Best Comics of the Year: Supplement

In this week's issue of New York, I get a nifty little sidebar to list what I think are the best five comics of 2007. Originally, this was going to be longer, with an introduction and everything, so I'm reprinting the intro that was eventually cut for space, along with 25 additional excellent comics published this year.

In the comics world, 2007 was a year in which each of the two dominant houses put all its eggs in one basket -- and smart readers went off in search of other baskets. The mainstream comics landscape was dominated by Civil War and 52, long mega-event series of limited interest to readers who haven't spent the past twenty years memorizing DC and Marvel continuity arcana. Luckily, there were a lot of other places to find pop thrills in 2007.

Manga continued its takeover of the American graphic novel market; bestseller lists and bookstore shelf space are both now dominated by Japanese comics in translation. With varying artistic success, major creators transplanted characters from other media into the comics world: Stephen King's Dark Tower comics haven't added much excitement to an already played-out book septology, but Joss Whedon's comics-only season eight of Buffy the Vampire Slayer has invigorated the beloved TV series while bringing hordes of new fans to comics shops – even if there's no proof yet they're buying anything else. And in 2007, two beloved stories approached their ends: Brian Vaughan's standout series Y: The Last Man began its final story arc (its final issue publishes in January), while Tsugumi Ohba's hugely popular (and entertaining) manga Death Note reached its baroque conclusion in July.

In addition to the five best comics of the year, here are 25 more comics of note published in 2007.

Alive: Volume 1, by Tadashi Kawashima and Adachitoka (Del Rey)
All-Star Superman, by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely (DC)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Long Way Home, by Joss Whedon and Georges Jeanty (Dark Horse)
Criminal: Coward, by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (Icon/Marvel)
Crossing Midnight: Cut Here, by Mike Carey, Jim Fern, and Jose Villarrubia (Vertigo)
DMZ: Body of a Journalist, by Brian Wood and Riccardo Burchielli (Vertigo)
Elk's Run, by Joshua Hale Fialkov and Noel Tuazon (Villard)
Flight 4, edited by Kazu Kibuishi (Villard)
Ghost Stories, by Jeff Lemire (Top Shelf)
Good as Lily, by Derek Kirk Kim and Jesse Hamm (Minx)
The Goon: Chinatown and the Mystery of Mr. Wicker, by Eric Powell (Dark Horse)
I Killed Adolf Hitler, by Jason (Fantagraphics)
James Sturm's America, by James Sturm (Drawn + Quarterly)
King City: Volume 1, by Brandon Graham (Tokyopop)
Laika, by Nick Adadzis (First Second)
Mu Shi Shi, Volume 1 by Yuki Urushibara (Del Rey)
Notes For a War Story, by Gipi (First Second)
Parade (With Fireworks), by Mike Cavallero (ACT-I-VATE/Image)
Robot Dreams, by Sara Varon (First Second)
Runoff: Chapter 3, by Tom Manning (Oddgod)
Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together, by Bryan Lee O'Malley (Oni)
Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil, by Jeff Smith (DC Comics)
Shooting War, by Anthony Lappé and Dan Goldman (Grand Central Publishing)
Shortcomings, by Adrian Tomine (Drawn + Quarterly)
Yukiko's Spinach, by Frédéric Boilet (Fanfare/Ponent Mon)

Review: Ann Patchett's 'Run'

Run
by Ann Patchett
Harper, $25.95

Ann Patchett’s last novel, 2001’s Bel Canto, became a bestseller and a book club favorite by virtue of Patchett’s remarkable ability to vividly draw an enormous cast of characters -- teenage Latin American terrorists, a Japanese electronics magnate, an American opera diva -- in just a few deft strokes. So convincing are her portraits of this varied ensemble that the novel stays afloat long after its premise -- a months-long hostage standoff in an unnamed Latin American country -- should have collapsed.

In Patchett’s new novel, Run, she narrows her cast to a single complicated American family, and so it’s a shame that for all their carefully accreted detail, few of the characters ever come to life on the page. Instead, they feel like fictional constructions, players in a plot too dependent by far on coincidence and bad luck.

Run tells the story of Bernard Doyle, a former mayor of Boston, and his three grown sons: academic Tip and dreamy Teddy, black brothers adopted early in childhood by the Doyles, and their older brother Sullivan, Bernard’s biological child, who may be white but is the family’s black sheep.

On a snowy winter’s night the family takes in a young girl, Kenya, after her mother is injured in an accident. If this were a different kind of book, it would spoil the plot to reveal that Kenya’s mother is also Tip’s and Teddy’s biological mother, but Run is so constrained in its purview -- it takes place over a mere 24 hours in a snow-globe version of Boston, populated by few characters who aren’t fortuitously crucial to the plot -- that most intelligent readers won’t be surprised by this twist. Indeed, this is Run’s greatest flaw: like figures in a snow globe, its characters are stuck under glass, more trapped by the machinations of Patchett’s plot than the characters of Bel Canto were by gun-toting terrorists.

