Upcoming 1/6/2010

2010 hits the ground running, at least in ComicList terms. I hope you got cash for Christmas or are fit enough to supplement your income by shoveling the driveways of neighbors.

It’s been available in English for a few years, but that doesn’t stop me from making the hardcover collector’s edition of Fumiyo Kouno’s glorious Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms (Last Gasp) my pick of the week. In my opinion, this is still one of the finest comics from Japan ever to be licensed. Don’t believe me? Check out reviews from Lorena (i ♥ manga) Nava Ruggero and Kate (The Manga Critic) Dacey.

I only know what Drawn & Quarterly tells me about Imiri Sakabashira’s The Box Man, but I do know that they’ve got excellent taste in comics from Japan (and everywhere else). What does the publisher promise? An “absurdist tale in a seamless tapestry constructed of elements as seemingly disparate as Japanese folklore, pop culture, and surrealism. Within these panels, it becomes difficult to distinguish between the animate and the inanimate, the real and the imagined, a tension that adds a layer of complexity to this near-wordless psychedelic travelogue.”

Quick, something a little more undemanding! CMX to the likely rescue! They debut The World I Create, written and illustrated by Ayami Kazama. It’s about students with the ability to create virtual realities, and it looks kind of charming.

I was crazy about godly pantheons as a kid, particularly the Greek. It never translated into a particular love for comics versions of characters like Hercules, but I was always fascinated, probably because the mythology was so much like a soap opera with extra smiting. As I really admired George O’Connor’s abilities as a cartoonist in Journey into Mohawk Country as well, I’ll definitely give First Second’s Zeus: King of the Gods a good long look.

I’m apparently not supposed to call them “pamphlets” any more, though I thought that was the preferred term over “floppies.” “Flimsies” it is. There are two such publications out this week that show much promise: the fourth issue of Brandon Graham’s King City (Image) and the second issue of Stumptown (Oni), written by Greg Rucka, illustrated by Matthew Southworth, and colored by Lee Loughridge. Thanks again for making my browser crash, Image.

Now, for the costliest portion of our program: the new shôjo, which I will simply list in alphabetical order because there’s so much of it:

Happy Café vol. 1, written and illustrated by Kou Matsuzuki, Tokyopop: I love romantic comedies set in restaurants, so I’ll certainly pick this up at some point.

Nana vol. 20, written and illustrated by Ai Yazawa, Viz: More awesome rock-and-roll drama.

Natsume’s Book of Friends vol. 1, written and illustrated by Yuki Midorikawa: I thought this supernatural series got off to a strong start.

Sand Chronicles vol. 7, written and illustrated by Hinako Akihara: Oh, the beautiful ache of growing up.

V.B. Rose vol. 7, written and illustrated by Banri Hidaka, Tokyopop: Awesome stuff about wedding dress designers and their impulsive apprentice.

So what looks good to you?

Update: I forgot to mention this one, but Marvel does a really quick turnaround on producing a trade paperback of its Marvel Divas mini-series, written by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and illustrated by Tonci Zonjic. I enjoyed it very much in flimsy form, though I’m sad to see that they apparently use that hideous J. Scott Campbell cover for the collection. You’ll understand if I don’t illustrate this paragraph with a thumbnail, won’t you?

Previews review November 2009

There aren’t very many debuts in the November 2009 Previews catalog, but there are plenty of new volumes of excellent ongoing series. Let’s start with the new arrivals, though:

Dark Horse releases Okimono Kimoni, written and illustrated by Mokona with assistance from the rest of CLAMP. “a fun and lavishly illustrated book full of drawings and illustrations, interviews (including an interview with Ami of the J-pop duo Puffy AmiYumi!), and even short manga stories from the CLAMP artists.” So that’s your “eye-popping-ly pretty” alert for the month. (Page 43.)

I like Greek Mythology, and I thought George O’Connor’s Journey Into Mohawk Country had a lot of strong points. So I’ll definitely give O’Connor’s Olympians Volume 1: Zeus, King of the Gods (First Second) a look. “In OLYMPIANS, O’Connor draws from primary documents to reconstruct and retell classic Greek myths. But these stories aren’t sedate, scholarly works. They’re action-packed, fast-paced, high-drama adventures, with monsters, romance, and not a few huge explosions.” (Page 232.)

