I keep thinking about the ocean lately. It’s been two years and a half since I stood on a seashore, far too long for my taste (Baltic Sea doesn’t really count, right?). I’ll get a healthy dose of ocean a little bit more than two weeks from now, and until then, this cute short webcomic by Sam Dow came to my mind, first published in 2014 (as far as I can tell). It is called Tattoo and ticks a lot of boxes on my favorites list: a female cast, an encounter with the unknown, nice wavy drawing style, and it’s a silent comic.
This is the Halloween edition, and today’s story morsel is a tiny webcomic made by Heather Franzen in 2012, Scaredy Cat. I love the idea of silent comics, and this kitten’s nocturnal adventures really don’t need any words. No jump-scares or other or other terrifying stuff here; the only thing you’ll need to be afraid of is immense cuteness!
Brian K. Vaughan has written so many interesting comic stories that he was bound to show up here eventually. Some of them I love (Pride of Baghdad will get an entry, too!), some I found intriguing, but they didn’t draw me in.
Paper Girls immediately got me by reminding me of two other immensely popular tales: Like Stranger Things it features teenage heroes riding bikes and getting involved in fantastical and mysterious events, and it seems to hop on the train of 80s nostalgia. Like Lumberjanes, it’s focussed on friendships between girls and shows what a girl gang is capable of, even when confronted with the most improbable events straight out of the cheesiest b-movie inventory.
Paper Girls transcends them both. While the combination of space age and suburban life provides a charming backdrop for the events, the ongoing story doesn’t get stuck in the 80s formula. And there is a distinct sf feel from the beginning, anchoring the onslaught of the supernatural we soon face.
What I liked most – besides the brilliant before-sunrise color scheme – were the characters. Paper Girls develops four very different girls into firmly grounded heroines, without adhering to common types and clichés. Tiffany, the geek, is teenage girl first and geek second, and I’d even hesitate to call her “the geek”, because she’s drawn as a human with many facets (and all four girls are geeks). They have poignant, sometimes shockingly sad backgrounds, and their tough decisions and hasty reactions when their neighbourhood is beleaguered by more than leftover stragglers from Halloween feel all too real. As do the consequences of their actions.
I’m curious about where the story will end up, and I hope there’s at least a half-decent plot in the end. But for the moment, I want to see more of Cliff Chiang’s rad art, and enjoy what turned out to be the most relatable and likeable girl gang of all the all-female casts I encountered in the sf comics field recently.
In Germany, we’re having an ugly debate about cultural identity and guidelines for integration if you’re new to this country. It’s anything but harmless, and it’s not so much a debate, but mostly pre-election hokum by announcing crude theses nobody I know can truly identify with … at all.
It made me think of this comic by Jem Yoshioka. Home & Home illustrates how cultural identity is a complicated, painful, beautiful process that’s maybe never really complete. In some smaller, sneakier ways even for those of us who think our roots are not as widespread, as the world is changing around us. You could not step twice into the same river, Heraclitus said. Maybe those of us who desperately wish it was always the same river have to swim hardest and will one day wonder how they’ve ended up in such a strange place.
Ultra-short story time today with a light and adorable tiny comic about parenting among monsters by Iguanamouth. I’m always fascinated by comics without words and love to see what kinds of stories artists are able to tell relying only on images. Check it out!
Iguanamouth is a tumblr celebrity with her drawings of unusual dragon hoards.
The internet is made of clickbait, hate and porn, they say. But it is also made of awesomesauce. Every Sunday, I’ll try to recommend one piece of the later – a comic, a short film or game, a short story, whatever grabs my attention. It won’t always be the hot new stuff that just hit the web. But it will be worth your time, I hope. And I will one day have an archive full of links to small story gems I really love. Win-win.
Let’s start with The Gaeneviad, a sweet little comic created at a 24-hour comic event at the comics festival of Angoulême 2015, featuring the Olympian Gods. It was drawn and written by French artist Boulet in just 24 hours and has 24 pages full of adorable characters and unexpected fun.
Check it out!
I fell in love with Digger on the first pages of the comic, where the eponymous wombat heroine heads straight into trouble by doing what she does best: digging a tunnel. Alas, this particular tunnel was no masterpiece, so she gets lost and finds herself in a strange new and utterly wombat-free land. It took me a while to realize that Digger was a heroine (those wombat boobs are kind of hard to spot when you don’t expect them …), and I absolutely loved the fact that “it” turned out to be a “she”. A big share of the powerful, cool and odd characters of this graphic novel turned out to be a she. It’s a revelation to meet such a gathering of fine and engaging female leads in an adventure story, among them Grim Eyes (a warrior from a matriarchal hyena tribe), Murai (a destined but troubled human heroine) and Surka (a shrew with a new calling).
Yes, that’s a lot of furries! They inhabit quirky and well-rounded societies; and against the bigger backdrop of the odd world Digger finds herself in (filled with useless oracular slugs and hero vegetables, among others), they seem like the most ordinary people whose lives are turned inside out.
Although Digger is a comic, there’s plenty of text, and most of it put a big smile on my face. Digger’s witty commentary on the events made me root for this practical, down-to-earth heroine. As she is hauled into a story of epic dimensions and – for a wombat – terrifying mythical and magical qualities, her deadpan comments keep everything grounded. Aren’t we all wombats here, far from our comfort zone and thankful for every remark to put things into perspective?
What good is a god that does not fossilize?
Digger is indeed somehow reminiscent of Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods, and, while we’re at it, also of Jeff Smith’s Bone (in structure and premise). Both of these could inspire a love letter of their own, so for me that’s a big fat bonus. Snarky jokes, witty comments on religion, mythic overtones and sheer epicness aside, Digger goes right into the feels with its unusual cast of characters. It explores themes like domestic violence and ethical education in a graceful, unobtrusive way – and that’s something I have rarely seen done in fiction.
I stumbled upon Digger quite late – it had been published completely then (so I could just tear through reading day and night), it had won its Hugo Award, and it had – to my great disappointment – already finished its crazily successful crowdfunding campaign for a printed omnibus edition (which I still got afterwards, so not all was lost …). I’ve read it multiple times since then. After the first rush of excitement, I’m now able to fully appreciate what an effort it must have been to finish this huge, unwieldy thing. At nearly 900 pages, you need quite a solid table to read the omnibus edition. If they would offer a digital edition someday, I’d go for it immediately, as much as I love to have the big tome with the pickaxe on my shelf.
But back to the travails of the fabulous Ursula Vernon, creator of Digger. It was published as a webcomic, an unplanned work of someone with nearly no experience in the graphic novel field (see this old, old interview). The way the story unfolds, this is quite unbelievable. Kudos to Ursula, for pulling it off over the course of years without getting tangled up in the plot. Yes, there are some meandering parts of the story, but they fit into the whole quirky style and add depth instead of dragging on.
So, Digger. One of the best things that happened in my life. It showed me how strong female characters could really look like and how the best thing in fantasy still is to get thrown into a world where anything can happen. Not that Digger would approve of it. But I do, a lot, and love this marsupial fiction with all my heart. Or with all my liver, if you’re more inclined to the hyena side of life.