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Introverts Illustrated by Scott Finch book review and creator interview

Introverts Illustrated. Scott Finch. Sold in Bundles of 5 ($25) at Partners & Son.

I turn to ambient music when I need an added kick of focus. Usually, it’s when I’m writing. I would never have a show or a podcast on in the background. No, I need something stripped down that will allow me to actually think when I’m writing or reading. Complete silence is quite nice too. Ambient music can be ideal at times. That’s what I did for this most unusual work by the artist Scott Finch. It helped in just the way it was intended to do: a means to push back all the added noise and clutter in life. Finch’s new work, Introverts Illustrated, is a collection of 21 mini-comics, meant to be accepted as a whole and, most likely, read in one sitting . . . or as many as you feel like, no pressure.

INTROVERTS ILLUSTRATED!

That’s the way it worked for me: to have the whole collection by my side and just dive in. I wouldn’t say it’s like reading through 21 issues of King Cat or even Superman. The experience is something different and, in its own way, a bit groundbreaking. I mean, you don’t usually see a creator presenting a whole series of individual works all at once. The tried and true method is to parcel them out one by one, just like the big mainstream comic book companies. Reading this work, in sections, I believe adds to its mystique, a work already in a full embrace with the sort of ambiguity you traditionally find in poetry and painting. In other words, take this more as a high art piece and less as anything resembling a traditional comic, indie or otherwise.

Diving into the work.

Scott Finch is a pure artist: someone who loves to experiment; who will create work just to see what happens; who will treat a project as something sacred that may end up never to be viewed by anyone else. That kind of commitment is what gives you something like Introverts Illustrated. Now, there’s a lot of things that can be said about this work and one of the most important is to just enjoy it and reach your own conclusions. There are a number of so-called gatekeepers and experts with their own theories as to what this project is about or isn’t about. I sincerely hope that I don’t fall into that group–or maybe I do–but I do my best to be self-aware. Anyway, I sense that what excites those of us deep in the comics cognoscenti is the sense that this is indeed one of those unicorns we keep hoping for: a work that you can really claim to be something different. Once a work of that sort is spotted, it’s like throwing chum into the waters where sharks await. Within seconds, the water spreads out a bloody spew of pontificating. Lucky for me, and you, I have taken the time to get to know the work and the artist. After this review, we proceed with an interview with Scott Finch.

Dig in!

One key concept, in all honesty, is ambiguity. Scott freely admits that he followed his muse and did it his way. His first priority wasn’t clarity. In fact, during our chat, I point out one fragment of text that is every bit as enigmatic as the art it accompanies. Now, that can be beautiful–and it is. But, like I’ve already stated, don’t expect this to be a typical work–but, oddly enough, don’t expect it to be cryptic either! It’s more like a series of dreams and, I believe you’ll agree, dreams do follow their own logic and often can be very lucid and highly accessible.

Issues of Introverts Illustrated.

Another key concept, to be sure, is the creative process. At its core, the backbone to this project, is automatic drawing. That’s where Finch started: one drawing after another, without thinking too much, just drawing. That’s the beginning of the process. Where you go from there is the next level of engagement. It can involve making numerous copies of various elements and arranging them, see what you get. Cut here. Paste there. Trace this. Redraw that. Things emerge, unexpected things.

Finally, I would add one more important concept: structure. You begin with the raw and make your way to the cooked. At some point, you add text, all the while staying true to what you’ve done before and letting it guide you. Getting back to dreams, there are a lot of paths following various dreams to be found here, all engaging, and delightful. If I had to be pinned down as to what is going on in this free-spirited tableaux, I would say this is a series of meditations on the human condition, especially the human who aspires to something different, to something artful, to something like this most unusual work.

When we talk about such matters as comics being an art form, something that’s been well established over the years, it can still be elusive to pin down. Sometimes, it’s found within more commercial work. And, sometimes, it is not found within indie comics. Within the rough and tumble world of any given comic arts festival, the reality is that it is as much a marketplace as a more obviously corporate-heavy major comics convention and it can be a challenging arena, even for unicorns. I sense that Finch is modest about the whole thing and will find his way. As an artist, first, he is more interested in some good old-fashioned artistic problem-solving and that will serve him well. Perhaps he’ll find the most success within a gallery space or whatever other venues and platforms may arise in the future. Finch will most likely follow the words in his own work regarding his career: “I make space for it. I do not seize it.”

“I make space for it. I do not seize it.”

Alright, we’ll end the review there. I encourage you to check out my conversation with the artist. During our talk, Scott not only explains what’s going on in this project but really opens up about his process which will undoubtedly resonate if you folks, whatever kind of creative work you happen to do.

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The Spawn of Venus and Other Stories Illustrated by Wallace Wood book review

The Spawn of Venus and Other Stories Illustrated by Wallace Wood. Seattle: Fantagraphics, 2025, 216pp. $39.99.

Review by Paul Buhle

The Great Bohemian of comic books’ grandest moments, Wallace (aka “Wally”) Wood drew like a genius for a number of publishers before falling to overwork, too many cigarettes and too much liquor. EC loved him the best, and it was a mutual feeling, notwithstanding the inevitable tensions of artist, collective/collaborative work process, and the reality of a boss.

Wally Wood in his prime, excerpt from “My World,” Weird Science #22, 1953.

This splendid volume collects some of his finest Sci-Fi—he was also among the greatest satirical artists for Mad Comics—from forgotten series titles like Weird Science, Weird Fantasy and Incredible Science Fiction of the early 1950s. It also offers much woderful contextual material, commentary by serious scholars—university professors but mostly otherwise—to individual stories and collaborations, from editors to scriptwriters to presumably lowly inkers.

Most “classics” comic art volumes these days contain a hat-tipping of industry insiders. Same here. Howard Chaykin, vaunted comic artist (and a short time assistant to  Wood)  does not have a lot to say beyond describing Wood’s talent, nor does the appropriately admiring Larry Hama, of today’s GI Joe, itself a remnant of another and in this case, less pleasant, aka Cold War, comics era. S.S. Ringenberg, a comic scriptwriter, and fan-interviewer works harder with a biographical introductory sketch that goes little beyond ground familiar to Woods devotees, but reminds us sharply of the nature of the self-destructive genius. Wood put a gun to his head in 1981, leaving no note. The career disappointments were real, especially for an artist who worked hard at improving his style. But by that time, two divorces and a separation, he became too exhausted to keep himself in check. Besides, the glory years of the older comic art had been long past, and he was not suited to the new comix generation. His barely controlled artistic id did not find a home in the ill-paying Undergrounds.