Alice in the Country of Hearts (Tokyopop), written by QuinRose and illustrated by Hoshino Soumei (Tokyopop) is triggering my “weird but crack-y” sensors: “Alice, who has fallen asleep in her garden, wakes up to find a white rabbit wearing clothes?! The rabbit forcefully drags Alice into the rabbit hole, where he turns into a young man with rabbit ears and leads her into a frightful world where the fairytale-like citizens wield dangerous weapons for an insidious cause… Unable to return home, will she be able to find happiness in a world full of danger and beautiful young men?” (Page 263.)

I can’t say that Mohiro Kitoh’s Bokurano: Ours is my favorite title in Viz’s SIGIKKI initiative, or even in the top five, but I’m always glad to see these titles see print, since it reassures me that the ones I really enjoy will follow sooner or later. “One summer, fifteen kids innocently wander into a nearby seaside cave. There they meet a strange man who invites them to play an exciting new video game. This game, he explains, pits one lone giant robot against a horde of alien invaders. To play the game, all they have to do is sign a simple contract. The game stops being fun when the kids find out the true purpose of their pact.” (Page 273.)

And now for the new volumes and new editions:

Black Jack vol. 9, written and illustrated by Osamu Tezuka, Vertical. (Page 272.)

Little Nothings Volume 3: Uneasy Happiness, written and illustrated by Lewis Trondheim, NBM. (Page 249.)

Sayonara Zetsubou-Sensei vol. 5, written and illustrated by Koji Kumeta, Del Rey. (Page 222)

Swan vol. 15, written and illustrated by Kyoko Aryoshi, CMX. (Page 119.)

Hardcover edition of Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms, written and illustrated by Fumiyo Kouno, Last Gasp. (Page 248)

I want them all

I just got back from the BBC-CW production of Harry Potter and the Awkward Silences, and I’m so glad Viz left something in my in-box to cheer me up, because dude…

Anyway, here’s the joyous press release:

VIZ MEDIA PARTNERS WITH JAPAN’S IKKI MAGAZINE TO LAUNCH SIGIKKI.COM, AN ONLINE MANGA WEBSITE TO PRESENT A DIVERSE COLLECTION OF TITLES ACCLAIMED FOR CREATIVE QUALITY

Innovative Online Destination Pushes Boundaries Of Manga With New Content Available Each Month For Free

San Francisco, CA, JULY 15, 2009 – VIZ Media, LLC (VIZ Media), one of the entertainment industry’s most innovative and comprehensive publishing, animation and licensing companies, has announced the full launch of its new SIGIKKI website, which represents a bold new partnership between the company’s VIZ SIGNATURE imprint and IKKI, a monthly magazine published in Japan since 2003 that has established itself as the home of some of the most innovative, bold, and compelling titles in the world of contemporary manga.

Located at www.sigikki.com, this groundbreaking online manga destination will present a broad range of seinen manga to audiences in North America. From action to comedy to drama, slice-of-life stories to surrealist fantasies, the uniting themes these works share are an uncommon emphasis on creative quality and on pushing the boundaries of the manga norm.

Earlier in May, the SIGIKKI site posted the first chapter of CHILDREN OF THE SEA by Daisuke Igarashi, with Volume 2 currently being serialized on the site. Starting this month, new chapters from half a dozen manga series will be offered for viewing online in their entirety – FOR FREE. After a particular volume completes its online serialization, that edition will be published as a VIZ Signature graphic novel (subject to reader demand). Additional content such as creator interviews, feature articles, news, and free downloads will also be posted on the website each month.

“We are very excited to formally launch our new SIGIKKI website in partnership with IKKI magazine,” says Shie Lundberg, Sr. Director, Strategy and Business Development, VIZ Media. “The convenience of web accessibility combined with some of the most compelling and diverse content manga will allow fans to sample a range of acclaimed new titles each month, for free. As these series begin to develop their own domestic following, audiences can then look forward to the eventual publication of these titles with the high quality VIZ SIGNATURE presentation befitting manga of this caliber.”

