DC Comics’ New 52 – Current Pull List

Last Wednesday marked the 3/4 mark of DC Comics’ New 52 Initiative, with their re-launching of 52 all-new issue one comic books introducing both brand new and iconic characters to their line of monthly ongoings.

There’s be debate, there’s been controversy, there’s been a substantial amount of buzz regarding DC’s new venture. For a niche market like comic book fans, this is bigger than World War Three (I hope this is an exaggeration). For newbies to the market of comic books, this is a great start for them to get on, and for others to get the word out.

But they question remains, for a creative medium that I’m hope isn’t nearing its end in the coming future, was it a success?

To fork out four dollars every week to get twenty-five pages of fisticuffs and sequential art may seem like a dollish routine, but hell, lots of people do it. It’s the best way to support what comic book creators and audiences do and love.

So how I have helped? Well, let’s see.

Usually, recognition goes to the writer and both the pencillers + inkers, and the colorists (as represented below) as the combined art teams. Collaboration for the win!

Justice League #1, Written by Geoff Johns, Art by Jim Lee & Scott Bryant.

Action Comics #1, Written by Grant Morrison, Art by Rags Morales & Rick Bryant

Batman #1, Written by Scott Snyder, Art by Greg Capullo & Jonathan Glapion.

Batwoman #1, Written by J.H Williams III, Art by J.H Williams III & W. Haden Blackman.

Batgirl #1, Written by Gail Simone, Art by Ardian Siaf & Vincent Cifuentes.

Batwing #1, Written by Judd Winick, Art by Ben Oliver.

Green Lantern #1, Written by Geoff Johns, Art by Doug Manhke & Christian Alamy.

Green Lantern Corps #1, Written by Peter J. Tomasi, Art by Fernando Pesarin & Scott Hanna.

Animal Man #1, Written by Jeff Lemire, Art by Travel Foreman & Dan Green.

Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E #1, Written by Jeff Lemire, Art by Alberto Ponticelli.

Swamp Thing #1, Written by Scott Snyder, Art by Yanick Paquette.

Demon Knights #1, Written by Paul Cornell, Art by Diogenes Neves & Oclair Albert.

Resurrection Man #1, Written by Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning, Art by Fernando Dagnino.




I think all of them are first prints—the ones that matter at least I know are. Still on the hunt for Detective Comics and Wonder Woman, but I’m pretty sure they’re all sold out around the GTA, Toronto for sure since I’ve been to both Silver Snail and The Beguiling and coming up empty handed this week.

It started with Justice League and Flashpoint #5 at the start of the month, and now we’re three weeks in with most of DC’s new titles selling out in a day, if not sooner. Which is great for the industry, bad for me. Still, looks like all wheels are go on this initiative. And I’m still looking for grabs, so DC’s doing something right.

Going to do some more reviews on my grabs so far, but all-in-all, I’ve been careful with my grabs in making sure they’re worth it, all others I just download because I’m poor. All the Jeff Lemire (Animal Man, Frankenstein) and Scott Snyder (Batman, Swamp Thing) are probably going to be subscriptions from me.


Batwoman is a definite, you just can’t find that kind of art anywhere else. Both Green Lantern books are looking good, and GLC just has that ‘space epic’ feel I can depend on—I’d much prefer that over Legion Lost #1 or Legion of Superheroes #1 and their more closed-off and teen feel (but still looking forward to testing out Teen Titans #1 next week for my teen book fix).

So, there’s my proof. I’m a legit geek. I’m looking at you, Sheldon.
Don’t need some stupid quantum mathematics knowledge to get some geek gratification. Fuck laugh tracks, buy comics.

EPIC Sound Design of the Week

Audio production last year was an awesome course, save for the shitbag teacher that gave me and my buddy a 75 for the most horrifying soundscape our class has ever heard.

But I learned a few things, and I like how I can appreciate stuff like this now:

Diego Stocco - Music From A Dry Cleaner from Diego Stocco on Vimeo.

Good vibes.

[via dailywh.at]

StoryCorps–The Importance of Listening

I think I may have posted about this a while back, but it deserves readdressing because I’m really a sucker for these kinds of things.