That plot smacks of melodrama, replete with uncovered scandal, revelations of parentage, a tragic death, and even a long dream sequence starring a ghost whose description as “the wisest twenty-five-year-old that God had ever created” doesn’t mask that she’s a device meant mostly to graft one extra limb on an already crowded family tree. With all these twists and turns inflicted upon a mere six characters over the course of a single day, the novel begins to have the feel of a soap opera, albeit an extremely sensitively told one.

Late in the novel, Sullivan bemoans that he returned to home after a long sojourn in Africa just in time for a brand new family drama to unwind. “He tried to imagine how interesting this story would have been had he not been a part of it,” if someone simply told him the tale a few months from now, Patchett writes. “He didn’t think the entire story could possibly take more than ten minutes start to finish, and yet to live it, to actually be a part of its playing out, was an excruciating investment of time.” Run isn’t excruciating by any means, but it can be exhausting, despite Patchett’s smooth narrative voice and her treatment of Kenya, who is bright and serious and feels like a real pre-teen girl. If only Patchett had had the vision to smash her perfect snow globe of a novel and see what shook loose.

Overkill

To: aceofspades_kingofhearts_joker@therollingstones.com
From: agent@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: new email address
Date: 15 June 2007 22:51:50

Dear Keith,

Sorry I’ve been out of touch, but as you’d changed your email address again I was having quite a time getting hold of you. Thankfully I was finally able to get the new one from Mick, who’s been more than helpful throughout this process.

We’re on the home stretch now, and I plan to submit the proposal and excerpt to a select group of editors. I’ve looked over your proposed list, and while I appreciate the time you’ve taken to compile it, I’d as gently as possible like to suggest that you let me handle the publishing industry details. For instance, the late Jacqueline Onassis is no longer an editor, and Pirate Meridian Cherry Bomb Press does not exist as far as I know.

I’m thrilled with your willingness to solicit favorable comments – what we in the industry call “blurbs” – from your friends in the music business. I’m still worried that Robert Johnson and John Lennon being dead might complicate your plans, but you’ve assured me it’s of no consequence, and I’m happy to keep an open mind. I think a blurb from Jesus might be overkill, though.

Finally, while I appreciate the playful spirit in which you let loose a hundred gold-armored mongooses in our offices, I must confess that they made work a bit hard to get done. Svetlana, in particular, seemed to have a real problem, as her only recently-returned lucidity was dealt a blow due to traumatic memories of her time at the Richards Estate. Our filing has fallen seriously behind as a result.

All best,
Ed

Memory

To: robert_johnsons_bastard_son@therollingstones.com
From: agent@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: re: Outline Fuck Yeah
Date: 01 May 2007 09:00:26

Dear Keith,

I’ve read your proposed outline for the memoir, and I think it’s quite good, very vivid and detailed. I might ask that you really make an effort to cast your mind back and recall more stories from the short periods of your life of which you profess to have no memory at all. Specifically, are you sure you don't remember anything from 1956, 1957, 1959, 1961-1963, 1964, 1966, 1968-1972, spring 1973, 1975-1977, “the Eighties,” 1990-1993, New Year’s Eve 1996, 1999, 2000, or 2002 to the present? Even a quick anecdote of the smallest detail – a favorite shirt, some friendly words from a girlfriend, your entire Rolling Stones discography – could really help sell the book to editors. (We’ve done some research here and determined that you were born in 1943, so you shouldn’t worry about your lack of memories of the French Revolution; you weren’t even there!)

Best wishes,
Ed

PS Your gift arrived in the mail; it was far, far too generous, Keith. Also, the package was signed for by my assistant Sean, and the Royal Mail’s reported him to the police. Please do be careful in future about what you send to our offices.

Titles

To: robert_johnsons_bastard_son@therollingstones.com
From: agent@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: re: TITLE-IVE GOT IT MATE
Date: 18 April 2007 08:31:50

Keith,

Many thanks for your email. I’m not sure Snorting Me Dad is exactly right, but let’s keep working at it. I like the new email address, though.

-Ed

475 Supermodels

To: zombieflashlightning@therollingstones.com
From: agent@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: our tea
Date: 28 March 2007 16:14:14

Dear Keith,

It was a great pleasure to meet you, as well as your manager, your road crew, your well-managed staff of shamans, and Svetlana, who is quite stunning. I am invigorated by the thought of helping you put your amazing story to the page, and am certain that I’m the right agent for the job. And I am both surprised and thrilled that you’re interested in taking such an active role in the crafting of the memoir proper; surely you know that this is rare among celebrities of your stature, but will add to the book’s value -- as a work of literature, as an historical document, and in the marketplace as well.