On July 23rd the SIGIKKI site will debut Bokurano: OURS, by Mohiro Kitoh; Dorohedoro, by Q Hayashida; Saturn Apartments, by Hisae Iwaoka; and I’ll Give It My All…Tomorrow, by Shunju Aono. These titles will be quickly followed on July 30th with the opening chapters of Kingyo Used Books, by Seimu Yoshizaki; House of Five Leaves, by Natsume Ono; Afterschool Charisma, by Kumiko Suekane; and Tokyo Flow Chart, by Eiji Miruno.

Manga Summaries Follow Below:

From the stack: Disappearance Diary

I’m not quite sure where I got my predisposition against autobiographical comics, as I’ve enjoyed most of the ones I’ve read. But somewhere in my brain lurks the suspicion that the ones I haven’t read are littered with self-aggrandizing self-indulgence and cartoonists turning an unreturned text message into tragedy.

If I’m that anxious about autobiographical comics created by people who don’t really have that much to complain about, imagine my reluctance to dive into Hideo Azuma’s Disappearance Diary, due from Fanfare/Ponent Mon in the late summer of this year. It’s a detailed account of the manga-ka’s bouts with homelessness, abandonment of all responsibility, and alcoholism. Would this be a warts-and-all confessional where the reader is invited to admire how much character the warts actually give an otherwise undistinguished countenance?

Surprisingly, Disappearance Diary is one of the most cheerful portrayals of dispossession and substance abuse you’re ever likely to encounter. Azuma focuses on three periods in his life. In the first, he abandons a family and successful career and becomes homeless, collecting partially smoked cigarettes off the sidewalk and food from the trash. In the second, he abandons family and career again to become a pipe fitter for a gas company. In the third, he’s committed to a psychiatric hospital for treatment of his profound, life-threatening alcoholism.

It seems inconceivable that the mere facts of the book aren’t enough to render Azuma utterly unsympathetic. I think it’s the fact that Azuma never tries to justify his actions; he just portrays them. The book is very much a diary, skirting the shape of dramatic arcs in favor of an anecdotal approach. Azuma figures out how to build a stove out of trash. He deals with irritating co-workers at the gas company. He draws quick sketches of the other oddballs in the alcoholics’ ward.

The book’s absence of narrative arc works very much in its favor. I think that any attempt on Azuma’s part to cast his disappearances as some kind of protagonist’s journey would have failed to some degree, probably disastrously. In portraying them via a series of off-handed observations, Azuma has largely spared the reader (or at least this one) the chore of judging his behavior. Since he never apologizes, there’s no onus to forgive. The reader just travels along with him through experiences that are mundane, unexpected, and distressing.

I never quite reached the point of chuckling, “Oh, Azuma, you scamp,” but I found myself coming uncomfortably close. Part of this is undoubtedly due to his crisp cartooning and cherubic character designs. It has the aesthetic qualities of a charmingly conceived comic strip, along with some of the same rhythms. Chapters are short and focused in comic-strip (and diary) fashion, and the book bustles along from event to observation.

For as much of a prig as I can be about the behavior and morality of fictional characters, I found myself unexpectedly complicit with the Azuma portrayed in Disappearance Diary. I certainly can’t support the choices that yielded these experiences, but I got quite a bit of reading pleasure out of watching Azuma chronicle them. Perhaps he viewed his failures as such a given that it would have been redundant to dwell on them. Perhaps he really isn’t contrite in the least.

Whatever the rationale behind it, the decision yielded an immensely readable comic. The counterpoint between style and content is absorbing enough on its own, and Azuma’s blunt-but-coy choices never fail to engage.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher, with special thanks to Deb Aoki at About.Com.)

But if I did…

I won’t be attending the San Diego Comic-Con this year. Let’s face it. I probably won’t be attending it any year. I’m extremely reluctant to fly anywhere, for a number of reasons. (I’m not afraid of the experience. I’m just ceaselessly irritated by almost every aspect of it.) And I can’t quite picture myself getting on a plane specifically to attend a comic convention. I’ll drive to one, or better still, take a train, but neither of those options is really practical when your starting point is West Virginia and your destination is Southern California.