Especially now, on the wake of 9/11, which personally doesn’t emotionally impact me that much at all, but you realize it’s important for a lot of Americans. My opinions aside, there really is no better way to recount or remember all the people who died there than to do it through something like this.

StoryCorps is a non-profit organization devoted to telling stories. Oral history of ordinary people from ordinary lives. Yet, they always seem to be able to capture something greater, and the audiences are always captured by them.

They’re sad, yes, but every story enriches the viewer’s life. I certainly get a better understanding of humility and humanity. It makes you feel good about yourself, and people as a whole.

Now, if these were international, it’d be a great way to raise awareness. StoryCorps in crisis zones in the Middle East, Palestine, parts of Africa, that would really make an impact.

These is the oral history of the ordinary, and yet, there’s always something amazing about discovering people’s lives. We relate, because we want to, because its necessary, because it’s instinctual.

The themes are always the same, and that shows you a lot about why StoryCorps exists, and why it needs to continue to exist to share stories about ordinary people.

We need it. Check them out on Wikipedia. Subscribe on YouTube. 

Everyone has a story, just takes the right person to listen to it.

Comic Reviews!: Animal Man, Batgirl, Swamp Thing

Hey, hey, hey, guess what? Reviews are coming back.
Yeah, they basically change with whatever I’m into at the moment, and I’ll admit I don’t usually review things unless for something else (ahem, WILDsound those eons ago), but god damn it, it’s new comics.

AND I LOVE ME SOME NEW COMICS. 

Might do some more movie/television/book reviews. Like always, read this blog with a grain of salt. Except for what’s below. Follow it to the letter.
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Every Wednesday in North America, in comic book stores everywhere, is comics release day. Like how movies are usually released on Fridays, comics have a particular day that publishers send their books out to stores to go on sale.
This Wednesday, out of the dozen or so comics that DC Comics released, I only got three (but now I definitely plan to get more). I’ll just cut to the chase. DC is re-launching 52 of their comic books this September with all-new Issue Ones.
Some big names released today, but I went on the fringes and got some that I always wanted to get into—which is the real point of this entire initiative.
BATGIRL #1

One of the two Batman titles releasing today, I decided to pick this one up because I’ve always wanted to see Gail Simone’s work on other titles like pre-launch Secret Six.

I never got around to it, which I regret, but the re-launch gives me a chance to sample some of her writing, which I’ll admit doesn’t astound me like it’s hyped up to be given what I see on forums, but it’s definitely up there on quality.

The internal dialogue is a big hitter with this one.
If you get comics and read them frequently, you realize how important internal dialogue is to characterization, especially in a solo title. Gail knows how to write women, and I don’t think it’s solely because she’s one of the rare lead writers that is female, I just think she gets the character of Batgirl. ‘Getting’ a character is a loaded term, but it’s a necessity for a writer to engage with the story they’re telling. And that’s happening in this one.

Barbara Gordon, aka. Batgirl, has been paralyzed for three years, as the continuity regarding her wheelchair escapades has been kept. Controversy prior to launch day regarding how her miraculous recovery has swept the web, and the big question—probably the final say on whether this issue one is worth it, is how Simone writes it (or ignores it) in the book.

I want you to read it for yourself, but if you’re a new reader, you need not worry, the information of her past is front and centre, and well composed into her characterization, visually and narratively.  The best part is, if you’re familiar with Barbara Gordon, it’s even better. Really intuitive way to keep her grounded in who she is, combined with essentially a completey new identity with his relaunch.

It was a good taste for me into Barbara Gordon as a character. She was done right in this issue. On the fence for a monthly pick-up, but a good start. And Simone leaves nothing under the table, which is expected of a writer of her capacity.

Check it out.

Forgot all about art; I’m writing this on a whim. Ardian Syaf makes it action-packed, poppy, and clean. Easy on the eyes, like it should be.

SWAMP THING #1

Been following this one closely since it was announced, and pretty hyped. The comics master/completely senile old man that is Alan Moore gave the green giant comic book fame, and the decision to re-launch him with Supes, Bats, and the rest, is a respectable decision (one Moore is cranky as usual about). Gives me a chance to finally get into Swamp Thing; again—something I’ve always wanted to do, that this re-launch lets me do.