Meanwhile, in the substantial Introduction,Tommy Burns and Jon Gothold go through the stories one by one, in such detail that no biographer of a novelist may ever have done better. Do we need such detail? Perhaps not every reader will think so, but among the plot summaries, these scholarly-minded critics offer so many small insights that the net result is remarkable, and demands several readings for details.

Wood reached his apex, arguably, in adapting the stories of Ray Bradbury, and this tells us much of what need to know about the vital and lasting importance of Wood’s work. This reviewer came upon Bradbury’s writings around age 10 or 11, in the Republican political/cultural climate of Central Illinois where the perceptions of sophisticated New Yorkers, for instance, would have been unusual and likely mistrusted. Mad Comics explained McCarthyism in the most penetrating and hilarious fashion. Bradbury, who was personally close to the Hollywood Blacklisted, found ways in his stories and novels to explore the takeover of public space, the waning of the New Deal stress for reform in favor of forced patriotism, but also unapologetic commercialization of daily life. He saw the future and it looked bad.

Thus, famously,  Fahrenfeit 451 and The Martian Chronicles, made into feature films but only after the worst of McCarthyism had faded. Bradbury had been trying for years to send out warnings, even while he was making a living and a reputation (including a personal move to Hollywood)  in a Sci-Fi field with leftist underpinnings going back to the 1930s. He also badly wanted to escape being pegged as a “genre writer,” but never made it and did not need to: we loved him anyway.

Photo funnies tribute in The Spawn of Venus and Other Stories.

Wally Wood so internalized the logic of Bradbury that stories composed by others at EC somehow have the “Bradbury Touch” in addition to the EC Touch, which consists—leaving aside the art— in terse scripting and a surprise ending. Like the alien civilization in “He Walked Among Us,” where the Savior was actually an Earthman who preaches love and forgiveness is executed. Two thousand years (!) later, another Earth visitor learns that the aliens’ holy symbol is the rack, aka cross, where the presumed savior was tortured to death.*

You get the idea. Human folly in the Atomic Age has become toxic. Wood could have predicted what a willful destroyer like Musk would write about opening up the need for “planetary” civilizations when Earth has been plundered beyond repair.

Not that all the stories are like this. And Bradbury could not have featured the scantily-clad beauties, alongside the virile young males, that seemed to be a specialty for Wood. Earthmen fall in love with alien females who assume a delicious human form only… to revert back, inspiring horror. Humans landing on a distant planet learn that the babies born to them, urgently wanting love and care, may have a dozen arms and look like octopi or something else weird (in this case, mommy does not care, which sounds right).

How were Wood’s females all so young and buxom, you might ask? The mostly male and young readers of these comics didn’t likely ask at all. The happy dreamers of another story are space explorers kidnapped to service the all-female population of a planet whose males have died out after a war. The “scientifically selected” dames look awfully familiar.

Wood could also favor social criticism–with a dark turn. In one story here, tens of thousands of Earth people who disappear in bunches, every few hundred years, turn out to be farm edibles, as a scientist explains over…a turkey dinner. Actually, this was an EC Sci-Fi trope several times over, like the aliens in another EC comic who capture interplanetary humans to use their skins for…fashionable minkish coats, and so on. Why do we egotistical Homo sapiens think we can abuse the animal kingdom?

From “Spawn of Venus”

Wood also loved the occasional in-joke, with a drawing of himself in the final panel. Here, EC Comics miraculously predict unexpected events, like the appearance of flying saucers, or the rise of surgical sex change (think “Christine” Jorgenson in tabloid headlines of the time). A jowly comics publisher (could it be plump William Gaines, who inherited EC when his father died in a boating accident?) wants them to take “a loyalty oath” (cue to Joe McCarthy). After some alien hi-jinks, the real Wally confesses that he and his fellow artists are actually disguised Venusians saving the world from horrible-looking Martians!!! What those helpful Venusians might look like beneath their disguise…we will never know.

In the real world, EC’s marvelous Sci-Fi, “Real War” and humor series (MAD and PANIC) never reached the sales level of its various, blood-dripping but also deeply satirical horror comics, also full of plot reversals and revenge-justice. Gaines was called upon, in the famous Congressional hearings (held in the same Manhattan courtroom as “Red” hearings a few years earlier), to explain the horror as something less than dangerous to young minds. The inquisitors weren’t listening to his answers, and the guillotine blade fell on a glorious moment in popular art.

Wally Wood outlived his time, this is the tragedy of his life and not only his. Harvey Kurtzman and his trusted artists hit their peak as satirists, also arguably as editors and artists, in their twenties and early thirties. Some became highly successful illustrators. None could recapture the magic.

Paul Buhle

*Let it be known that the Ray Bradbury Museum rests in the blue collar city of Waukegan, Ilinois, which only happens to be my wife’s hometown.

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The Horrors of Being a Human: A Cola Pop Creemees comics review and creator interview

The Horrors of Being a Human: A Cola Pop Creemees Comic. Desmond Reed. Microcosm Publishing. 2025. 270pp. $19.99.

Desmond Reed is a rising talent in the world of comics. His latest book makes that clear. Years of dedication to the making of comics has resulted in his design being sharper, his insight being keener and, heck, the guy knows how to put on a good show. It is that focus on storytelling, as well as development of character, that leads us to such a smooth and pleasing comics experience. As Reed explains, he has five characters, the Cola Pop Creemees, who, among other things, represent different emotions and different aspects of himself, or yourself. I can see that this comic is very relatable, in the spirit of such groundbreaking work as BoJack Horseman. Let me just say from the get-go, the Cola Pop Creemees are very different and original, and if you see them turned into an animated series someday, well, you heard about it here first.

Cartoonist and Publishers.

The world of cartoons and comics has always dealt with far more than might meet the eye, depending upon where you venture off to. In the world of Desmond Reed, you enter a kaleidoscopic world of the real and surreal. For instance, our heroes live in a house in the shape of a hand. There is plenty to be anxious about in the real world, and this comic manages to tackle many of these issues within its quirky borders.

Cartoonist and Comics Festivals.

Desmond Reed has set the stage and, from there, he can modulate the tone. Stories vary in length with some far-out zany and others more contemplative. Reed’s most serious and ambitious work to date is one of his longer stories, “Memories,” winner of a 2022 MICE Mini-Grant. Here, he focuses on his most madcap character, Wallace T.J. by allowing for a careful look back at his development and the darker side to his life.