A dislike of being herded and anxiety over my carbon footprint don’t necessarily constitute a condemnation of the con itself, and if I were to go, I’d find plenty of interesting panels to occupy my time. So here’s what I wouldn’t want to miss:

From the stack: First in Space

Sad animal stories are my undoing. I can’t be in the room when a certain tenor of music or tone of narration kicks in on Animal Planet. I can watch dozens of expendable humans fall in the face of fictional mayhem, but damn it, if that loyal dog or cat doesn’t make it to the end of the movie or the last chapter of the novel, the book or movie is a wash.

So I viewed the imminent arrival of James Vining’s First in Space (Oni) with some trepidation. It has a fascinating premise – all about the chimpanzees sent into space to pave the way for NASA astronauts. But the prospect of a tale of animals being shot into space to further the curiosity and ambition of humans made me anxious.

I’m glad Oni sent me a preview copy, because Vining’s restrained, intelligent approach to the material gives it balance and sensitivity. The portrayal of chimpanzee Ham and the people who train him poses difficult questions, but Vining generally refrains from answering them.

The approach is similar to that used by George O’Connor in Journey into Mohawk Country (First Second), meticulously researching and documenting historical events. Like O’Connor, Vining barely imposes on the historical narrative, but Vining really doesn’t need to. It’s pretty much a “duh” statement to suggest that space chimps are naturally more dramatic than Dutch fur traders, and Vining’s editing of Ham’s story is funny, sad, suspenseful, and thought-provoking.

I think both Journey and First in Space could function similarly as teaching tools as well. Both provide snapshots of history and employ imaginative means of retelling it. First in Space has the added advantage of being a fine, mostly even-handed starting point for discussion and debate about the use of animals as research subjects.

And like O’Connor, Vining (who was awarded a grant from the Xeric Foundation) is a real find. His cartooning style is clean, lively and precise in its emotional effect. The material could lend itself to shameless heartstring tugging and Disney-esque anthropomorphism, but Vining plays it straight for the most part. He doesn’t push because, again, he doesn’t need to.

I’ll never be first in line for entertainments about animals in peril. It’s just not what I look for when I open a comic or novel or turn on a television. But First in Space avoids the cheap manipulations endemic to that category, simply telling a fascinating story and with sincerity and intelligence.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher. First in Space ships on April 25.)

Soap-er-heroes

I love Tom Spurgeon’s run-down of the super-heroic episode of Guiding Light and wish there was a similar look at the comic from a fan of the soap. As someone whose been an excessively dedicated fan of both soaps and spandex, I’ve always thought there were a lot of similarities between the two.

