http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/12/07/invincible-iron-man-20/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1123

Written by Matt Fraction
Art by Salvador Larroca
40 pages, color
Published by Marvel

There’s a lot of attention directed—justifiably so—towards the cover of The Invincible Iron Man #20. Redesigned by Rian Hughes, it’s eye-catching and beautiful, looking absolutely nothing like anything else on comic racks right now. But with all of the talk centered around what’s on the outside, hopefully people won’t remember what’s on the inside as well. Matt Fraction and Salvador Larroca are continuing to craft a comic that enthralls, without throwing a single punch.

After a year’s worth of "World’s Most Wanted," where Fraction and Larroca had Iron Man chased around the world while Tony Stark used all his old technologies to wipe his own brain clean of all information, the book is now going for a different tactic. With "Stark: Disassembled," Fraction presumably has Tony Stark just where he wants him, literally purged of everything that’s come before and able to be rebuilt. Essentially, it’s a "back to basics" moment for the character, but giving Fraction the opportunity to decide just how "basic" that approach will be. There’s a lot of baggage attached to the character, with nanotechnology fueled armors and global companies that dominate the planet. Most notably, Stark essentially became a villain in Marvel’s Civil War event a few years ago, a tarnish still attached to him. The past itself might not get erased, but presumably the memories or artifacts of those moments are now up for grabs.

At the same time, Fraction makes this a story about family. Not the kind of family you’re born into, but rather that which people create for themselves. Stark lays the path towards his resurrection (or reboot, if you will) in their hands, recordings created before he went comatose. That to me is probably the most interesting aspect of the latest Iron Man. His message to them is unapologetic about what he’s done to get to this point, even as he gives them advice and ideas about how to go up against the villainous Norman Osborn. It feels like a strange combination of support, manipulation, and hope that Stark spreads out before his best friends, and I think that’s one of the most accurate reads on Stark that I’ve seen in a while.

I’m even enjoying what could in other hands have felt too much of a cliché, as what’s left of Stark’s mind sifts through the sands and finds small fragments of what used to exist there. I think it helps that Larroca’s now creating what feels like the art of his career. When I first encountered Larroca’s art on The Invincible Iron Man it didn’t feel quite there, but any qualms I once had are now gone. There’s a soft, human approach to this book’s visuals here; Larroca and colorist Frank D’Armata make the book look painted directly onto the pages, with soft red morning skies in the background and careful curves and gradients of people’s skin. What struck me upon reading The Invincible Iron Man #20 is that Larroca is able to take the real and the imaginary and blend them together in a unified style. Norman Osborn’s board room full of super-villains looks real but without making the characters seem like rejects from a Halloween parade. At the same time, it’s without breaking away from how he draws Stark’s comatose body in a hospital bed, or the mental landscape of an archaeology dig. Old cars half-buried in sand and ghostly assassins get to exist side-by-side and both feel like they belong.

"Stark: Reassembled" is scheduled to run for five issues, letting it not only culminate with issue #25, but just in time to (presumably) have the new status quo in place before the theatrical release of Iron Man 2. This is perfect planning in my book; people who see the movie and love it will want to pick up a comic that matches the same look and feel of the film, and Fraction and Larroca are certainly on the same wavelength as director Jon Favreau. They’ve got the fundamental idea of what makes the character of Iron Man work. Two years ago I never thought I’d be actively reading and enjoying Iron Man, but I’m cheerfully proven wrong. This is a book I look forward to every month; if you haven’t given The Invincible Iron Man a shot, now’s a good time to do so. With an omnibus of the previous 19 issues around the corner to boot, it’ll be easy to catch up.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/he-will-tell-you-day-after-triumph-is.html

You Have Killed Me

"I do like Rich’s writing. He has a great grasp of giving the reader just enough information without giving everything away. When it comes to revealing important clues from Mercer’s past and how his continued love for Julie lands him in trouble, it makes for a page turning story as you try and guess what will happen next. The story is nothing new, but it is engaging, and I found myself reading it multiple times over two days.

When I read comics, I generally do not pay attention to who wrote or did the art in any book until well after I’ve read the issue. After being taken in with Joelle Jones’ art in 'You Have Killed Me,' further investigation into her previous works was a bit of a surprise as some of her recent works include the recently released Noir, and other books from Dark Horse Comics. I love her style, and it mostly works for me."