“Memories”

Life is quite a journey with plenty of bumps in the road and that’s where a daring artist like Desmond Reed steps in to create art to defy even the most challenging of times. Believe me, there’s always room for another valiant artist to lead the way, especially one as gifted as Reed. It all comes down to the reader getting a chance to know the work–and so I encourage you to seek out this highly inventive work and let it speak for itself. I can tell you that Reed has a magic touch, with his pared-down whimsical style, when it comes to addressing some very serious issues like addiction and depression.

The Cola Pop Creemees live inside a hand.

Desmond Reed is not afraid to go down to depths of despair and come back up with a tear and a smile. It is a combination of a pared-down style and a direct straightforward narrative. Think of it as a friend who sets you down and needs to tell you something. Maybe there will be some humor thrown in that both of you share. But then you get to the story, without pretense, and you just get it. That is what is happening here. Reed has constructed characters that you can tap into in the very best spirit of comics. You can say that the lodestar guiding us cartoonists in such matters is Peanuts, and, I dare say, there’s some of that Peanuts DNA in the Cola Pop Creemees gang.

Some much said within a special world.

What irony there is to be found here is subverted by a persistent vision of perseverance. That is not an easy thing to achieve and it has everything to do with Reed following his own instincts and staying true to his authentic self. That’s where you get original work and not some trendy “next big thing” that is aping some previous “next big thing.” Yes, it is possible for comics to be funny, sincere and have some redeeming quality that will speak directly to you.

It was a lot of fun to get to chat with Desmond about his new book and sharing thoughts about the cartoonist life. I hope you feel the same. So, please do check out the above conversation on the Comics Grinder YouTube channel and please view, LIKE and COMMENT directly on the channel. Every bit of input and engagement helps us continue.

Keep up Desmond Reed here. And be sure to visit Microcosom Publishing here.

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Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco: George’s Run author Henry Chamberlain 08/24/2025

I have an event coming up at San Francisco’s Cartoon Art Museum, 781 Beach Street, on Sunday, August 24th, 2-4pm to talk about my graphic narrative, George’s Run: A Writer’s Journey Through The Twilight Zone, published by Rutgers University Press. It would be so great to have you there if possible.

If you are a science fiction fan, or love various forms of related genres, this is for you. Science fiction acts as a convenient umbrella but, if I was asked to dig deeper in my description, it would be Dark Fantasy. My book is about a group of writers who, individually and in their combined efforts, basically invented a lot of the pop culture we take for granted today. Specifically, I’m talking about the writers behind the original Twilight Zone and Star Trek.

We’ll have a slide show lecture format where I’ll share as much as I can about how I went about creating my book. George Clayton Johnson is our guide, one of the last writers from that 1950s-70s era of golden age television writing. I got to know George pretty well and our friendship led to my book. We’ll have plenty of time for a Q&A as well as overall discussion. I’ll take my cue from the audience. I’m happy to do demonstrations of my art style and chat about making comics too. Feel free to draw or write along the way, and we can share results after we’ve had time to discuss. Hey, this is as open-ended as you like. We might even have some snacks. Seriously, comment here or get a hold of me via email and I’ll consider any ideas.

One step at a time. First, let’s plan on meeting up at the Cartoon Art Museum on August 24th.

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TERMINAL EXPOSURE book review

Michael McMillan, Terminal Exposure: Comics, Sculpture, and Risky Behavior. New York: New York Review Comics, 2025. 231pp, $39.95.

Review by Paul Buhle

ONTEMPORARY CRITICS’ RECOGNITON of “Outsider Art” can be said to have come early to its precursor, Underground Comix of the late 1960s and 1970s.  “Recognition,” that is, in the best way:  publication—albeit with a real if fleeting audience—far from any recognized, official art scene. Thus artist/nonartist Michael McMillan. A leftover from those days and now past 90, he fairly inhabits this book of his past drawings and sculptures, with a standout introduction by Crumb biographer Dan Nadel and supportive blurbs from the likes of Gary Panter and Bill Griffith.

Nadel takes less than four pages to give us the heart of the McMillan saga, among the more unusual in the always-unusual “comix” world. Son of a railroad office worker and an art teacher, the young artist grew up mostly in Fresno, home of an agricultural empire with the Sierra Nevada nearby. An insular kid drawn to fantasy popular culture, building model airplanes and railroads, also a high school newspaper cartoonist interested in abstract art, he attended the USC School of Architecture just before he found himself drafted into the peacetime Army.

Trying to avoid “predictable boredom.”

Moving to San Francisco after his two-year hitch, McMillan landed, in the late 1950s, in US version of Bohemia. Over the next decade, he worked at various jobs, took art and sculpture classes at San Francisco State and felt himself inspired or confirmed in his inclinations by a 1969 exhibit of the Hairy Who. Would-be successors to Surrealism but conspicuously without the label, the group of Chicago artists lasted only 1966-69, with a couple of group showings in Chicago and one (the one that McMillan saw) in San Francisco. Drawing heavily upon vernacular street visuals, sharing the psychedelic colors, anti-racism and anti-war politics of the contemporary scene, they offered ambiguous but transgressive symbols of a radically shifting public culture. Most of all, arguably, they challenged the contemporary New York art scene. Thereby, they moved close to the sensibilities of the emerging Underground Comics, but from another direction.

McMillan actively sought out comix publisher Don Donahue, living nearby in the city’s Mission District, and arranged publication of a one-shot comic of his own, the instantly obscure Terminal Comix. Recognized and greatly admired among these artists a half generation younger than himself, he remained nevertheless an outsider.

Oddly, the public history of the artist almost ends here, in the 1970s. A handful of comix (after 1980, restyled  “alternative comics”) anthologies, including Robert Crumb’s Weirdo magazine, took him up, usually for one-shot contributions. He earned a  quiet reputation among the artist-editors as someone drawing upon multiple vernacular visual sources, breaking down the barriers between experimental art and comic styles. He made no effort at further outreach, giving himself over to the quiet life of his own sculptures, paintings and prints on his home press. He did it all because he enjoyed the work for its own sake, living cheap and taking little commercial jobs along the way. According to the more notable artists, this self-chosen insularity demonstrated his artistic purity: he had nothing to gain and no interest in gaining it.

The easiest part of Terminal Exposure to describe is naturally the autobiographical five comic pages. Boyhood fascinations with machines, boyish fantasies of heros and adventures followed by fantasies about girls at his school, and above all, riffs on hiking seem to flow forward, however weirdly drawn and narrated. One might say that all of this constituted, already, a way of being alone, learning to be alone, and satisfying himself with that choice.