1. A shared universe of a repertory company of characters that can be put into service of a variety of stories. The citizens of Pine Valley and Springfield really aren’t all that different from the denizens of the Marvel or DC universes. While relationships are the general driver in soaps, your average daytime ingénue can reasonably expect to be thrown into stories centered around crime, health issues, law, politics, the corporate world, the supernatural, or what have you. As with Spider-Man or Wonder Woman, the consistent element is (hopefully) the character you accompany as opposed to the specifics of the plot.
2. A subsequent tendency for the audience to wonder just how so much can happen to one person. Admittedly, it’s easier to reconcile in comics just because of the ground rules. But if you count the times that Erica Kane has been married, kidnapped, drastically changed careers, discovered secret offspring, been accused of murder, been a target of murder, etc., the average super-hero might consider their lot rather quiet in comparison.
3. Dead doesn’t always mean dead. There’s a revolving door to the afterlife in daytime dramas, too, and fans don’t seem to take it any more seriously than devoted Marvel or DC readers. From my days on soap message boards, reaction to a character’s demise almost always included some speculation on how (and when) it would be undone (the “closed casket” theory). While it’s usually the baddies who seem to have a round-trip ticket from the great beyond, I remember hearing about a character on As the World Turns who was killed, with her head removed and shrunk after death, who later returned to town fit as a fiddle.
4. It’s not easy being a woman. Both soaps and super-hero comics make uncomfortable use of rape as a plot development. In comics, it’s troubling because the victim is largely secondary to the experience; it matters more because of how the men around her respond. In soaps, it’s usually troubling because of its function as a redemptive event for the victim. The formula generally involved an interesting bad-girl character played by a popular actress. To move the character into a more heroic framework and generate audience sympathy, the writers would craft a story where the character is brutally victimized, creating a clear break between the character’s function as a romantic spoiler to one as a heroine. A smaller subcategory in soaps is when rape (or more frequently stalking) would result in romance between the victim and attacker. In this case, chemistry between the actors would lead the powers that be to reconsider the dynamic between their characters to capitalize on a popular pairing. General Hospital’s Luke and Laura is the premier example of this.
5. Shifting creators. Just as a familiar property like the Avengers can take a long journey of creative stewardship from Stan Lee to Steve Englehart to Kurt Busiek to Brian Michael Bendis, soap operas cycle through a similarly closed set of executive producers and writers, some of whom are viewed with a virulent distaste that would make even Chuck Austen blanch in sympathy. In my experience, the Chuck Austens of the soap opera world are soap-hopping head writer Megan McTavish and executive producer Jill Faren Phelps, but the roster is always growing. Along the same lines, a single character can be played by several different performers over the course of the character’s “life.” So it’s rather like seeing Spider-Man being drawn by a number of different artists, with subsequent modulations in character. (Of course, several different actors don’t generally play the same characters at the same time.)
6. Reverence for the pioneers. If super-hero comics have Lee, Jack Kirby, and other defining creative voices, soaps have their own set of revered ground-breakers. And yes, fans do often suggest that these pioneers (like Agnes Nixon and Doug Marland) would tear out their hair if they could see what was being done with their creations, even if they’re still alive and can probably see very well what’s being done.
7. A big bust. For super-hero comics, it was the speculator era. For soap operas, I believe it was O.J. Simpson. Coverage of Simpson’s trial led to what seemed like months of preemptions, which led a significant chunk of the soap opera audience to find alternative forms of entertainment. Many of those fans have never returned, and the audience levels have never regained their pre-O.J. levels.
8. Crossovers. Characters do move from soap to soap. After the cancellation of Another World, several cast members moved to another Procter and Gamble property, As the World Turns. Characters rack up frequent-flyer miles between The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful, as both are produced and were created by the same powers that be. ABC, which produces its own soap line-up, has staged major events where characters from, say, All My Children show up on One Life to Live, and these visits have significant consequences on ongoing stories running on the show they visit. This was about as popular with fans as you might expect.
9. “It’s only…” This is more a message board phenomenon, but it’s virtually identical between the two fandoms. If there’s a turn of events that leads to audience outrage (generally springing from mangled continuity, an ill-conceived storytelling stunt, or a radical reivision of a long-standing character), someone inevitably shows up to try and deflate the reaction with the ever-unpopular “It’s only a soap opera” or “a comic” argument. And saying something along those lines isn’t ever welcome in a category-specific forum.
10. A stereotyped fan base. I really don’t have to explain this one, do I?
11. Quality = cancellation. The phenomenon is more frequent in super-hero comics, because it’s more of an effort and expense to launch a new soap opera than a comic, but no daytime drama is held in as much esteem as the ones that aren’t on the air any more. Just as fans mourn brilliant-but-axed comics like Chase and Young Heroes in Love, you won’t have to search hard to find a soap fan who insists that no show will ever be as good as warped, experimental Santa Barbara was in its prime. (In fact, you won’t have to search any farther than me to find a person who’ll say that.)

From the stack: JOURNEY INTO MOHAWK COUNTRY

There are times when a terrific idea for a graphic novel doesn’t result in a terrific comic. I think Journey into Mohawk Country (First Second Books) is one of those instances, though the book has a lot going for it.

George O’Connor has illustrated a journal written by Harmen Meyndertsz Van den Bogaert, a Dutch trader setting off from Fort Orange (now Albany, N.Y.) into Iroquois territory. Van den Bogaert and his two companions are on something of a goodwill mission, hoping to expand fur trade with the Iroquois and gather information on French expansion into the region.