I won’t summarize it for you, but basically it revolves around a botanist who died developing a flora-saving compound, and resurrected as a creature composed of plant matter with sentient thought, and the memories of this man. That was before this rewriting of origins. What struck me is that this starts off with Alec Holland, the man instead of the creature, and focuses on him in detail. The decision to bring Holland back to Swamp Thing stories (he was absent for most runs of prelaunch Swamp Thing) was a nice turn. It represents a true retracing of steps back to the core of the comic character and its mythology.

This is a comic that’s dialogue-heavy, but has a nice cameo interaction that, I think, connects it closely to the entire new DC Universe within these 52 comics. Really nice to see that Swamp Thing’s importance is represented in these interactions with big name characters.

This is all thanks to Scott Snyder, responsible for American Vampire—an award-winning series. In interviews he’s cited Moore’s run on the comic as a big influence, and if I read Alan Moore’s run (sadface), I bet I’d agree. The dialogue, while heavy, gives a lot of presence to Holland as a character, plus its exposition was a treat, since I never really understand what’s behind Swamp Thing—that’s a new reader standpoint.

From the art, I can gather the ‘dark’ side of the new DC pretty well from Yanick Paquette’s artwork. To me, I get a sense of the range of artistic styles throughout all these artists working on the 52 books. The villain reveal is a real treat, I can say its definitely dark, and quite literally, twisted visuals. It balances out with clean and bright colours, but when it does go deep into the supernatural, it delivers.

Not really any negatives, since I’m treading new territory, and it’s engaged me on a level that makes me really want to see where Alec Holland and his troubles with chlorokinesis go. Snyder immerses me with the dialogue, and Paquette drags me into the world with those swell visuals. Could definitely be a monthly pick-up.

Check it out.

ANIMAL MAN #1

Animal Man is one the other ‘Dark’ line of titles coming out of the new DC. And damn, did it hook me on this line. Probably the most hyped ‘fringe’-style book on the web, it did not disappoint anywhere, I don’t think.

Jeff Lemire is some new talent, coming straight out of Toronto for one thing, and his Sweet Tooth project, I hear is worth the endless reads. When it comes to Animal Man, shot from C-list status into the DC front-line by writer superstar Grant Morrison in the 80's, I had a feeling from the news and previews that Lemire was going to take this book to some crazy places, much like many think of the prelaunch Buddy Baker and his numerous adventures.

Within the first three pages, I was seeing some quality writing, and some striking, unique artwork by Travel Foreman. The way it starts out too, is unconventional to say the least, but for an Animal Man new reader, it worked very well. I’ll let you read for yourself when you pick it up, but it perfectly summarizes what I need to know in order to get with this book, and it did it in a way that seamlessly blends into the narrative. It engaged me right off the bat, and I got to know this character in one page.

From there, it’s easy pickings for Lemire. He knows Buddy Baker, and his writing shows it. It was naturalistic dialogue coming into my head easily, and by the time the action starts, the artwork by Foreman signifies a narrative change that the writing almost has to catch up with—like the naturalistic feel is leaving Buddy Baker’s life at that moment, and he as to deal with something pretty unnatural by the middle of the issue. You can clearly see it in the intricacies and technical details of Foreman’s art.

By far, this is my favourite of the three. If not only that it’s unlike any other superhero comic I’ve read in a while, it combines generic elements from horror and fantasy and just crazy stuff that’s even outside a cape comic’s norms—and that’s saying a lot—but it’s what you’d expect from the 'Dark’ titles of the New DC.

And that villain reveal, it gave me chills. Foreman’s artwork shines most here. Lemire’s carried the character the whole way, and plops him right in front of some twisted shit that puts the cherry on top. And the ending is like putting another cherry on top.

That’s two cherries. It caught me from the start, and dragged me into a story that I don’t think I can get out of. You start feeling a little of what Buddy Baker might be, and it gave me goosebumps. I hope it gives you some too. This is alternative/counter-culture/’contemporary-style’ comics given a new spotlight. Morrison should shake Jeff Lemire’s hand, because this comic is in good hands.
Definitely going to be following this awesome comic book. Check it out.
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Alright, that’s it for now. Three comics that were definitely worth picking up, which is a good thing because it lessens the blow of the cash I freely give to the comic book overlords. Not an addiction people, creative resource.