More pure fantasy dominates the book otherwise. The strips that appeared in the comics anthologies and others very much like them would be the most narrative, a few pages at a time. His characters change, sometimes satirical superheroes or random oddballs. The setting is forever abstract, more than unreal and often humorous but never in the predictable fashion of funnypaper gag strips.

Reflecting his own life or rather his view of his life, these dream-like sagas often take place amid wide horizons, even amid some mild eroticism and occasional nudity. Returning to the fantasy films and pulp literature of his young years, his characters appear in jungles or the high seas. More than occasionally—this is often theorized as the real source of Wonder Woman’s popularity—a miraculous female overwhelms the ostensibly innocent but definitely gratified male, ignorant in the mysteries of biological appeal and incapable of seduction.

Most remarkably, McMillan is also capable of straight-forward memory art, like his experience in climbing mountains of the West, in the half century from 1951 onward. Of his four drawn and otherwise unpublished volumes of illustrated stories, we get two pages of exertion and also escape—from an entangling relationship. This is an artist who, we learn repeatedly and in different circumstances, made the choice to escape relationships in order to be on his own.

The assorted sculptures in the book mean less to this reviewer. They certainly resemble the products of surrealist experimentation with mixed materials and playful human/non-human depictions. McMillan, even more than the collective Hairy Who, makes no editorial, political or any other statement about his his art. It Is.

Trying to reach those “primeval forces.”

The best or easiest to see McMillan’s work is as an extension of comic art forms appropriate to the age of comic/art experimentation, an age that began in the 1960s and has, in multiple ways, continued as fixed forms break down at all levels. By contrast to, say, Pop Art’s stylizing familiar and notably banal comic strip  protagonists and remaking them into studio art, McMillan goes the other direction. They escape Pop Art by posing the issues differently.

Or is this somehow familiar, after all? The last several years have seen a burst of renewed Surrealist activity in its own name,  exhibits in dozens of locations celebrating the centenary of Surrealism’s 1924 birth but also a global art-show interest and an accompanying scholarly surge. Who would have guessed that the younger generation of radicalized graduate students and an evidently wider milieu would re-establish actual surrealist groups in familiar (Prague) and unfamiliar (Helsinki or Sao Paulo) locations, create the Journal of Surrealist Studies or its sponsoring International Society of Surrealist Studies? Why, in a world damaged almost beyond repair, would the long-gone dreams of the 1920s Parisians now find watchers, listeners and zealous disciples?

Your reviewer, publisher of two journals (1967-91) with several special issues organized by the Chicago Surrealists (and mainly Franklin Rosemont) has a special stake in these questions, without any firm conclusions. McMillan, unpublished and unknown, might easily have been a “discovery” of surrealist researchers rather than the underground comix circles. Instead, he may offer a kind of bridge between several worlds, not by dint of any political commitment or any commitment, except to his own imagination and skills.

Whatever the analysis, Terminal Exposure’s content, that is to say also the artist’s work as a whole, can now be said to have been exposed to public examination. Also the artist himself? Probably not,  because without intending to do,  Michael McMillan remains a mystery within his work. Or he has done so by intent, the very reason he stopped drawing for publication just as soon as editors stopped asking?

Paul Buhle

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The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism book review

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism, by Sue Coe and Stephen F.  Eisenman. New York: OR Books, 2025. 190pp, $22.95

When I eyeball the work of Sue Coe, the highly awarded radical illustrator, painter and lithographer, what comes to my mind is a forgotten 1935 book, Karl Marx in Lithographs, by Hugo Gellert.

Review by Paul Buhle.

From Comrade Gulliver by Hugo Gellert

There’s a good reason, if also personal. I went to interview Gellert in New Jersey, in 1984, and found the 91-year-old artist voluble in memories of The Masses magazine—he had long since been the only surviving staffer of any kind. The radical modernist experiment in words and pictures reached wide audiences before it was suppressed, for opposing the US entry into the First World War.

To extend this story a little before turning to the book at hand, the Hungarian-American Gellert traveled back through a Hungary amidst revolution and counter-revolution. He subsequently became a leading artistic antifascist, a collaborator with Communists in art and politics.  Karl Marx in Lithographs is easily his most didactic work.* Here, Capital rules ruthlessly, murderously, in iconography that reminds us, in turn, of some of Sue Coe’s favorites, notably Francisco Goya, not to mention a favorite contemporary of Gellert, Kathe Kollwitz.

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism

Cue, Sue Coe. Growing up in the English countryside, so close to a hog butchery that she could hear the screams of the animals being slaughtered and smell the process, Coe took an art degree and emigrated to New York City at the dawn of the 1970s. It would be a mistake, as more than one friendly critic has noted, to see any of Coe’s work as far from the experience of animals at large, animals mostly endangered by ruthless, mechanized human activity. Sometimes—rarely—animals of all kinds are seen in a utopian future, reconciled with a better humanity and highlighted by children. This is clearly her idea of the classless socialistic society.

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism

Hugely successful and widely admired in a variety of art forms, she has very often published in World War 3 Illustrated, the annual lefty anthology best known for bringing forth young radical artists. Coe even provided the vivid image of an African-American worker as the frontispiece of Wobblies! A Centennial History of the Industrial Workers of the World, the 2005 anthology that started my own later-life project of radical comics

Coe calls herself a activist artist, and for good reason. Meat-packing has been high on her list, but factory farming, the hyper-exploitation of immigrants and victims of the prison-industrial complex, the curse of AIDS and, very often, war in its various grisly forms can be seen. She does not want us to turn away from the horrible.

The Birth of Fascism (2017) by Sue Coe.

The Birth of Fascism (2017) might be viewed as the precursor to The Young Person’s Guide, and a handful of her art on Trump specifically from that period, is on view again here. The interpretive essays by Stephen F. Eisenman, retired professor and art historian, also columnist for  Counterpunch, offers a fresh element of collaboration. Eisenman is nothing if not didactic: he explains that US democracy has never been all that democratic, despite endless narcissistic claims, but that fascism is much, much worse. The undercurrent of “racial fascism” never really disappeared from the mainstream, and the pseudo-scientific American theories of race superiority found a welcome home in Hitler’s Germany.