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/few-hours-before-this.html

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/four-seasons-in-two-days-or-at-least.html

ONEMODELNATION : OST BERLIN

onemodelnation | MySpace Music Videos

Unused Lisa Miller Vol 4, originally uploaded by radiomaru.

Unused illustration of Lisa Miller from Scott Pilgrim Volume 4 (circa December 2006 arrrrggghh). It was an early cover mockup, but I ended up not liking it enough for the cover.

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/12/04/luna-park/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1121

Written by Kevin Baker
Art by Danijel Zezelj
160 pages, color
Published by Vertigo/DC Comics

Often, when reading a book I find myself starting to compose a review in my head. How I’m feeling about the book, what I think of its progression, and so on. Every now and then, though, a book comes along that confounds those expectations. That is certainly the case with Kevin Baker and Danijel Zezelj’s Luna Park from Vertigo. I thought I’d sussed out the book by the halfway point, knew how I felt about it overall. And then, not once but twice, the book pulled the rug out from under me. And with each instance, my opinion of Luna Park rather radically changed.

For the first two-thirds of the book, Luna Park serves as a typical crime thriller. Its protagonist, Alik, works as an enforcer for just one of the crime families that have staked out portions of Coney Island. For that part alone, I was satisfied with Baker’s script. It doesn’t feel terribly original in terms of idea, but that ultimately isn’t an issue. Baker makes Alik a compelling character to read about, haunted by his time in the Second Chechen War, and staggering through the run down dregs of Coney Island in a state that could charitably only be called half-alive. As Alik’s past and present relationships begin to surface, you start to see how he’s managed to fall so far over the years, and feel a little empathy for him. Alik may not be a nice person, per se, but he’s someone who is damaged enough from the choices in life that led him here that it’s painful to see him hurting. It’s probably his love of Coney Island and understanding of what a magical place it once was that makes him the most human; in most things in life he no longer has hope or dreams, but there you can catch a glimpse of what’s left of Alik’s soul.

Around the two-thirds mark, though, the book takes a sudden swerve; what was once a recurring dream becomes reality, and what was reality quickly fades away. It’s a bold choice on Baker’s part, and while I was a little startled by it I actually found myself more enthralled by Luna Park as a result. Part of what I found interesting about the earlier segments of Luna Park was Baker using Russian and Ukranian history as a backdrop for his story, and seeing that no longer just infuse the background but take over the book is a successful decision. I’d cheerfully read an entire book from Baker centered just around the concepts in that last third of the graphic novel. He makes the different setting surprisingly accessible, and what could have felt overly melodramatic instead comes across as tense and serious. Up until this point in the book, I was enjoying Luna Park but had already filed it away in my head as a book whose script I’d forget about before too long. Once that shift occurred, I had to start re-writing my mental review, explaining how much of a punch the change gave to Luna Park and how it made me want to seek out Baker’s novels.

Unfortunately, though, Baker still has one more surprise up his sleeve. The last seven pages of Luna Park throw one last surprise out at the reader, but it was one that actually made me completely re-evaluate the book in a bad way. It’s an idea that comes so utterly out of left field that it felt like a cheat; an attempt for an extra bit of surprise and a "gotcha!" moment that is so out there it actually can result in anger on the reader’s part. Baker’s linking of Luna Park to one final real-world event feels crass and unneeded, here. There’s such a disassociation in terms of not only plot but actual tone and ideas that I was surprised that editorially it passed muster. It’s frustrating because Luna Park in my head managed to drop from a book I’d recommend to just about anyone to a book where I would only push on fans of Danijel Zezelj. Baker’s script sabotages Luna Park in the final moments, and that’s a game-losing fumble.

