet remains accessible and intriguing enough to pull you right in and leave you wanting more. All of his hobbiting around served this precious point, to organically tour us through the world that Brandon Graham set out to build, with the aid of Simon Roy on that first issue.
  Maybe I'm diverging a little here, but I see a lot of other tangential questions popping up here which are maybe outside the scope of this discussion. You mentioned The Strange Talent of Luther Strode, but that was a mini-series. So, do you thing the factors change or skew slightly when writing a new #1 for a finite mini-series vs. an ongoing? You also mention the first 3-issue arc of Conan The Barbarian. Do you think the factors for writing a 'good' first issue change based on how long the arc will be? I'm generalizing, but most modern on-goings will have 5 or 6 issue arcs. Brian Wood specifically said that his writing changed by having to condense everything into 3-issue arcs. Maybe this means more densely told stories, more compressed vs. decompressed (ugh! that word again!) storytelling, more to offer, more value to hook someone in the first issue. Speaking of value, does price point factor in to your decision-making process about a "good" first issue? Vertigo has been pretty good about offering some of their new #1 issues at an introductory $1. Your precious Spaceman #1 was $1, no? Does a book being $2.99 vs. $3.50 or $3.99 influence you specific to your decision to continue?

Keith: Precious Spaceman? You wound, sir. You wound. I'd like to say that price matters and maybe it does for the most risk averse when it comes to trying a new series. But a buck is a buck, and who among us would not shout out ''I'd buy[2] that for a dollar!'' if issue #2 or #172 bore a similar cover price. My discretionary income for a particular week often dictates if I'm willing to take a chance on a number one and even then I try to pre-order through my LCS and have the issue on my pull-list. I can't say for sure if the length of a story-arc would sway me to pick up a first issue -- oddly enough, it is a factor for me when buying minis, so go figure -- it really depends the mood I'm in at the moment. This brings up another discussion for another time: when do you drop a series? I feel like there is an unexploited market out there for self-help for comic book fans when it's time to let go of that long-time favorite when it's not working for you anymore. Other worlds, gunslinger, other worlds. O.K. Last question: In the last twelve months, what are your favorite two number one issues that you've read?

Justin: Being totally honest, the first that popped into my head was Danger Club #1, which I've already discussed. I think it was just so efficient in hitting most of my criteria, slick art, a great hook about teen sidekicks having to step up after Earth's greatest heroes mysteriously disappear after facing a cosmic threat, bringing something fresh to a tired set of genre tropes in the writing department, and some terrific world-building in the form of these retro flashbacks that flesh out the main characters. It's only on issue #2 and I can already tell it's going to be one of my favorite series of 2012. Using your Prophet #21 loophole, I'll go with X-Men #30 from

  Brian Wood and David Lopez[3]. It's one of these jumping on point issues that takes the book in a radical new direction and functionally is a #1. The hook is Planetary meets Authority, but with a mutant strike team lead by Storm.  4 of the 5 team members are women, which I'm surprised isn't getting more fanfare. He sets it in a fun corner of the world, dropping in all sorts of obscure personal like Sabra (the mutant Mossad Agent), quirky fringe characters like Pixie and Domino, and fun Warren Ellis inspired sci-fi/green technology/experimental propulsion stuff. David Lopez is an artist I wasn't familiar with, but I was instantly blown away by his John Cassaday meets JH Williams III art. It's got this really glossy and consistent polish to it, but then a lean, kinetic, detailed, and thin line weight that I just adore.

Keith:  Justin, as I wrote that question, my 'blink' response was Animal Man #1. The faux magazine interview in The Believer that Jeff Lemire uses to kick off the series is, for me, the most creative and perfect introduction to a series/character that I've read in the last twelve months. Buddy Baker and the whole Animal Man 'famn damily' were entirely new to me as was Lemire and artist Travel Foreman. This was a case where my only disappointment about the first issue was only that I was going to have to wait thirty days to read the next issue. Animal Man is also a good example of how quickly a series can lose its momentum when an artist leaves or the narrative gets bogged down in cross-overs and drawn-out story arcs. If I were to go (a lot) less mainstream, I would suggest Matt Kindt's Mind MGMT from Dark Horse. I'll grant that this comic isn't for everyone given its genre (conspiracy theories and clandestine WTF?! organizations) and that its simple, spare art (Kindt writes and draws each issue) isn't in the same league with most cape comics. Mind MGMT is a story that can only be compared to SEAL training when someone is left broken and busted out in the middle-of-nowhere with only a half-chewed dull eraserless pencil and their wits; unpredictable and a hell of a lot of fun as long as you're willing to ride the ride.

