
Lily Renee, Escape Artist
Lily Renée, Escape Artist. written by Trina Robbins. art by Anne Timmons and Mo Oh. Graphic Universe (Lerner Books). 2011, 96pp, $9.99
Lily Renée, a comic book pioneer, celebrates her 100th birthday this week, on May 12th. Defying the odds, which included evading the Nazis, Lily Renée secured her place in the history of comics. Another comics pioneer, Trina Robbins, was inspired to take Renée’s story and turn it into a graphic novel. This book stands out as a compelling biography that is meant for younger readers, probably up to teens. It’s a gentle narrative meant to relate to readers in their formative years that focuses on Renée’s early years with some hints as to what lay ahead once her family is able to move to New York.
How best to tell the story of someone who survived the threat of the concentration camps–and then sort of stumbled upon and got to play a small role, as a woman, within a “man’s world” during the great golden age of comics? I believe Trina Robbins got it just right! As I suggest, this is a character study, one best appreciated by readers who are still getting their first batches of history and processing it. The art by Anne Timmons and Mo Oh is right in step with the crisp narrative. All in all, this is a great example of the sort of informative book that can be read in one sitting, perhaps as part of a classroom presentation.

Lily stumbles upon her destiny.
In 1938, Lily Renée Wilheim is a 14-year-old Jewish girl living in Vienna. She proves to be a natural artist and that provides a hook, a purpose. Then the Nazis march into Austria. The Night of Broken Glass was not just a nightmare, as young Lily first thought, but very real. Thankfully, Lily is able to leave the Nazi threat behind, essentially “escape,” to England as part of a Kindertransport refugee program. Her parents will eventually follow but the die is cast: Lily learns that she must depend upon herself, cultivate her own talents.

A chance to make her mark.
This is a slice-of-life narrative and it definitely succeeds. It is not intended to be epic storytelling. It is meant to gently share a certain time and place: a time when a girl is becoming a woman and must face life and find her way. So, to end the story just as Lily is beginning a career in the comics industry is a fitting place to say goodbye. And, as if to underscore the fact that this is for younger readers, Robbins includes a series of short supplementary material on concentration camps, internment camps, high tea, English currency, Queen Wilhelmina, the Holland-America Line and Horn and Hardart automats.

Women in Comics panel discussion hosted by ComixPlex
This brings us back to Lily Renée celebrating her 100th birthday in 2021. There will be a panel discussion celebrating Lily Renée and Women in Comics that you’ll want to check out. Just go over to ComixPlex to get more details and to register.

Portrait of Lily Renee by Jennifer Daydreamer
And, by the way, as cartoonists, my partner, Jennifer Daydreamer, and I were notified about Lily’s upcoming birthday and we sent a birthday card. It is trailblazers like Lily who have shown the way. Above is Jennifer’s portrait of Lily in her youth, around the time she would have been working for Fiction House comics.











































Paul Buhle on Comics: Lafler at Large
Steve Lafler’s 1956: Sweet Sweet Little Ramona
Stephen Beaupre and Steve Lafler’s 40 Hour Man
1956: Sweet Sweet Little Ramona. By Steve Lafler. Cat Head Comics, 2020. $9.95.
40 Hour Man. By Stephen Beaupre and Steve Lafler. Manx Media, 2006. $18.00
Guest Review by Paul Buhle
Steve Lafler’s themes and art work take us back, at least, to the Alt-comics of the 1980s-90s but in form and content, back further still. He’s an original, by any standard, whose inspiratino hails to the glory era of the Underground Comix and the downslide that followed and followed and followed. Not entirely unlike Peter Kuper, Lafler got himself and family to Oaxaca, Mexico, for years at a time, using local influences and themes for his volume Lucha Bruja.
He has offered us helpful information about an earlier influence, explaining not only 1956 but an earlier, out of print whopper Bughouse (issued also as a set of three volumes) on the lives of jazz musicians, depicted most curiously as insects of various kinds. Lafler’s father, a garment center buyer of the 1940s-50s, swam metaphorically in a world of hard-selling and mostly Jewish middle-men, hustling between manufacturers and buyers. Noir screenwiter Abraham Lincoln Polonsky captured them perfectly in the film I Can Get It For You Wholesale (1951), more recently revisited as the husband of the lead character of streamed television’s “The Marvelous Mrs Maisel.”
Sweet Ramona!
Never mind. In Lafler’s reconstructed world, a prime interest, bording upon obsession, is the jazz of Manhattan’s 52nd St, then at its apex, and the hipsters who hung out there, interacting with the salesman. Dizzy Gilespie, Thelonious Monk and so many other marvelous musicians could be heard on any given night, and among them, players who would jam for hours after closing at practially any location. The multiracial hangers-on, Latina or Black, work the angles, mainly providing a portion of the sex trade while taking in the music. In this case, the Ramona in question is also Ramon. They get into trouble and get out again, as much as possible in this 54pp, with more to come in later installments.
Does it have the feeling of the real thing? Yes, at least metaphorically so, within the natural limits. The businessmen seem less cut-throat and lacking the New York, Yiddish-heavy accents of the more colorful part of the trade, but so what? It’s Lafler’s version. His hipsters are likewise his own creation, but not far from what we can learn from scholarship of the time and place.
The typical mindless office meeting.
I am more drawn to 40 Hour Man, for which he supplied only the illustrations. The writer notes his debt to Harvey Pekar, a debt both fascinating and curious. A collaborator of mine during the final decade of his life, Harvey had a unique approach to almost everything. He made daily existence in a heavily ethnic, most declining blue collar city seem entirely real, from job to home life. But it should be noted that Harvey’s 35 years as a file clerk at the VA hospital gave him a centering, stabilizing place in life. He was a good file clerk and proud of it. Our protagonist in 40 Hour Man is the opposite.
Here we have a steady romp from one bad job to another, always at about the minimum wage, in the neoliberal American economy of the 1980s-90s. Alienation is the name of the game, and if 1950s writers introduced the idea to the public (Karl Marx had written about it in his youthful 1944 manuscripts), our protagonist is living it day by day and hour by hour. He is no struggling proletarian with a vision of workers’ triumph over capitalism. He just wants to get along while doing as little as possible, and the jobs encourage, even demand, such a response. He also wants to drink and get high, something easier to achieve by moving from job to job, sometimes leaving, jsut as often getting fired.
His adventures fascinate, but what fascinates more is the bullshit character of the jobs and the management that appears almost as lost as the protagonist. Like the sometime higher-level employees of the popular British comedy “The IT Crowd,” they sit at their desks, sometimes give or accept “directives,” and also try to get through the day, nevertheless setting themselves off notably from the proles who have no desks and mainly move product from shipping floor to transport.
Sometimes the protagonist has rather more stimulating work, like clerking at a record store or even playing intern in a local radio station. No job looks like it will last, and none do. Our hero has no real aspiration beyond getting through the day or week, and this goes on until he meets the fictive and real woman of his life. By the end of the book, he seems to have removed himself from the Karmic Work Cycle, and we don’t need to know how.
The joy of this book is more visual than literary, although both are appealing. Lafler seems to me at his peak in adapting his comic drawing to the text. The antic ambles could be traced back to Abbott and Costello or Laurel and Hardy, and for that matter Charlie Chaplin, to name only a few movie heroes. Everything that can happen more or less does happen, although the update has more drugs and alcohol than hardly ever allowed in film until the age of the screw-up The Cable Guy.
Paul Buhle
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