I’m quite frankly in awe of your wonderful ideas to build editorial enthusiasm for the book. However, I may ask you to reconsider your plan to compose the entire manuscript of your memoir on the naked backs and buttocks of 475 gorgeous supermodels. Though your idea would certainly catch the attention of each and every editor to whom we submitted the book, I’m worried that shipping and duplication costs – always a concern during the submission process – might escalate more quickly than you’d be comfortable with.

I’ll be in touch soon. Incidentally, Svetlana is still here, and is conducting a loud and somewhat embarrassingly personal conversation with herself in our conference room. If you have a moment to send someone round to fetch her I’d be grateful.

All best,
Ed

Peacocks

To: zombieflashlightning@therollingstones.com
From: agent@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: memoir
Date: 6 March 2007 12:21:03

Dear Mr Richards,

I must admit that when I asked Sean to ascertain whether you were, in fact, the real Keith Richards, I never expected such an immediate or extravagant response. You may rest assured that the twenty trained peacocks outside our offices have put their point across and may now be returned to your estate. I would be honored and pleased to talk business with you. Could you join us for tea?

All best,
Ed Victor

Keith Richards' Memoir: The Emails

To: zombieflashlightning@therollingstones.com
From: victor.assistant@edvictor.co.uk
Subject: your submission
Date: 6 March 2007 09:45:22

Dear Mr Richards,

Thank you for your recent submission to our agency. Mr Victor has asked me to write to ask you to confirm that you are indeed Keith Richards of the rock band the Rolling Stones. If you could please send along some proof of identification, we’d be grateful. Of course we regret taking this embarrassing measure but we were quite surprised to find your letter in our slush pile.

All best,
Sean Wylde
Assistant to Ed Victor

A Horrible Crunching Sound

My favorite response so far to my Slate piece conflating Harry Potter and Tony Soprano comes from blogger Harry Pata, who patiently lists the reasons why my proposed ending to the series obviously wouldn't work at all:

"Do the Hippogriff" is non-canonical; if you're gonna parody the ending of the BOOKS, don't steal shit from the MOVIES.

Awesome.

Here's a little bit that was cut from the piece for space:

Harry was tired – tired of everything. He walked into the Three Broomsticks and took a seat in a booth near the back, still shaken by his visit earlier that day to Gilderoy Lockhart at St. Mungo’s Hospital – Lockhart, who nearly killed Harry once in the catacombs underneath Hogwarts, but was now demented and sad, with no memory of the power he’d once held.

Kurt Vonnegut Joins Rodney Dangerfield in Heaven

Unlike many readers, I discovered Kurt Vonnegut not through a friendly English teacher or an older brother or a dog-eared copy of Breakfast of Champions found at a local hippie's rummage sale. No, I discovered Vonnegut through his cameo in the Rodney Dangerfield film Back to School.

In Back to School, Dangerfield's character, millionaire Thornton Mellon, has returned to college in order to encourage his son's faltering academic career. Assigned a paper on Kurt Vonnegut, Mellon commissions an essay from the author himself, who (as I recall) appears at the front door of Mellon's spaciously remodeled dormitory suite in the middle of a raging kegger. I still remember seeing Vonnegut's cheerful, rumpled-suit person in the midst of that madness and thinking, "Is that guy real?" To start with, Vonnegut looked like Central Casting's idea of a novelist more than he looked like an actual novelist. And a famous writer -- a writer famous enough to be taught in English classes, anyways -- showing up in a movie that even my 12-year-old self could recognize as somewhat trashy (though awesome) seemed so out of line with the mein of a Serious Writer that I immediately became interested in his work.

Vonnegut's inability to take himself too seriously -- so much so that he was perfectly willing to cameo in a Rodney Dangerfield movie -- characterizes his writing, and it's what made his books the perfect gateway writer for young readers like me moving from genre books to literary fiction. Kurt Vonnegut was the first "serious" writer I ever read, but I read him precisely because he wasn't "serious." His novels were approachable and playful and used plots and techniques I was already familiar with from the sci-fi novels of my youth.

In Back to School, Mellon's essay on Vonnegut -- written by Vonnegut -- gets an F. "Whoever did write this doesn't know the first thing about Kurt Vonnegut!" Mellon's professor rages. Cut to Mellon on the phone, shouting, "And another thing, Vonnegut! I'm gonna stop payment on the check!" I always liked to imagine a giggling Vonnegut on the other end of this conversation, lighting a cigar with Thornton Mellon's check, delighted to have delivered an intentionally incompetent essay on himself. So it goes!