With all that in mind, though, if you’ve enjoyed Zezelj’s art in the past, this is easily the most beautiful book he’s drawn to date. Zezelj uses his trademark style of thick, heavy inks to create an amazing-looking graphic novel. What always immediately strikes me about Zezelj’s art is how he uses negative space so effortlessly; so often he’s not drawing objects and people on the page, but rather carving away pieces of the background and leaving the completed forms in its wake. Zezelj goes all-out in bringing the settings of Luna Park to life here; there are so many haunting images just waiting for you to see. From the hulk of an abandoned ride against a stark and empty landscape, to the cracked floor tiles that Alik lies upon, everything is carefully considered and then designed. The flashbacks to an earlier era are gorgeous too, with crowds of people on an open air market on Hester Street make you feel like you’ve actually gone back in time to an earlier Brooklyn. Colorist Dave Stewart gets some of the credit here as well; his colors look so perfectly integrated into Zezelj’s art that you’d otherwise assume that Zezelj had painted the entire page from start to finish. Stewart wisely uses a palette of muted colors over Zezelj’s inks, bringing that run down world to life. When brighter bursts of color do appear, they’re so rare and far-between that they leap out at the reader, demanding attention. I can’t imagine anyone doing a better job with Zezelj’s art than Stewart; having him always color his art should become part of Zezelj’s contract from now on.

If you cut off the ending from Luna Park, it’s a huge success. At the end of the day, though, you need to be warned going into it that there’s a massive misstep just seconds before midnight. I still want to see more of Baker’s works down the line (and would welcome another collaboration with Zezelj), but I’m hoping that he’s not normally fond of the last-second twist. Hopefully others will find it more palatable, or at least easier to ignore. No matter what, though, Zezelj’s art is outstanding, and at the end of the day well worth the price of buying Luna Park in hardcover. He’s an amazing talent and I’m always happy to see something new by him.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/sending-out-s.html

Scott Pilgrim & Superman High Five! by Bryan Lee O'Malley (w/colours by me), originally uploaded by thechrishaley.

(This was a con sketch)

I have some amazingly talented friends. This is, really, not so much news. But I was thinking to myself this morning, “Greg, some of your friends don’t have big publishers pushing their books, or prints, or (insert awesome creation) here. And they would make good Christmas gifts if only people knew about them. I wonder if you could do something about that?”

So! As I have free time (a rare commodity these days, to be fair) I thought I’d point people in the direction of some talented friends’s websites and products.

First up! My good friend Britt, whom I’ve known for over a decade now, recently started her new website The Photo Garden Bee, where she visits gardens all over the country and takes some amazing photographs of them as well as writing up a travelogue. I’m not a huge garden-visitor but even I find this pretty enthralling.

She’s now selling black and white matted prints of some of her flower pictures, and they look fantastic. I mean, c’mon, just look!

Very reasonably priced, and just gorgeous. Hello, easy Christmas shopping idea! Go buy some!

[Originally published at gregmce.com. You can comment here or there.]

I made it in time to see the girls' ballet, which was Swan Lake this year (a version with a happy ending, ha ha). The one in the foreground is the Swan Princess.

On Friday, i drove to visit friends in western Ontario. On the way, i stopped to see Fantastic Mr Fox again at the Colossus. We didn't do a whole lot at Matt's - we saw Star Trek on DVD, hung around the house, saw Paisley's little Santa Claus Parade, ate and drank - but it was a nice visit.

I had to leave early Sunday to see Lisa & Russ's girls in a ballet, although i stopped at a few places to take some photos.

Wellington Road 15, facing south.

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/housekeeper-and-professor-novel-by-yoko.html

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/12/02/beanworld-vol-3/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1125

By Larry Marder
224 pages, black and white
Published by Dark Horse

Beanworld has always been billed as, "A most peculiar comic book experience" and I’ve found it to be the perfect tag line to the series. When the series went on hiatus back in 1993 (after 21 issues), it was a sad day in comics. There’s nothing quite like Beanworld in comics, a mixture of adventure, fantasy, and tribal roles. Last year, though, Dark Horse announced two hardcovers collecting the entire series, plus a holiday one-shot and a brand-new graphic novel to come. The last of those has finally shown up in the form of Beanworld Vol. 3: Remember Here When You Are There! and it really did turn out to be worth the wait.

In the Beanworld, life normally proceeds like clockwork. Mr. Spook catches Sprout-Butts given to the tribe by Gran’Ma’Pa, which he and the Chow Sol’jer Army take to the Hoi-Polloi and (through a series of conflict) end up leaving the Sprout-Butt behind but stealing amounts of Chow, which the Beans absorb in order to live. (Meanwhile, the Sprout-Butt transforms into a new batch of Chow.) Beanish creates art for the Beans, Professor Garbanzo is their inventor responsible for all sorts of contraptions, and the Boom’r Band provide music. This is all actually detailed at the start of the book, in a sequence that might frustrate familiar readers but does a good job to refresh people’s memories. It’s a reminder that when an outside invasion back at the start of the series upset the Beanworld’s delicate nature, it resulted in all sorts of leaps and bounds forward for the Beans. With Remember Here When You Are There! we’re finally getting to see that pay off.