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism

A reviewer earlier this year, in the London Morning Star (formerly the Daily Worker), praised The Young Person’s Guide but posed the problem of the “melodrama” in the artist’s work, what he called “the exaggerated emotional effect …..[of] focusing on grief pain and suffering.” In the critic’s view, this tendency somewhat diminished Coe’s impact, as has the common place alternative in Left art, an exaggerated sentimentality. Each extreme, according to the critic, tends to emphasize “feeling” over understanding and serve the reader poorly.

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism

This is criticism-among-comrades that continues a discussion going back well over a century. Socialistic best-sellers on the page, in theater and in film achieve an emotional pitch that is not likely to be cerebral, nuanced or even necessarily in line with modernism. Popular audiences are unapologetically sentimental, even if they enjoy pratfalls, especially in ridicule of the wealthy classes.

The Young Person’s Illustrated Guide to American Fascism

Without saying so, Coe meets this criticism head on, in the traditions of angry audiences turning their rage upon the villains in the pay of the ruling class. Weapons makers dance over the pyramids of corpses, a chorus line of skull-headed dancers carries on beneath boots squashing a hapless victim. Trump appears again and again, a monster, trophy hunter of infants, assaulting the embodiment of the Statue of Liberty, and so on. The images of death and destruction, lined up one after another in the book, are demanding: LOOK!

And that, surely, is Coe’s point. Eisenman insists properly that she mixes mythic and contemporary images, adopting the role of a reporter of current events, while also the fine artist widely seen in museum and other public exhibits.

Paul Buhle

*My interview with Gellert is in the Oral History of the American Left archive at New York University’s Tamiment Library collection.

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Raymond Chandler’s Trouble Is My Business comics review and author interview

Raymond Chandler’s Trouble Is My Business. w. Arvind Ethan David. a. Ilias Kyriazis. Pantheon Books. 2025. 128pp. $29.

You may think you know Raymond Chandler. Thoughts of the quintessential detective Philip Marlowe and The Big Sleep may come to mind. In order to get to the bottom of it all, I highly recommend that you go back to the original 1939 short story by Raymond Chandler, featuring his most famous hard-boiled detective, Philip Marlowe–and the basis for this new graphic novel adaptation. Let me emphasize that this comics version is a gem. It does, without a doubt, bring up an issue in the zeitgeist that I’ve followed with great interest: re-working this or that classic work to contemporary scrutiny. It brings to mind a question I recently saw posted on Quora: Was John F. Kennedy a woke president? One person began their answer with: “It is not an easy fit, to take ‘woke’ values and apply them retroactively to 1960.” Not only is it not easy, the effort to examine history through a “do-over” lens is problematic. And, in creative works, the results can range from mixed to intriguing. That said, the trend to do do-overs is strong and prevalent ever since Hamilton opened on Broadway in 2015, ten years ago. So, the impulse is there and the question is what do you do with that impulse.

Trouble Is My Business by Raymond Chandler

Trouble Is My Business is a fast-moving Philip Marlowe short story authored by Raymond Chandler (1888-1959), that much we can’t deny. It is a classic noir detective story written by one of the masters. In all the rapid-fire storytelling, surely it would be asking a lot for Chandler to also recast himself as an activist or futurist–but, it turns out, he was far more aware than some may credit him to have been. The do-over strategy is playing with time travel or something beyond the reality of space and time. And perhaps that’s where a writer like Arvind Ethan David steps in to write this comics adaptation. He is no stranger to science fiction. He worked with Douglas Adams as executive producer to the TV adaptation of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. Now, maybe I’m being a bit tongue-in-cheek but I say all this just because I know other purists out there might be having some difficulty with a rethinking of a classic. But let’s take a pause. The way I see it, “a comics adaptation,” or any other adaptation, can utilize whatever options needed to fulfill a certain vision. Arvind Ethan David is no stranger to writing comics adaptations. He has written seven. And that’s only part of quite a remarkable career.

Arvind Ethan David’s approach, as he states in an interview with me, is to open up the story to other voices. He made a point of giving each major character a spotlight, complete with each having their own color palette and lettering font. That’s a tricky strategy, which David readily admits. You’re playing with the delicate balance to a tightly-woven mystery. When you add to a story, the trick is to not upturn the original’s purpose and charm: one gumshoe’s pursuit of solving a mystery. Not only that, we as readers owe it to ourselves to not overlook the original in other ways. For example, if you don’t bother to read the original, you might simply dismiss it as somehow inferior and unenlightened to today’s standards. Chandler’s version has George, a Black chauffeur, with an education from Dartmouth, who holds his own with the main character of Philip Marlowe. That’s certainly forward-thinking without it being forced upon the narrative.

“You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”

Without resorting to spoilers, let’s just say that the impulse to balance the order of things is very strong today and so there’s some tilting of the power dynamics in favor of George in this graphic novel. Again, a tricky matter to pull off but an interesting one. George is elevated a bit in status in this comics version–complete with Philip Marlowe thanking him for his heroics. Marlowe says to George: “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.” But, hey, after Raymond Chandler was given time to recover from a time travel adventure to 2025, he probably would applaud this tinkering with his work! Give the guy some credit. My guess is that Chandler would politely quibble with his relatively plot-driven story being transformed into an even more nuanced character-driven story. Given ample time to soak up the zeitgeist, maybe he would just smile and say that it’s awesome. The guy knew how to read a room.

Harriet Huntress

Chandler’s short story also features a strong woman character, Harriet Huntress. She is a femme fatale and that may distress some readers but this is, after all, noir crime fiction so the character is true to form. It would be ridiculous to apologize for her being a villain. Anyway, she puts Philip Marlowe in his place in both the original story and in the comics adaptation with, as I say, the added benefit of getting her extended point of view in the graphic novel.

George Hasterman

It’s fascinating to read Chandler’s own introduction to his short story. He fears that there’s no way out of following a proven formula to writing a successful mystery. Well, you could argue that some writers today may fear there’s no way out of following a proven formula to writing a successful work that follows the latest trend. As I say during our conversation, I found David’s graphic novel to smoothly thread that needle. Part of what David is after is finding a way to tilt the focus, with a nod to the contemporary, and I believe he has achieved that. In David’s version, you see each major player take the stage in a fuller way, from their own point of view, and you can argue that Raymond Chandler himself would have had no problem with it. And he would have championed the artwork in this book by Ilias Kyriazis too.