Facing Future

Much to my surprise, my book proposal for Continuum's 33 1/3 series has been accepted, and I'll be writing a book for them to be published sometime in late 2008. My book is about Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's 1993 album Facing Future.





The entire list of accepted submissions is pretty impressive. For instance, my own book isn't even close to being the one I'm most excited about reading. That book is, naturally, the Mountain Goats' John Darnielle writing about Black Fucking Sabbath.

Here's an excerpt from my book proposal:

When he died on June 26, 1997, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole weighed almost 800 pounds. He'd just won the Nā Hōkū Hawaiian music awards for Entertainer of the Year and Album of the Year, and had watched the ceremony from his Honolulu hospital room. After IZ's death, from respiratory failure, the flags on state government buildings flew at half-staff and 20,000 people a day came to view his body, lying in state in the state capitol building. (He was the first non-politician in Hawaiian history to be afforded this honor.)

He was without a doubt the most popular and beloved singer in Hawai'i. His popularity stemmed not only from his music but from his outspokenness on issues of native Hawaiian sovereignty. IZ's transformation from feckless, apolitical youth to politically engaged maturity is a familiar story, but his engaging personality -- plus his almost-literally larger-than-life stature -- made IZ a folk hero in a state struggling like no other with the weight and responsibility of its native heritage.

In that light, Facing Future represents, to most locals and especially to Native Hawaiians, the shining apex of a brilliant career and a crucial artifact of local culture. It's an everyday treasure, an album everyone owns and plays constantly, and two versions of "Hawai'i '78" -- a song first popularized by IZ's brother in the group they formed together, the Makaha Sons of Ni'ihau -- bookend the album. Over a lush wash of ukulele, synthesized strings and throbbing drums, IZ bemoans what the old kings and queens of Hawai'i would think if they saw what their great land has become in these modern times.

But to fans outside Hawai'i, "Hawai'i '78" isn't the album's standout track; for most, it's IZ's delicate cover medley of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World." His unique vocals, applied to a pair of deeply familiar songs, have made the track a licensing bonanza for IZ's label, Mountain Apple Records; the tune has appeared in ads (for eToys and Sony), films (50 First Dates, Finding Forrester and Snakes on a Plane) and TV shows (like Anthony Edwards' final episode of "ER"). That's how most Mainlanders first became acquainted with IZ, and it's that track that has made Facing Future the most commercially successful Hawaiian album ever.

I would guess that most Mainlanders who own Facing Future don't own many other "world music" albums, and I'd guess most listen to very little on the record other than "Over the Rainbow." "Hawai'i '78," to these listeners, is one of a series of nice but unfamiliar songs that exist mostly to be skipped over when they come up on an iPod's random play. To Mainlanders, the album is something of a curio, or kitsch -- a touch of the unthreatening unfamiliar in an otherwise staid record collection.

That disparity -- between a curio and a treasure -- is the starting point for my book for 33 1/3.

So the future that I'm facing is an awful lot of research, writing and editing, though it certainly doesn't hurt that some of that research will happen in Hawai'i. My book is something of an anomaly on the list of accepted proposals -- at the very least, it's certainly the one book among 21 whose title will make a lot of readers say, "Huh?" I'm very pleased and excited that the editors of the series have decided to take a chance on my idea.

33 1/3

I am a big fan of the 33 1/3 series of books, and I'm especially a fan of the extremely public submissions procedure the series has maintained. Run by Continuum Press in New York, the series consists of 50+ short, smart paperbacks, each on a single seminal album. The series has ranged from straightforward histories of an album's recording (Springsteen's Born in the USA, Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea) to in-depth interviews with artists (DJ Shadow's Endtroducing...) to fanciful compendia of detail and data (The Magnetic Fields' 69 Love Songs) to fiction inspired by an album (PJ Harvey's Rid of Me).

Over on their blog, the editors of the 33 1/3 series recently issued a call for submissions for the next two years' worth of titles. About 450 writers answered the call, swamping the editors with proposals on albums by 276 different artists, from AC/DC to the Osmonds to ZZ Top.

As the editors make their decisions, a bunch of writers have posted their proposals, and it's a fascinating look at what makes a person a fan of an album, and what makes them want to write on it. They're all very interesting, and they make me feel as if you could write a really good book on, seriously, any album at all. They also make me feel as though the editors at Continuum must have had a pretty fucking tough month.

Psychocandy by the Jesus & Mary Chain

I See a Darkness by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy

Live at the Star Club, Hamburg by Jerry Lee Lewis

Illinois by Sufjan Stevens

Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret by Soft Cell

Buffalo Springfield Again by Buffalo Springfield

Fevers and Mirrors by Bright Eyes

Shaft by Isaac Hayes

Chips From the Chocolate Fireball by the Dukes of Stratosphear