Long-time readers will probably remember the original subtitle for this story being Float Force, which was certainly a big hint for the direction of Beanworld. After all, the characters are already experimenting with the Float Factor up until this point, starting to discover how the Mystery Pods would interact with different shapes and forms to create objects that levitate. For that alone, we’re starting to see a large evolution in Beanworld. There’s more to this new volume than just surprising plot twists, though. This is the first time that it’s felt like the Beans are all working together in unity towards the new destiny of the Beanworld, something much more than the workings that in the past were standard. Beanish and the Boom’rs collaborate in ways that affect both Dreamishness and the Float Factor, and Heyoka’s purpose is starting to connect with the rest of the Beans as well. There’s never been a doubt that Larry Marder has envisioned a much larger plan for Beanworld, but here is the first time that I think we’re starting to see exactly how it all connects.

Part of the joy of Beanworld for me has always been Marder’s iconic character designs for the characters. On the surface they’re amazingly simple—beans with arms and legs and eyes—but there’s a lot more going on here. For the Beans who have broken out into something more, it’s surprising how just small changes like Boom’r Bonnets or hats or chips can make them look distinctly different, while at the same time still recognizably one of the Beans but with equipment. The Pod’l Pool Cuties, likewise, are definitely immature Beans but their little hairs and tiny feet make them so instantly adorable it’s rather uncanny. Even small design elements, like the latest Float Factor constructions, or the successor to Beanish’s Hearts, look so simple yet elegant that it continues to amaze me.

Beanworld continually has surprises just hiding up its sleeve, and this new volume is no exception. I love how Marder can take shamanistic traditions and transplant elements into a story that also includes the hero’s journey, pop culture references, slapstick comedy, and the life cycle of a plant. There’s nothing else out there quite like Beanworld. If you’ve never read it before, please, check it out.

Purchase Links: Amazon.com | Powell’s Books

Lessee, last week i had massage therapy, did my two yoga classes, last lifedrawing session of the semester (pics to come), went out with the guys to The Tap for some wings.

After massage on Wednesday, i had enough time to catch an 11:00 am movie (and eat at Licks after) before class. It was good because it was the opening day for Fantastic Mr. Fox, which has been getting rave reviews. It's at Wes Anderson adaptation of the Roald Dahl book. I've never read the book (Dahl also wrote James and the Giant Peach and Willy Wonka/Charlie & the Chocolate Factory), but it was very much like a Wes Anderson movie (The Darjeeling Limited, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Royal Tenenbaums).

I like Wes Anderson, so i really enjoyed it, even though some of the animation is rather crude (compared to Coraline, for example), although it did have its subtle moments - occasionally the crudeness was funny in itself.

Some reviewers have compared Fantastic Mr. Fox with Where The Wild Things Are, talking about a return to retro styles of animating, usually accompanied by disparaging (and ignorant) remarks about computer animation. I think the real connection is the use of children's stories to tell adult stories of emotional angst. Watch for the ignorant remarks to surface again with The Princess and the Frog (classically 2D animated to some degree, but still using Toon Boom, CGI visual effects, backgrounds cintiqs for drawing, etc). I do think kids will enjoy Fantastic Mr. Fox more than Where The Wild Things Are (which is actually pretty scary in places).

"Why a fox? Why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? I'm saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? Who am I? And how can a fox ever be happy without, you'll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds illegal."

"The cuss you are."
"The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?"
"No, you cussing with me?"
"Don't cussing point at me!"
"If you're gonna cuss, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!"
"You're not gonna cuss with me!"

"You know, you really are... fantastic."

"Basically, there's three grabbers, three taggers, five twig runners, and a player at Whackbat. Centre tagger lights a pine cone and chucks it over the basket and the whack-batter tries to hit the cedar stick off the cross rock. Then the twig runners dash back and forth until the pine cone burns out and the umpire calls hotbox. Finally, you count up however many score-downs it adds up to and divide that by nine."