Mr. Giampaoli (dude writes like a fiend) can be found at  http://thirteenminutes.blogspot.com/ and follow him on Twitter @thirteenminutes for some of the best (and boldest) comic book criticism anywhere.

---

[1] Justin took me to task on my ‘Gandalf analogy’ at this point in the discussion. I edited it out of our discussion, but you can read the whole damn thing here: I'm [Justin]  struggling to come up with a Gandalf retort, but uhhh... well, I guess a lot of people complain that when we first meet Gandalf, the scenes in the Shire take forever and a day to conclude, but that should NOT be attacked for decompression using my criteria because it's germane to the story. I think Tolkien lingered there, at least in part, to show what an idyllic and innocent place ye olde Hobbits were from to juxtapose that with their involvement in the impending war. Contrast that to, I don't know, if they'd shown Aragorn and the fellas camping out at Weathertop in real-time for hours on end and I don't think you're adding much to the narrative, just boring the audience with irrelevant decompression.

[2] Lest a Robocop reference go unused at the appropriate time.

[3] Álvaro López is also listed as an artist on X-Men #30. The colors are done by Rachelle Rosenberg.

Interview: Panel Culture

Spirit of Radio

  Not too long ago, I was introduced as, ‘This is my dad.  He likes to listen to podcasts.’  Guilty as charged.  As I’ve been rediscovering the worlds within worlds of today’s comic book culture, I’ve also continued to indulge in another obsession, podcasts.  Like talk radio – sports talk radio comes to mind – podcasts can be a miasma where opinion always trumps fact and acting contrarian or (worse) one-sided is too often the rule of law.

  Panel Culture, a podcast from Toronto, Ontario, was born out of a comic book buyer’s basic need to talk about the comics he was reading.  What distances Panel Culture from the idle chit chat and fanboy bluster of its peers is that Panel Culture is a podcast where listening to the opinions of others is as important as broadcasting personal passions.  Podcasts – and blogs too for that matter – created by heartfelt ‘niche dwellers’ can devolve, to quote Shakespeare by way of Macbeth, into: ‘a tale told by idiot[s], full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’  The three members of Panel Culture, Charles, George, and Owen are far from idiots; it is, for want of a more creative phrase, ‘a cultured panel’ to say the least.
  The structure of the podcast is straightforward: news and reviews followed by ‘picks-of-the-week.’  What this austere structure lacks in style it makes up for tenfold in honesty, open-heartedness, and charm.  I like these guys, but my media training tells me that as tedious as introductions are for the hosts, mass communication is always (and only) about audience – proffer no excuses, guys.  Listening to the Panel Culture podcast week-to-week, one hears the bonhomie of friends and fans – it’s like an old-fashioned drawing room for the ‘panel culture.’

Sophisticated Fun:  How did Panel Culture get started?

Charles: I started Panel Culture because I needed an outlet to talk about comics.  When I got back into comics about nine years ago, none of my friends were reading them and I found myself standing at Paradise Comics (my comic shop) [in Toronto] for hours talking to the guys who worked there.  I was listening to a bunch of podcasts and thought that it would be fun to be involved in my own.  So I asked one of the guys at the shop if he would be interested in doing one with me.  After a few months of talking about it, he recorded our first one last May (2011) and the rest is history.  Unfortunately, after a few months of recording, it was becoming clear to me that I had to find someone else to record with because Andrew was finding it really hard to find time to join me every week.  That is when I turned to Owen.  He had been a guest on one of our first episodes and I felt that we had a good rapport.  I thought he had some really cool opinions and that he would be a perfect ‘Ying’ to my ‘Yang’ (so to speak).  It wasn't long before George became a regular, and here we are. 

SF:  How does a podcast contribute to the critical discourse in a way that’s unique from a blog or website that reviews and discusses comic books and comic book culture?

Owen: The appeal for me is the back-and-forth, the dialogue. I love the way a podcast can replicate the feel of a few friends debating books they have differing opinions about or recommending one another books that maybe other people haven’t read. Charles, George and I all have different views on what makes a great comic (especially Charles and me) and I think that makes for a great experience for a listener.  By offering up a spectrum of viewpoints, I think that it shows how it’s not always as simple as “a good book” or “a bad book,” people’s opinions vary and I think we show that; and yes, sometimes we are even all on the same page.