I love the concept behind the book – translating a primary historical source into a contemporary visual format. Obviously it’s not the only current project to take this approach, and it certainly isn’t the one with the highest profile. But it is an intriguing addition to the roster of ways graphic novel creators are re-conceiving non-fiction content.

I’m a big fan of books in this category. I love the energy and goofy wit of the Action Philosophers books (Evil Twin). The morbid precision of Rick Geary’s Treasury of Victorian Murder series is always good, shivery company. Ande Parks and Chris Samnee were audacious with Capote in Kansas, their graphic novelization of the creation of a non-fiction novel. And Jim Ottaviani assembled a who’s who of creators for Dignifying Science to tell the stories of groundbreaking women scientists.

But with Journey into Mohawk Country, my interest in the concept outweighs my interest in the content. Van de Bogaert did not seem to be writing for posterity, providing instead a somewhat dry recounting of the events of his travels. Pieces like this – letters, legers, maps, journals – contribute to the tapestry of history, but the interest for me is their context, or what they say about a point in time.

O’Connor resists the urge to contextualize Van de Bogaert’s experiences, which is both admirable and problematic. He’s respecting his source material, contributing only slight embroideries to Van de Bogaert’s account in the form of little grace notes of feeling. But that respect also leaves the narrative shapeless. It’s odd to be levying criticisms at a writer who never intended for his words to be purposed in this particular way, but that’s the conundrum of the book.

I like O’Connor’s illustrations, which are generally lively and expressive. They’re not so exaggerated or stylized that they contradict the source material, nor are they so static that they seem like illustrations accompanying a text. They create a solid sense of place, and O’Connor doesn’t entirely resist the urge to indulge in some visual flights of fancy. (I did find myself distracted by one bit character design, though it could just be me. I think the illustrated Van de Bogaert bears an uncanny resemblance to Zonker Harris.)

Colors by Hilary Sycamore serve the book well. She captures the wintry palette of the countryside and the fireside glow of the Mohawk communities. It runs towards the monochromatic at times, but that might reflect the reluctance to embroider on the reality being portrayed. As with all First Second books, Journey into Mohawk Country is beautifully designed.

In the final analysis, I’m of two minds about the book. The narrative doesn’t really engage me, but I want to see more books in this vein based on more gripping source material. As an individual graphic novel, I think Journey into Mohawk Country has tremendous potential value as an educational tool. Not only does it provide a specific and personal window into a period of history, it’s an exciting example of imaginative ways to communicate history.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.)

Random thoughts

What’s that you say? I can enjoy another comic about the settlement of North America? Why, thank you! This time around, it’s George O’Connor’s Journey into Mohawk Country from First Second, profiled in the latest Publishers Weekly Comics Week. It sounds like the perfect companion reading for Scott Chantler’s excellent Northwest Passage from Oni. (I wonder if Oni is planning an omnibus edition for after the three-volume series concludes this month? That would be a very library-friendly gesture.)

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Greg McElhatton has a review of Ueda Hajime’s Q-Ko-Chan: The Earth Invader Girl (Del Rey) up at iComics.com. I picked this book up this week and found it to be visually arresting but a little hard to follow. It looks amazing, and the character design is stunning. It’s also only two volumes long, so I’ll definitely give it a closer read after I plow through some of the backlog of books that are sitting there in a pile and judging me.

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I should have learned by now not to assume that even great comic shops will have precisely what I want all the time. I had planned to do a lot of shopping at Alternative Reality during a recent trip to Las Vegas, but all of the books on my list (the first issue of the new Castle Waiting series from Linda Medley and Get a Life from Drawn and Quarterly, among others) were sold out. So I guess I have good taste and bad timing.

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The main reason behind the Vegas jaunt was to see Cirque du Soleil’s KÀ at the MGM Grand. It was amazing, but I was surprised to be bothered by some of the same issues of design versus functionality that I’ve found with some publishers’ web sites. It’s a masterpiece of technical theatre, with this phenomenal turntable that goes in every conceivable direction, but the flourishes eventually overwhelm the narrative completely. It’s too bad, because the story started extremely well. Still, if you’re a fan of “we did that because we could” showmanship, go for it. (After looking through the gift shop and laughing at the prices, we decided that Cirque is probably working on a sequel called CHÏNG.)