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/12/were-happy-so-leave-us-alone-photo-from.html

A photo from last June, featuring the Walter Chiari backdrop for the current tour

http://www.onipress.com/blog/?p=1097

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

“If old Ezra could read minds and foretell the future and such, how come he didn’t know he was gonna get himself ate by cannibals?”

That’s how my brother, Jessie, saw things, and I reckon it was difficult to argue with his reasoning no matter how bad I wanted to do just that. Even after all the peculiar things we’d seen over the years, Jessie was ever the skeptic, especially when it came to Ezra. Me, on the other hand, I believed the old codger’s tales of learning mind-reading from a medicine man, hypnosis from a Creole voodoo priest, and potion-making from a beautiful French witch. According to my brother, that made me no better than a rube paying two-bits for a palm reading. But I never needed a lick of proof in regards to Ezra’s abilities. I don’t know much about faith, but sometimes you just got to go with your gut.

So how come Ezra didn’t see his death coming?

The old man once said, “It ain’t the province of man to know the time and place of his own demise, although ther’re some who risk plumb-awful magicks to discern that very thing.” His demeanor grew dark and brooding then, like he was dwelling on something he could hardly bear to think about. “But once those steps are taken… well, then that man ain’t got nothing on his hands but time to regret what he’s done, all for some inkling of events that can’t be changed. It don’t matter two spits how much foresight you have, when it’s your time to die, there ain’t nothing to be done about it… Nor can you do anything to change when you’re gonna come back.”

At the time, I didn’t think much of Ezra’s cryptic rambling. The old man liked his drink, and was prone to strange rantings when he’d tipped back a few shots. But things started to make a little more sense to me after he was killed, and after the events that unfolded on that Christmas Eve …

Well, let’s just say it wan’t Ezra’s whiskey talking, after all.

Way I figure it, Ezra had known Boone Friedricks and his gang was coming, knew his time was growing short. He’d grown quiet and sullen a few days earlier, and he won’t to be seen unless it was with a near-empty bottle of his special elixir in hand. Maybe his thoughts in those final days were plagued with visions of the gnashing of teeth and the carving of flesh and the screaming that don’t never seem to stop.

“It ain’t the province of man to know the time and place of his own demise,” he had said.

But—by God—he knew, and I shudder to think what foul bargains he’d made in order to obtain such knowledge. I reckon it would have been a kindness on his part if he’d warned the rest of us of the dark days to come. If we’d been prepared, maybe we could’ve avoided the tragedy that befell us. Maybe I wouldn’t have seen fit to wander out into the cold and snow, a shooting iron strapped around my waist and my mind set on revenge.

Jessie might’ve called me a damn fool or worse for traipsing off after Boone Friedricks and his men. He might’ve been right, too, but I don’t think he or anybody else could blame me.

My brother got ate by cannibals, too. All told, they had killed six people—counting Ezra and my brother—over the course of two weeks. Just dragged them off into the hills and did Lord knows what to them before they devoured their flesh. Sometimes, you could hear them screaming out there in the icy cold. I won’t never forget Jessie’s screams, not until the day I die, just like I won’t never forget my shame at not doing something sooner.

I was no gunman, though, not in those days, and I calculate I might have ended up worse than dead if it weren’t for the stranger—a dark figure striding across a plain of white with the wind whipping snow into phantom shapes all around him. When I first saw him, I thought he was a dark angel come to claim me. And he did bring death with him—wore it on his hip and carried it in his heart—but not for me.

The stranger was there with me when Ezra and Jessie and all the others came back from the dead—a genuine Christmas miracle, although I’m more inclined to call it a nightmare.

This is how it happened.

* * *

Climbing into the sharpshooter’s wagon was like stirring up a rattlesnake’s nest of memories.

I hoisted myself into the wagon, and suddenly, it weren’t the dead of winter anymore, and it weren’t the dead of night, neither. Warmth—or at least the distant recollection of warmth—flooded back into my frostbit fingers and toes, and I smelled the first wildflowers of spring along the open road, the rich stink of the horses and the animal pens, the putrid odor of Ezra’s potions a-brewing, and the aroma of cinnamon nuts roasting. And it was no longer the memories of screams that echoed in my ears, because suddenly I could hear Old Ezra himself, barking to the crowd about his special elixir.