So, I welcome re-imagining a classic. That’s not the issue. Just think of Orson Welles’s triumphant 1936 production of Macbeth, which featured an all-Black cast, 80 years before Hamilton. The problem is when people conflate history: mixing different events, time periods or contexts leads to inaccurate understanding of the past. Raymond Chandler’s original storytelling, his language, his artistry, doesn’t automatically require a retelling. Here’s a fine example from the original Raymond Chandler story: a quick snapshot of another strong woman character, Anna Halsey. A line, among so many other quintessential Chandler lines, that Arvind Ethan David uses in his graphic novel version too:

“I need a man good-looking enough to pick up a dame who has a sense of class, but he’s got to be tough enough to swap punches with a power shovel.”

Nice knowin’ ya.

Ultimately, the do-over strategy, or we can call it the Hamilton Effect, still has a lot of gas in the tank and can lead to some interesting results. But, at the end of the day, we will do ourselves a great injustice if we dismiss this or that classic, solely based upon some notion, ill-conceived or otherwise. I’m not saying that is happening in this graphic novel. More discerning readers will appreciate what is going on in this comics adaptation. Chandler’s work does not demand to have new life breathed into it, per se, and withstands being “reworked” in the same creative spirit as other great fiction has been re-imagined, from Shakespeare to Jane Austen. I think, in that sense, we can say that Arvind Ethan David has created a most notable reworking.

I hope you enjoy the above conversation with Arvind Ethan David, the author of this graphic adaptation. Raymond Chandler’s Trouble Is My Business is published by Pantheon Books. Do seek it out. It is brainy, quirky and something Raymond Chandler would give a gracious salute.

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Comics Chat: Todd Webb on The Poet, Volume 2!

I present to you, The Poet, Vol. 2!

We’ve had quite a number of comics chats here at Comics Grinder and we will press forward with more! In that spirit, I present to you Todd Webb, a perfect ambassador to the world of comics and a great person to chat with. This time around, we focus on Todd’s new collection, The Poet, Volume 2. You can find it via Todd’s website and various platforms, including Barnes & Noble. Todd is on a roll with one of the most consistently funny and engaging comic strips. Keep in mind, as we discussed in our previous chat, Todd is an old-fashioned cartoonist creating a daily comic strip. You must hop aboard and see what he’s up to. Join him on his Substack right here. Consider the following example:

In the above example, the bird gets the better of the poet yet again. But, I’m sure, the bird is only trying to help the poet reach his “A” game.

The Charlie in the Rye, the Schulz-Salinger mashup mini comic.

Todd is always coming up with new ideas. Recently, he wondered about how much Charles Schulz (1922-2000) and J.D. Salinger (1919-2010) might have in common considering they were contemporaries: both going off to war; both sharing in the same culture; both creatives working at the top of their profession. Well, you get the drift. The upshot to this is . . . very funny. What if you took lines from The Catcher in the Rye and inserted them into Peanuts comic strips? Todd was pleasantly surprised with the results and you will be too. Here is one example:

Well, pretty uncanny, don’t you think? This Schulz-Salinger mashup is priceless.

I try something a little different for our deep dive into Volume 2. It occurs to me that the back-of-the-book Notes are all too often overlooked or taken for granted. But people appreciate them when they read what’s there. With that mind, I begin with the notes and work by way back to the contents. Makes for some interesting discoveries.

Patrick McDonnell’s favorite comic strip from The Poet.

I encourage you to pick up a copy of The Poet, Volume 2. This 410-page book makes a perfect gift for a friend, a loved one, or yourself! I leave you with one more sample. This is the one that cartoonist Patrick McDonnell (Mutts) cited as one of his favorite The Poet comics strips in the foreword to this collection. If you’re a Mutts fan, then you appreciate the interest. Both McDonnell and Webb have a way with paring down to the essentials.

Be sure to check out our conversation and, if you have the time, please LIKE and COMMENT over at the YouTube Comics Grinder channel. Your support keeps us going.

 

And be sure to check out Todd’s Etsy store where he’s a Star Seller!

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Paul Buhle on Comics Scholarship

The Rise of the Graphic Novel by Alexander Durst

Comics Scholarship

Under Review: Mike Borkent, Comics and Cognition, Toward a Multimodal Cognitive Poetics (Oxford University Press, 2024); Benôt Crucifix, Drawing from the Archives, Comics Memory in the Contemporary Graphic Novel (Cambridge University Press, 2024); Alexander Durst, The Rise of the Graphic Novel, Computational Criticism and the Evolution of Literary Value (Cambridge University Press, 2024); Fabrice Leroy, Back to Black, Jules Feiffer’s Noir Trilogy (Rutgers University Press, 2025);  Jonathan Najarian, ed., Comics and Modernism, Memory, Form and Culture (University Press of Mississippi, 2024); Diana Whitted, ed, Desegregating Comics: Debating Blackness in the Golden Age of American Comics (Rutgers University Press, 2023); Frances Gateward & John Jennings, The Blacker the ink: Constructions of Black identity in Comics & Sequential Art (Rutgers University Press, 2015); Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester, ed., Arguing Comics: literary Masters of a Popular Medium (Mississippi, 2004); Paul Buhle and Abigail Susik, ed., Surrealism, Bugs Bunny, and the Blues: Selected Writings on Popular Culture (PM, 2025).

Essay by Paul Buhle

We comics readers and fans, engaged in the nearly-vanished Funny Pages since we learned how to read old-fashioned ten cent comic books, are likely to be overwhelmed by the reality, let alone the volume, of comics scholarship. One of the scholars under review here quips that comics scholarship is among the most “productive” cultural efforts by sheer volume, in the continuing rise of deconstructive university life. Jobs and salaries depend on something here, and if most undergraduates these days are said to shy away from actual books, the graduate student world offers new horizons. And not only in the US, and not only in English, of course.

It all makes sense, at least some sense, first of all because the number of undergraduates taking courses on comics, or with comics as part of the curriculum, seems to continue to rise. For prospective comics artists or writers, the world of digital comics, at least, can only grow larger and more global.

Krazy Kat mashup. R. Sikoryak, after George Herriman.

Comics history can only be an uncertain part of this large narrative. Ben Katchor, magnum figure in his own artwork but also with his use of comics classes at Parsons, quipped that the word “new” in comics signifies only what is happening today. Very respectfully, your reviewer considers the emergence of Underground Comix as the end of censorship in the creative regions of comic art, and the proper beginning of something new that remains something new. But Katchor certainly has a point.

Desegregating Comics, Diana Whitted, ed.

Historians  of comics will likely feel  that “new” does not reach what they find most interesting. Several of the essays in Desegregating Comics point to the story line and art work of artists in the local (sometimes not so local) Black press, at its comics peak from the 1910s to the 1970s.