But if you’re in Vegas and want to feed a Cirque jones, I’d recommend Mystère at Treasure Island. If you want to feed a Cirque jones and don’t feel like dealing with the Vegas fracas (and who could blame you?), just wait until Quidam comes to a city near you. It’s still my favorite of their productions.

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If you’re in Vegas, are a Top Chef fan, and feel like sampling some of Tom Colicchio’s cooking, I’d recommend stopping by ‘wichcraft at the MGM Grand. The sandwiches are great, and the prices are pretty reasonable for celebrity chef casino food. (I’d love to have the kind of money to be a shameless, fame-whoring foodie in Las Vegas, but who can afford it?)

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My approach to gambling in Las Vegas is to spend as little money as possible for the longest possible period of time. I never assume I’m going to win anything beyond the cost of a cup of coffee. The best spot for that kind of play was Sam’s Town, which is way off the Strip, but that only makes it more appealing to me. If we ever go back, we might just have to stay there, as it’s a lot cheaper, seems friendlier than most of the mid-range Strip options, and has undergone a serious renovation in the last few years.

From the stack: DEOGRATIAS: A Tale of Rwanda

Jean-Philippe Stassen’s Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (:01 Books) is a very small story about a gaping wound in human history. Stassen follows an utterly average person through extraordinarily horrifying circumstances.

Stassen centers his story on Deogratias, a young Hutu. We see him before the genocide – prankish but basically decent beneath his bluster – and after – utterly shattered, almost feral. Past and present intersect, as Deogratias remembers more peaceful times with agonizing clarity.

He had friends, two Tutsi sisters — scholarly, spirited Benina and gentle, devout Apollinaria. He did odd jobs for the Belgian clergymen who were kind to him. He had a kid’s preoccupations – sex, beer, and talking big. He isn’t particularly noble or strong, but he rejects the worst of the ambient, anti-Tutsi racism that pervades the classroom, the radio waves, and really every aspect of daily life.

But that was Deogratias then, before many Hutus seized an opportunity to slaughter every Tutsi they could. Now, years later, he wanders the streets filthy and ragged, begging for food Urwagwa, the local beer. People from those appalling days of genocide are drifting back into Rwanda, sparking a new round of tragedy that’s smaller in scale but no less devastating.

Stassen also populates the book with competing perspectives. Venetia, Benina and Apollinaria’s mother, has been reduced to trading sex for favors to secure a better life for her daughters. In light of the restrictions of the culture, her choices have real moral force. Benina, the chief beneficiary of Venetia’s efforts, is torn between the opportunities afforded by her education and simmering outrage at the racial constructs that govern her life (and the condescension of the white Europeans she works for). Augustine is a highly educated member of a third ethnic group, the Twa, who has found he can make more money as a groundskeeper for those Europeans than he can by using his numerous academic degrees. Everyone is getting by as best they can in a society where a legacy of artificial differences makes it extraordinarily difficult. (Translator Alexis Siegel provides a well-written introduction covering Rwanda’s turbulent history.)

Stassen’s visuals are impressive. His script jumps through time, and the illustrations support that perfectly. Characters age credibly and organically, placing the individual sequences along the timeline of the story while creating investment in their journeys. He also renders Deogratias’s deteriorating mental state with care and imagination. His color work is very effective in establishing shifts in mood. Night and shadow take on different meanings, and even a sky full of stars can be menacing. Still, given the sensationalistic potential of the material, Stassen’s approach is ultimately very restrained. He never resorts to gore, letting the reader’s imagination fill in those horrible blanks.

Stassen’s aim seems to be understanding. He doesn’t want you to forgive people like Deogratias who were drawn into the tide of violence. Even Brother Philip, the jovial Belgian priest, can’t seem to manage that. But you can get inside those people and see events from their perspective.

Often, when artists approach these scarring moments of human history, they do so from the perspective of the heroic member of the majority who goes against the destructive tide of public sentiment to protect and rescue the victimized minority. Those stories are instructive and uplifting, but I think Stassen’s approach has a chilling value of its own.

(This review was based on a complimentary copy provided by :01 Books. Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda will be released in May.)