“And I’m here to tell you friends—and I do consider each and every one of you good souls a dear friend, so you know I wouldn’t steer ya wrong—this here tonic will cure what ails ya! The nature of the ailment… well, that’s your business, and you’re entitled to your privacy. Looking out amongst you, I can pretty much guess that this group’s got all manner of worries, concerns, and consternations!”

Laughter then, carried away on the wind.

“But it don’t matter because this is a miracle tonic, and it’ll damn near cure anything! Bad skin! Bad teeth! The piles! The back door trots! This brew’s as much a great equalizer for the sick as a barking iron’s a great equalizer for the gunslinger! Ya have my personal guarantee, friends! This tonic will purge the bad spirits out from your body, sure as I’m standing here before you today!”

Memories of better times, that’s all, but I would’ve gladly sat there for hours, savoring those bygone days.

Soon enough, though, I snapped out of it and set about my task. If Mr. Newcomb caught me snooping around Colt McGregor’s wagon, near about the best I could hope for was one Hell of a drubbing. More than likely, I’d find myself in the same predicament as Ezra and Jessie and all them others—namely, sacrificed to Boone Friedricks and his band of murderers. Newcomb kept the wagon locked up tight ever since Colt ran afoul of Daisy the Dancing Bear and ended up buried in an unmarked roadside grave for his troubles. Newcomb had claimed the wagon and its contents as his own property, just as he’d claimed the whole camp, and he didn’t take kindly to anyone challenging his decrees.

I glanced around camp as I pulled the wagon door shut behind me. From the looks of it, no one had noticed me pick the old padlock and slip inside. The camp was quiet, and the circled wagons were dark. Several inches of glistening snow covered the ground, further muffling all sound. In the center of camp stood a tall evergreen tree decorated with bits of colored yarn, tiny figures made of straw, and strips of old carnival tents cut into ribbons. Even with all that had happened, folks still thought they might experience a little joy and hope, what with Christmas being just a couple of days away. Far as I was concerned, though, they were grasping at straws, and the tree—with the sad-looking little straw men and the ribbons tossing feebly in the breeze—looked more like a funeral marker than anything else.

Hell! I thought. For all we know, them flesh-eaters’ll come back into camp again before the holiday was over. Maybe they’ll want another of us to serve as their own Christmas feast!

I turned my attention to the contents of the dead man’s wagon. There, amongst dusty crates full of props and racks full of musty old costumes, I found the small, wooden case. It was shoved underneath a scarred-up saddle, and as I dragged it out, every crate and box in the wagon seemed to shift, like moving one small piece would bring the whole place crashing down around me. I moved a little more slowly, grabbed the box without any major calamity, then jumped out of the wagon and scurried off into the shadows with my prize.

Inside the box I found McGregor’s pearl-handled Colt revolver. The gun gleamed in the darkness, and as I grasped the handle, I could’ve sworn I felt a jolt of greased lightning jump through my fingers. There was magic in that six-shooter, I just knew it. I’d seen Colt shoot the feathers off a crow’s ass at a thousand paces and at the wink of an eye. I’d seen him perform such feats with that gun—feats I wouldn’t have thought possible. Like I said, I didn’t know much about guns and about shooting and about killing, but I figured I could use whatever magic was left in that gun to help me.

To help me put those cannibals in the ground once and for all.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT TUESDAY…

Discuss the the upcoming new Oni Pres series THE SIXTH GUN with the creators at the Oni Press Forums!

So! Thanksgiving. The plan was pretty simple: get up early Thursday morning, fly from National Airport to Charlotte, then from Charlotte to Birmingham. Then, late on Saturday, we’d fly back home. Of course, since I said, “the plan was pretty simple” you know that means that the end result was anything but.

It started out on target; got up at 4:15am, Charlie picked me up at 5:30am, and by 5:50am we’d parked the car, checked in, and checked our luggage. (There were plans to go running several days, plus nice clothes and casual clothes packed, so the bag was otherwise bigger than I’d have planned. It could have still fit in the overhead compartments, but since it was a full flight I figured I would just find it easier to not have to struggle.) At 7am, our flight was completely boarded and we soon took off for Charlotte, despite heavy fog in DC.