Patty-Jo ’n Ginger comic strip (1945 to 1959), by Jackie Ormes: “It would be interestin’ to discover WHICH committee decided it was un-American to be COLORED!”

To take a case in point, Jackie Ormes, creator of the Patty-Jo ’n Ginger strip that ran for a decade in the Pittsburgh Courier (the largest-circulation Black paper for many years), combined fashion, cheesecake and politics in ways impossible for white artists. She was watched closely by the  FBI in the 1940s-50s, and she wrote popular novels that pushed at the edges of racial controversies.

Negro Romance, Fawcett Comics (June-October, 1950)

There are plenty of other cases in point in this remarkable volume, including the rise and fall of Negro Romance during the 1950s, and the post-censorship Black comics full of bemuscled men and full-figured women in states of undress and violent behavior.  Plenty more in these pages offer the reader/scholar a lot to take in and mull.

The Blacker the Ink, Frances Gateward and John Jennings, ed.

An earlier anthology along the same lines by the same publisher, The Blacker the Ink, explores Black comics productive from somewhat different angles. Here we find some analyses of African novels unknown to me, and some superheroes, male and female, like none seen before. Consider pregnant teen Raquel/Rocket who strains to click on her utility belt over a very pregnant belly, in a comic referencing Batman and Robin but with a  Black  superhero Batman and a very un-Robin. Most of all, however, consider artist Aaron McGruder’s Boondocks, hugely syndicated around the turn of the twenty-first century. The Black Power era was long gone by this time but the strip’s star, Huey, won’t let it go forgotten. In referencing a past radical challenge, Huey seriously criticizes the invasion of Iraq and its Black apologist, Condoleezza Rice. Huey, named for Huey Newton, uses the hip hop culture icons to attack the unending white domination of society and the eagerness of some Black elites to become partners of it.

Comics and Modernism by Jonathan Najarian

Historical study can be extended in other ways, as we learn in the essays of Comics and Modernism. Consider this, for example: the promoters of the famed Armory Show of modern art in Manhattan, 1913, challenging and in some ways transforming the US art scene, happened to be….comic artists in local newspapers. Katherine Roeder’s “Modernism for the Masses” has a lot more to say about how the graphic ridicule of cubism in particular inevitably made the ideas about modern art available to a wide audience. And how the Greats, at least some of them (like Winsor McCay) toyed with modernist themes in their drawings, and George Herriman’s Krazy Kat based a certain amount of its strangeness in the internalization of modernist gestures. “While plot and dialogue loop in upon themselves, Herriman’s  customarily changing landscape ramifies with kaleidoscopic consequence for the reader’s eye and comprehension.” (p.77). ( Yes, reader, “ramifies” is a word.)

Surrealism, Bugs Bunny, and the Blues, Paul Buhle and Abigail Susik, ed.

This notion sounds right, and is in line with the general line of commentary on Krazy Kat, one of the most discussed of all comic strips, ever. I ask the reader’s indulgence to add that Franklin Rosemont, Chicago surrealist, was far ahead of this crowd of critic-scholars in his essays on Krazy Kat (also the forgotten Smokey Stover), and that a collection of Rosemont’s writings on popular culture, co-edited by myself and Abigail Susik, has shortly been published: Surrealism, Bugs Bunny, and the Blues: Selected Writings on Popular Culture (PM, 2025). But I digress.

Arguing Comics, Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester, ed.

Meanwhile, the scholarly investigation of women-oriented comics is here to stay, and then some. This is new, so new that the classic collective of the field, Arguing Comics: literary Masters of a Popular Medium (Mississippi, 2004), edited by Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester, has only a couple of women commentators (one of them is Dorothy Parker, on the Red artist Crocket Johnson) and no female artists studied. Since this book’s publication, the exploration has begun in earnest.

Taking a case in point. A rather famous essay, Scott Bukatman’s “Telling Details: Feminine Flourish in Midcentury Illustration and Comics,” argues that by “reading the face” of women in comic strips and comic books, looking hard at the fashions of women in the stories, reveals something beyond the nominal plot narrative. Buried deep in the history of the magazine advertisement and the illustrations of short stories, emerging vividly in “romance comics,” these images offer the real intent. If (as the essayist recalls of his earlier writings), superheroes actually fight crime to wear costumes, romantic comic characters have plots in order to display their stylishness. Makes sense to me.

Drawing From the Archives by Benoit Crucifix

Benoit Crucifix, burdened or graced with probably the most unusual name of any comics scholar ever, argues vividly that comics have always been “about memory,” and the main change is that today’s artists more and more wish to explore the collective memory of comic art itself. Art Spiegelman, who taught comics at the School for Visual Arts (taking over the slot from his mentor, none other than Harvey Kurtzman), is naturally the key case in point. From the 1970s onward, Spiegelman reconstructed comic art tropes of the famous, like McCay, and continued to do so in a famous cardboard-framed special created as a response to living in Manhattan in 9/11.

Not that Spiegelman was alone, in his (and my) generation. Robert Crumb’s uniqueness, stunning in 1970 and hardly less so today, lay in his semi-conscious recovery of tropes from past generations, not only comics but street signage of past big cities, sheet music illustrations, and so on (including the famous Big Feet). Artist Chris Ware and book designer Chip Kidd have lifted this borrowing up to new levels, thanks to the use/manipulation of software and comics archives.

Thanks likewise to ruminations from the likes of Jeet Heer,  the totemic artist Frank King and his genre-inventing Gasoline Alley with its continuity day-by-day treatment of ordinary (white, urban, middle class) life comes back into focus.  That King was the master of the Sunday comic page recuperating museum Modernism could not be an accident. He was a walking encyclopedia.

Back to Black by Fabrice Leroy

Many are the specific studies in this new genre of comics studies. Fabrice Leroy’s study of Jules Feiffer disappoints this reader by treating only his last cycle of works—leaving aside the works that reached us way back in the early 1960s and remain in memory as “underground” before the “underground” had a name in the Counter Culture.  Never mind. The very, very, very close reading of what the critic rightly called the “noir trilogy” would be more satisfying if it had explored further Feiffer’s own family connections with the Old Left (aka Communist Party/Popular Front) and FBI pursuits. That it takes the visual text at literal face value, with plenty of excerpts, is enough. It’s a good book.

We would be a the end of this roaming except for the most difficult of texts. The notion that comics would be suscepitable to “computational criticism” is presumably as new to the readers of Comics Grinder as it is to me. But, still, the idea that a computational study of “brightness” in comics, from Donald Duck (very bright colors) to Frank Miller (very dark indeed) is intriguing.  Can the “digital humanities” gathering together comics sales figures, scholarly and popular reception, escape the overwhelming accumulation of data? I am hoping not to be kept awake at night worrying this point.