If I had bad reviews on a comic, then I’d regret buying them. And that sucks. So they’ll probably be good reviews. Sorry for the lack of variety.

Go to your local comic book store and ask about DC’s The New 52. Hell, ask about what’s happening with Marvel if you feel so inclined. And guess what, you can buy them online, and read them on your computer. No creepy fat guys accosting you.

Just buy some damn comics—the ones above, or any others that catch your eye.
Happy hunting.

[no, there probably won’t be posts about not-comics for a while.]

“Why Read Comic Books?”

A web column By Martyn Pedler, on Bookslut.

Sometime back around 2004, geeky Seth Cohen became the unlikely heartthrob of teen soap The O.C., relegating the traditionally dreamy Ryan Atwood to sidekick status. If I was forced at gunpoint to pick the exact moment that comic book reading lurched into the mainstream, this might be it.

In this post-Seth world, however, convincing someone to read a comic is more like getting them to try a new band than getting them to admit that “music” as a whole might be worthwhile. If you’ll forgive my apples-to-oranges comparisons and rah-rah cheerleading, here are some random reasons why I read comics.

Starting big: comics can do anything. (Cancer? Cured!) Without limitations like sets, makeup, or special effects, comic art encourages the transformation of subjective reality to objective reality. The art can feel like it’s coming directly from the artists’ sticky subconscious to the page. It’s also why the best horror comics always feel like nightmares; like drawings that require a child to be sent home early from school.

That’s because they feel less mediated, too, thanks to the illusion created by pencil, ink, and especially lettering by hand. Of course I know most comics are mass-produced, and yet that illusion remains -- the odd notion that what you’re holding could be the only and original copy, made just for you. (Even the most idiosyncratic novel is still obviously typeset, right?) Comic books are an especially intimate artform, and many autobiographical comics succeed by exploiting that sense of reading someone else’s diary.

I won’t begin to explain -- or, frankly, entirely understand -- the mechanics of how sequential art tells stories and make motion. Writer and editor Dennis O’Neill once wrote that “a comic book world is a world lit by a strobe light,” and how that hypothetical strobe is used varies wildly from artist to artist.

Exhibit A: the animal-like characters of Norwegian artist Jason. They don’t seem to move like other comic stars. His precise art seems to capture them in the most awkward moment between two events, showing them frozen, deadpan. Jason’s been compared to Buster Keaton -- high praise, but warranted. At one point in his chess-themed western Low Moon, someone’s so surprised their hat flies off their head, and yet it seems to hover in the air like a bemused UFO.

Exhibit B: Jack Kirby, the King of Comics. Writing on “why read comics” without mentioning him would be cause for revolt, as he’s responsible for much of the visual vocabulary of superhero comics to this day. His men and women are drawn in such energetic poses that they exude dots of extra ink -- the famous "Kirby Krackle" -- and I always imagine the simple act of standing like statues in each panel requires herculean effort. Tensing every augmented muscle, they stay frozen until the moment I look away, turn the page, and they leap back into action again.

(A quick, tangential rant about “motion comics.” More and more, comic companies are hoping to supplement sales by offering digital versions of their titles with limited animation and voice acting that sounds like a first take at best. They think it’s just adding a gimmick to an existing story, like, say, slapping 3D on an old film. What they don’t understand is that forcing this motion onto sequential art actually breaks something fundamental about comic book storytelling. It suggests a group of executives throwing a comic on the ground and poking at it with sticks. “Look!” they say, jabbing at the page. “It’s moving! It’s moving!”)

Returning, then, to my scheduled evangelism. Once thick comic collections are sitting on your shelf, it’s easy to forget that these stories were ever presented in any other way. I was surprised to hear that Daniel Clowes’s latest tale of misanthropy, Wilson, was his first true graphic novel -- everything else had first been serialized. Why buy individual issues when, more and more, everything is out in collected editions soon after? And sold in respectable bookshops? It’s not just the credibility of comics that’s made them more accessible; it’s this newfound ubiquity.