It was around 8am that the pilot came on the intercom. I thought he was going to say we were descending to Charlotte, but instead he started explaining that they had mechanical difficulties and the flaps on the wings wouldn’t come back up after take-off, which would make landing tricky. And, because of heavy fog in both Charlotte and DC, they couldn’t land safely at either airport. So as a result, we were being diverted to Pittsburgh. Yes, instead of going 330 miles southwest, we were going 191 miles northwest.

After we landed, they started working on the plane. And working. And working. And working. After an hour or two, we realized that we were in trouble, because there was no way that we would make our flight to Birmingham. Worse, the only other flight from Charlotte to Birmingham was already overbooked. So that wasn’t an option either. Charlie got on the phone with USAirways, and after a lot of talking they booked us on a Delta flight from Charlotte to Atlanta. It’s only two hours from Birmingham so it wasn’t impossible, right?

Except the airplane still wasn’t ready. After several hours they finally let us off the plane to stretch our legs (and get food if necessary), then they moved us onto a new plane. Finally we took off, back to Charlotte. We landed there at 1:30pm, a mere five hours and fifteen minutes late. And too late for the Delta flight to Atlanta.

At this point, we wanted to just go home. Getting to Birmingham for Thanksgiving was impossible, and staying in Charlotte was not our idea of a good time. That’s when we discovered a new snag. The woman at the ticket counter wouldn’t change our flight because we were only flying one way on USAirways (the way back was via Delta), so she said we’d have to buy another ticket. Aaarrrgghhhh.

I stood in line for the assistance counter, with about 25 people in front of me, while Charlie got on the phone again with USAirways. After an hour, I still wasn’t at the front of the line, but Charlie had someone on the phone that said yes, they’d fly us back and no, we did not have to buy new tickets. Charlie went to a new ticket counter where the woman proceeded to say that we’d have to buy new ones. Fortunately, Charlie had kept the guy on the line and handed her the phone. (Also, around the same time, another passenger from our flight who had also given up on getting to his intended destination told her to stop giving Charlie a hard time because we were from the same mechanical error disaster.) Finally we got our boarding passes, got on a new flight now seating back to DC, and at 4pm were back where we started.

Well, except for our bags, which we didn’t get until the next evening. But I rather expected that.

Exhausted (we’d been awake for 12 hours and in airports/airplanes for 10 of them), we drove up to Rosslyn, had pizza at Piola, and then went home and crashed. For better or for worse, the most memorable Thanksgiving I suspect I will ever have. Hopefully next year things will be a bit calmer. (And hopefully next year I will get to do what I’ve wanted to try: brining a turkey.)

[Originally published at gregmce.com. You can comment here or there.]

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/11/30/hellblazer-261/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1119

Written by Peter Milligan
Layouts by Giuseppe Camuncoli
Finishes by Stefano Landini
32 pages, color
Published by Vertigo/DC Comics

It’s nice to see that Peter Milligan, Giuseppe Camuncoli, and Stefano Landini’s run on Hellblazer is still going strong. When the run first began, it was certainly moving over some familiar territory. What I hadn’t expected to see, though, is an extended riff on the idea of what happens when John Constantine loses and then frantically tries to make things right. It’s the sort of story that normally would have truncated itself by now; Constantine screws up, mopes for an issue or two, and then it’s soon forgotten. Here, Milligan lets Constantine’s mistakes continually hover over his head. Maybe it’s that Milligan is letting the character feel his age, understand that he’s at the point where he can’t stop walking away from his errors? Or perhaps Milligan just thought it would be interesting to explore the idea a little further than most writers on Hellblazer have gone. Either way, I’m not complaining.

Milligan and company are also taking Constantine out of his normal confines of Great Britain, although admittedly in the case of his destination of India, it’s a former British colony. Still, they’re using it well; there’s a sharp comment or two about the stereotypical ideas that people carry around towards the country and its spirituality. On the down side, Milligan’s also going for the stereotype of the seedy human trafficking underbelly of India, which just goes to show that it’s impossible to break away entirely from some perceptions. Still, with Camuncoli and Landini drawing the book so beautifully, it’s hard to get too worked up over the idea. How they aren’t super stars in comics is a mystery to me. At the end of the day, Milligan, Camuncoli, and Landini are an excellent reminder of why Hellblazer can have over 260 issues and still tell new and fresh stories.