But author Alexander Dunst has something else to say, of more identifiable value to this commentator. He describes “the rise of the graphic novel as an instance of aesthetic gentrification.” (179)

This is very real, if not startlingly original. The reader of the graphic novel, at least those intended for adult audiences, is more and more likely to be buying an “art book.” The leading art book publisher in the US and Europe for a half-century, Abrams, dubs its series “ComicArts” (all one word) for good reason. The most “arty” book ever to be edited by the reviewer (along with Harvey Pekar) is Yiddishkeit (2011), published by Abrams. This is proof positive for me, but the most prestigious graphic novels these days are likely in the same category. Chris Ware produces art books that cannot be anything but art books, even with meaningful social content.

Comics and Cognition by Mike Borkent

I would like to offer something lucid on the book Comics and Cognition, but I find the language-framework too hard for me to follow. Comics, with their spatio-topical apparatus, are said to be “tabular” rather than narrative, producing a “sense of sequentiality and rhythm, but refuse a sense of narrative without. Direct connection to referentiality,” amounts to a “panelogic.” (p.201)

Admittedly, this analysis refers to “abstract’ comics so far out of my world that I have no need as well as no capacity to see what is going on. Do we need to Go Gestalt or did those little lines coming out of the feet in comic characters back to the 1910s to indicate motion, seem to come from some place in popular culture that may not be susceptible to Gestalt?

We wonder.

Paul Buhle

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Parable of the Talents graphic novel review

Octavio E. Butler’s Parable of the Talents: a Graphic Novel Adaptation. By Damian Duffy, John Jennings & David Brame. New York: Abrams ComicArts, 2025. 300pp, $25.99.

Review by Paul Buhle

Perhaps it is the ominous ecological signs that we have been living through, with  a painful added irony, looking back on the declaration of Earth Day in 1970. No doubt it is the worsening of government in every sense with the first Trump administration and now the second. Whatever the reason, the work of the late and great Science Fiction author Octavia E. Butler is now amidst graphic novel adaptations, adaptations like none others.  After a first streamed series adaptation of her novel Kindred, more are already in development. In other words, we are going to hear a lot more from and about Octavia Butler, the first SciFi writer to win a MacArthur (“genius”) Award and more famous in her death than she could possibly be in her own lifetime.

It is fair to say that Butler never deserted, through all her efforts, the ominous and only occasionally hopeful narrative that she adopted almost from the beginning of her work. If it sounds like Afro-Futurism, that would be accurate because she actually did much to invent the genre, so to speak, without giving it a title. Inasmuch as we live, all of us, in a time of ecological disorder and disaster, with the fragmentation of communities all around, and desperation never far away, she pushed the boundaries even further.

Within this daunting framework of her narrative, the situation of non-whites is precarious, to say the least. Whites are almost certain to get the last lifeboats off the sinking ship, and some of the whites will certainly be eager to kill anyone else seeking escape—another anticipation of Trumpism. Not to mention whites, really anyone in power, seizing every opportunity to exploit and degrade minorities along the way. Here is the Butler Dilemma: her nonwhites do not actually live in some distant continent like Africa, surrounded by other non-whites. Everyone shares a location—it happens to be Future California—also sharing a need for relationships, love, family and a means for collective survival. Non-whites or at least her non-whites, most of all women, have accumulated the historical, collective understanding that they need, if only they can express their full creative energies. Amazingly enough, this narrative also portends the possibilty of interracial relationships and even interracial marriage, something rare for literary science fiction to describe right up to the current century—interspecies sex and romance has, somehow, always been easier.

Butler manages this, not by the geographical escape but by blending a  black culture-based spiritualism within a perpetually uneasy hybridity compulsory in the face of the struggle for survival. Only the gay, black SciFi master Samuel Delaney, who swiftly sought to help the young Butler, had dared to go so far in terms of race and sexuality. Butler takes what may be called the next step.

The Parable of the Talents is, in fact, the second outing for its two creators, Adaptor Damian Duffy and artist/professor John Jennings. Kindred (2017) won an Eisner among other awards and it was their effort that reached streamed film adaptation. They create with a sense of confidence that is observable on the printed page. A reviewer wrote of that work that the graphic expression, “brutally jagged, disorientating, gothic, and impactful art” had added a dimension to Butler’s work, a new angle of vision, something achieved in a small handful of past graphic adaptations going back to prize-winning woodcut adaptations of novels (Including Moby Dick) by Lynd Ward. But more jarring.

If Kindred travels back in time as a black woman in 1976—married to a white man—and finds herself on a plantation before the Civil War, then Parable of the Talents moves forward to 2032, seventeenth year of the Pox. A father-figure physician saves the life of an eighteen year old and they struggle to live, even to build a community, up in the mountains of Humboldt County.

Along with its precursor, Parable is certainly among the most ambitious graphic novels ever published, at least in English. Perhaps the narrators/artists might have chosen to reduce the level of detail, including dialogue? Or allotted more space for the physical settings? I think these questions will be distant, not even secondary, to devotees of Butler who are readers of graphic novels. To have devoted herculean efforts to this production is a sufficient accomplishment.

But consider this, in a book actually written and drawn a bit before the 2024 election. We are about halfway through when we realize that that corralling of homeless children, redirected into Christian indoctrination under the regime of a fascistic and power-mad president, is more of a prediction of Trump II than anyone could have predicted.  “It is hard to imagine that it happened here, in the United States, in the 21st Century, but it did. [President] Andrew Steele Jarret scared, divided and bullied people into letting him ‘fix’ the country….his fanatical followers—filled with righteous superiority and popular among the many frightened ordinary citizens who only wanted order and stability—ran amok.” (p. 180).

Of course there were wars, which are viewed here as “useless, ridiculous, obscene” (p.181) and properly so. War feeds the Maw, and that Maw grows later  on, even after a supposed peace is negotiated.  Christianity is here at its worst, or among the worst in two thousand years of intermittent and self-righteous attacks upon non-believers.

Our protagonist, suffering horribly for herself and others, helps lead an uprising that shakes the scene around them even if a national government cannot be overthrown. A destiny of freedom may be reached across generations and across the cosmos if not on Earth. This offers, for Butler but also for current socialistic SciFi writers like Kim Stanley Robinson and China Mieville, a prospect of hope.

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