SF:  How many comics do you buy a week and what role does economics play in your purchases each week?

George:  The number of comics I buy each week varies, at times wildly.  My recent numbers have been fairly inflated by my participation in the podcast. In the past, I have purchased as few as one or two issues in a single month.  Now, I regularly read several each week.  Economics certainly do play an important role in this.  Even for those that love comics, it can be frustrating trying to make sure you feel you got your money’s worth.  Issue prices are prohibitive to reading a wide selection.  A good comic, even at $3.99, can feel totally justified, but something you don’t like will seem like an awful waste at the [exact] same price.

Owen: Oh, budget plays a huge part in what I buy. I’ve been rather vocal about my dislike of the $3.99 (20-page) book; and in talking it out on the show I’ve realized that what it comes down to is, “am I getting enough enjoyment out of the book to justify the price tag.”  I usually try to cap my weekly purchases at about $30, but sometimes it’s more or less than that.  In addition to budget, though, I find that scheduling also plays a big part. On a light week I might try out something I haven’t heard of that looks neat, and on a heavy week, I might drop something I kind of like.  And, yes, there are times when I’ve had buyer’s remorse. Licensed books are often a big one when it comes to buyer’s remorse.

Charles: When we started, I was buying an average of eight to ten comics a week, but over the last few months I have cut that down to about five or six.  There are always exceptions though; a few months ago I had a week where I bought fifteen, and this week (2/29) I am only picking up two (my smallest pull list ever!). 

SF:  Comic book readers are very discerning especially when it comes to a favorite writer or artist.  Is there a writer you would read regardless of the artist he/she was working or vice versa?

George: While the whole process involved with making comics fascinates me, I tend to lean more towards writers rather than artists. This is partly because I identify more with writing, and couldn’t draw to save my life.  Brian K. Vaughan tops my lists of writer’s that I’d follow regardless of which artist they were working with; that isn’t to say that I would enjoy [a Vaughn title] unconditionally though.  Comics are best when they are collaborative, and if an art style doesn’t seem to mesh with the story, the whole book will be thrown off.  On the other hand, I have continued to follow certain [story] arcs despite a weak storyline. Sometimes the narrative will go somewhere that I don’t enjoy, but if I love the art, I’ll likely see it through.  My advice:  if a book is announced with a writer you aren’t certain of, paired with an artist that you’ve really enjoyed in the past, it could easily be enough to get you to try the first issue.  I think that people who first get into comics will certainly be more inclined to follow characters [more] than creative teams.  Most people end up checking out a superhero or super-team that they like and sticking with that [team or character] for a while, regardless of the creative team. As a reader’s tastes develop, they’ll likely begin to realize that not all Green Lantern titles are created equal and start to gravitate towards the creators they’ve enjoyed in the past.  For my part, I’ve been a big fan of Spider-Man and the X-men. The mythology and characters in these titles are strong enough to bring me back again and again. However, I will not continue to read about either of them if I am not enjoying them, no matter how much I feel the urge to see what happens next.

Owen: Absolutely. I have many writers that will always get my money (Brian K Vaughan comes to mind) and artists, too (Amanda Conner, for example). What I’m not a believer in is following characters. Oh, sure, we all have characters we like. Of course we do. The thing is… it’s not a character that makes a book good, it’s the creators. Personally, I feel that we should be voting with our wallets for good comics, not Superman comics or Spider-Man comics.  I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t get the appeal of characters. I will always try at least one issue of an Animal Man or a Booster Gold comic and I would expect anyone else to do the same with [their] favourite character.  My point is only that if you’re not enjoying a comic you should drop it regardless of whether or not your favourite character is in it. 

Charles:  Current writers who – at the very least – will get 3 issues out of me at the start of a run are Darwyn Cooke, Scott Snyder, Jason Aaron, Brain K Vaughan, Cullen Bunn, and Ed Brubaker.  Artists are tougher.  I might keep buying a comic if I am kind of liking the artist, or I might pick up a first issue for an artist like Alex Maleev, Jerome Opena, Tony Moore, Darwyn Cooke, Jock, Rafael Albuquerque, Chris Samnee, Stuart Immonen (the only reason I kept buying Fear Itself!). 

SF: Why does ‘Panel Culture’ review ‘all-ages’ comics?