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-no-reason-to-talk-about-books-i.html

http://confessions123.blogspot.com/2009/11/falling-in-love-with-myself-again-both.html

"...the art plays a huge role, and Joëlle Jones manages to bring a look to the characters that is both its own thing--they look and feel like comic characters--and yet captures a look that evokes the appearance of the actors that played the live-action versions."

"Jones’ art is utterly fantastic. She just nails facial expressions and the comedic timing of the show. Surprisingly awesome, a definite buy."

"If you've ever read Ellerbisms, you already know that Ellerby has a knack for bringing instantly likeable, warm and real characters (OK, people in Ellerbisms) to the page. The inhabitants of Chloe Noonan: Monster Hunter are no different. I'm already pretty scared that if I ever meet Chloe's mate, Zoe Fox, her teeth will do something bewitching to me and I'll find myself listening to My Chemical Romance and crying at teatime.

The other thing I would say is that the polish Ellerby delivers is impressive. I see a lot of small press stuff that looks... I'll say 'rough around the edges' - not this, though. The printing and overall presentation of the issue - like in the one before it - are on a par with what you'd expect from one of the bigger indie publishers like Oni Press."

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/11/30/shield-3/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1117

Written by Eric Trautmann and Brandon Jerwa
Pencils by Marco Rudy, Eduardo Pansica, and Greg Scott
Inks by Mick Gray, Eber Ferreira, and Greg Scott
40 pages, color
Published by DC Comics

I’ll admit it, after the lackluster The Red Circle mini-series, I was ready to write off the newly-licensed group of characters owned by Archie Comics. After three issues of The Shield, though, I find myself glad that I gave it another chance. The lure to get me to read some more was due to Eric Trautmann as writer than anything else, and Trautmann has not disappointed. He’s using The Shield as a book about a military man in a world of super-heroes, and it’s something that works far better than it should. His missions are orders from the higher-up, and his methods are slightly different than what you normally see from super-heroes.

At the same time, Trautmann makes sure not to fall into an obvious trap, and does his best to keep the character likable. (I’m not sure what it says about society today that it seems almost expected to have a military character in comics end up unlikable.) Add in some beautiful art by Marco Rudy and Mick Gray (plus an assist by Eduardo Pansica and Eber Ferreira), and this has turned into a well-crafted and entertaining book. Even the parade of DC Universe guest-stars moving through the title hasn’t annoyed me like I’d feared; Trautmann’s done a good job of picking the right characters to appear here.

Even the second feature starring Inferno by Brandon Jerwa and Greg Scott is working out better than I’d have thought. Inferno was the most nebulous concept from The Red Circle mini-series, but Jerwa uses that to his advantage—think The Fugitive with amnesia—to create a conspiracy thriller. This is actually the issue where it’s finally clicked into place for me; Scott’s moody art (which I loved on Gotham Central) makes the Neutralizers sufficiently creepy, and the ever-moving target of the main character is starting to turn out some good stories even with the shorter page count. If you’d been turned off of The Shield from The Red Circle, go on and give it another chance. It’s an enjoyable, solid book.

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/2009/11/30/lenore-1/

http://www.readaboutcomics.com/?p=1115

By Roman Dirge
32 pages, color
Published by Titan Books

Back in the day, if Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (and its spin-off Squee!) was title that SLG Publishing was best known for, Lenore was certainly right behind it. Roman Dirge’s stories of a cute little undead girl mixed sick humor with mind-crushing puns as punch lines; it was sort of like sitting next to two people each trying to out-gross the other, but in this case Dirge was the only one playing. Now, after several years of silence, Lenore is back and from Titan Books, and it’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed.

Dirge still follows the old pattern that I remembered in the past; Lenore moves through life in a slightly oblivious fashion, runs into an unexpected (and most likely deadly) obstacle, and ends up defeating it without really trying. All, of course, to the frustration of whomever she’s up against. That’s what we get here, as Lenore has an encounter with the man who originally attempt to embalm her. It’s funny and I chuckled in all the right (or should that be wrong?) places, although at the end of the day Lenore was exactly like I remembered its old run of stories. I think it actually works better as individual comics than a collected edition; the chances of the joke getting old are far less in short doses. Lenore may not set the world on fire, but it makes me laugh and at the end of the day that’s a good thing.

posted at SRS