Focus too much on the package, rather than the content, of comic books makes me feel like one of those people who decries e-books by reducing reading to physical objects and waxing lyrical about how paper smells. (You’d swear they snort up every sentence like cocaine.) But I do believe design and narrative sit together more closely when it comes to comics. Adrian Tomine asked that his earliest Optic Nerve comics, once found in a fancy collection, could be reprinted as the photocopied mini-comics they were always meant to be. He explains why in the new introduction:

The format -- the very thing that tempted me in the first place -- seems too professional, too aggrandizing for the material. […] Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like there’s a different criteria that we apply to a little Xeroxed pamphlet versus a fancy-pants book, and in the translation from one iteration to the other, these comics of mine suffered.

Similarly, Jeffrey Brown’s heartbreaking novella, Every Girl Is the End of The World for Me, has just been collected in a larger book -- but it just won’t feel the same as the original version. Its scribbled pictures and shaky text sit in the palm of your hand. If the idea that a comic has been drawn just for you is an illusion, Jeffrey Brown’s so good at it that he could have his own Las Vegas magic show.

As comic book collections crept into those respectable bookshops, they were inevitably lumped together under the banner of graphic novels, no matter what sort of stories they might be. Autobiographical indies sit next to hysterical manga teens next to sequential art documentaries next to corporate-owned superheroes. As annoying as this might be, it accidentally highlights how comics possess unheard levels of generic bleeding. When a movie or TV show does a “western in space,” it’s a high-concept hybrid. When a comic book has frozen World War II soldiers, Norse gods, billionaire inventors, and gamma-powered monsters fighting side by side? That’s just business as usual.

Let me get my pom poms for the big finish. Ready? I love the strange split between stillness and motion, action and contemplation, that defines comic book reading for me. I love the inventive pages-as-puzzles techniques used by Chris Ware to illustrate angst in Jimmy Corrigan or that J. H. Williams employs for his spectacular action in the recent Batwoman-starring Detective Comics. I love the stylistic tornado of Grant Morrison’s conspiracy-fuelled series The Invisibles, and how it somehow made meaning out of its dozens artists using a dozen techniques.

I’ve run out of room to mention the pleasures of serial storytelling; the addictive fun of cliffhangers; or the sheer scope and dependable insanity of superhero stories. One last thing -- I love word balloons. When it comes to prose, I’m with Elmore Leonard. Almost any word used to describe dialogue delivery other than “said” makes me wince -- but the shifting shapes and sizes of word balloons are a wonderful thing. Growing, shrinking, dotted lines for whispers, icicles for dripping sarcasm. By combining the verbal and visual into something ridiculous, effective, and unique, word balloons serve as shorthand for comic books as a whole.

Right now, as I’m putting the final touches on this column (mostly involving kicking myself over all the books I promised myself I’d mention that didn’t make the cut) it’s August 28. It’s been declared the first annual Read Comics in Public Day:

Let strangers see you reading a piece of sequential art. Take to the streets. Be proud. If someone asks what you’re reading, say, "a comic book" (the phrase "graphic novel" is also acceptable, but let’s face it, it sort of defeats the whole purpose).

I’m for anything that generates sales for artists I admire, and it’s sweet to choose Jack Kirby’s birthday, too. But call me Pollyanna, call me naïve, call me blinded by Seth Cohen’s charms -- it feels about a decade too late for a rallying cry like “be proud.” The same could be said for everything I’ve written here. I can see the headlines now: “Biff! Kapow! Comic Books Worthwhile After All!”

Why read comics? As with all art, there’s only really one answer: why not?

Pretty much embodied everything everyone should take from reading a comic book. Wish I could write it as well as he does, but hell, I’m not a web columnist so whatever. Still, I think I did a pretty good job on my end. 

[via Bookslut]

EPIC Interdisciplinary Profession of the Week

Mountain Climber + Videographer + Documentarian =

On Assignment from renan ozturk on Vimeo.

Jellllyyyyyy. But not really. I’m physically not able to do anything near this intensive.

The payoff though—God damn, like no other.