Owen: That’s a fair question! The thing is, we review the comics that we buy, and personally, I buy a fair number of all-ages comics. I know a lot of comic readers have a hard time understanding why anyone would read an all-ages title. My short answer is that people should read what’s good. Period. There is nothing about a “mature readers” label that makes a comic good (or even mature for that matter) and there are plenty of all-ages titles that I would honestly say are way better than plenty of books full of adult material. The character-work, themes and storytelling in Bone, for example, is head and shoulders above of many titles that are dubbed “mature” just because there are a couple of swear words in them.  Personally, I don’t understand why anyone WOULDN’T want to read Bone or Tintin or Gladstone’s School for World Conquerors. Adults go see Pixar movies, right? Or watch ‘The Princess Bride?’ Those are all-ages movies.  Good comics are good comics, regardless of the label on the front, and if someone doesn’t want to read a good comic just because there’s no “adult content” in it … then, personally, I think they’re missing out on some great material for a pretty silly reason.

SF: Can any of you ever imagine a time when you won’t buy a physical ‘comic book’ because you’d prefer the digital version instead?

Charles: I am doing it right now. But any comic that I REALLY like digitally, I will, probably, eventually, buy the hardcover or trade paperback version of, so I can have it on my shelf.  I will always by stuff in print, but digital is definitely finding its place with me.

George:  This has come up on the podcast a lot lately. The boys [Owen and Charles] both got iPads for Christmas and they are diving headfirst into the world of digital comics.  I’m still getting physical issues.  I’m sure I’d like to get certain titles in a digital format if I had a device to read, but even then I can’t imagine ever giving up printed comics completely.  There’s a fetish property to comics. Holding them and physically turning the pages is part of the experience of reading comic books.

Owen: It somewhat saddens me to say it (because I love my comic book store), but yeah, I can see it happening.  As long as I live in Toronto I’ll always hit up Paradise Comics for my weekly books, but if someday I move away and I live in a place where there isn’t a nearby store I expect I probably will go all-digital, yeah.

SF:  Perhaps it’s my own naiveté or maybe I’ve bought into the hype, but with DC’s New 52, what Image is doing to celebrate its 20^th anniversary, and the rise of day-and-date digital comics; are we living in a ‘new’ renaissance for comic books?

George: That’s a good question. It is certainly an exciting time for comics, but that is not the same thing as saying that comics are better than they’ve been. Despite a shift away from print in general there are a lot of comics out there today. The trick is figuring out which ones are worth reading, and which are merely retreading well-worn ground.

  Most of the comics made are still centered on superheroes, which is a double edged sword for the comic industry. Superheroes are more prevalent in films these days, which seems to have contributed to comic books beginning to be more accepted as mainstream. However, this also lends credence to the idea that all comic books are about superheroes, which is untrue and probably leads people back to the belief that comics are just for children.

  Inevitably though, all kinds of comics will continue to reach wider audiences and gain more credibility. Communication and art-creating technologies have opened up the world of making comics, as well as the potential market for selling them. People are really just beginning to explore what this means for comic books, but change has already begun. In ten years Marvel and DC may still be the big two, but even if that’s the case the comic landscape will look very different than it does today, and more people will be participating in it.

SF: I’ve heard you discuss your dislike for ‘event titles.’  I don’t know anyone who likes these types of comic books.  So, why do publishers keep publishing these type of ‘event titles?’

George, Owen, and Charles: Money.

SF: A couple of you have published your own comic books. Any desire to continue writing comics?

George:  Yes.  Writing is a passion of mine, and making comics in particular. There is something so satisfying about the collaborative effort involved in making comics. Challenging yourself to think more visually and to write in a way that instructs but also inspires an artist is exhilarating. Seeing pages come together way better than you could have imagined is truly great.   I’m always working towards creating and telling stories and I’ll be more than happy to share them as they get released.

Owen: Absolutely. My writing partner (Curtis Westman) and I had a blast working on the story for Kill Shakespeare: Volume 1 and we’re currently working on something new. We’re self-publishing a story that we wrote and my wife (Anya Craig) is drawing at Wizard World Toronto in April! It’ll be a collection of short stories starring a character we’ve created and after selling some copies at Wizard World we’ll be putting them online for all to see. Seeing artwork come in is honestly one of the coolest things and I can’t wait for everyone to see.

Panel Culture posts each week on iTunes http://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/panel-culture/id438372095 and at Podbean, http://panelculture.podbean.com/

Friend Panel Culture on facebook and follow them on Twitter @PanelCulture.

This interview was conducted over email.