Showing posts with label book review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book review. Show all posts

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Book Review: The Mysteries by Watterson and Kascht

I know both of the authors, Watterson better, so this is not an uninterested review. That said, I was there when they met.

The Mysteries, the new book from Watterson and Kascht exists partly due to a meeting between cartoonists brought together by Nick Galifianakis to work on The Art of Richard Thompson book. Kascht was asked to write a chapter on Richard's caricature, and met Bill at Richard's house. See a lovely video on that project here.

Overall, I wasn't sure what to make of this book. I'm still not, but I've just watched the creation video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=des... which helps me understand the mindsets of the two creators.

I have been surprised by the lack of buzz on the ground. The middle Tennessee Books-a-Million store I bought this in had it shelved in graphic novels. I think that it will eventually migrate to being a children's book. It's got the format of short text blocks and facing pictures, and it's a fable. I read it as a climate change fable, assuming that the mysteries are the natural world eventually interpreted through a scientific and industrial bent, until we reach the modern world.

The book isn't cartooning - the book is post-cartooning, it's what you do after you've reached the pinnacle of cartooning / caricature and are looking for something creatively new. This is exactly the type of thing you see in other cartoonists through the years - they turn to sculpture or painting, because they've said what they wanted to in comics. Daumier, Oliphant, Rube Goldberg, Bob Staake, Paul Conrad, and others turned to sculpture like Kascht; others to painting such as Jimmy Swinnerton, and like Watterson has tried pursuing at least 3 times (including Team Cul de Sac's donated painting and now this book).

That said, it's a minor book from two great artists. They made a video showing how they made the book, and how contentious it was to collaborate between them. The book stands on its own, but if they have to make a video explaining the book, then it doesn't work on one level, right? I'm glad they made it and maybe it'll break some creative block for both of them, but it's not going to be the most-cited work for either of them. Don't buy it looking for Calvin and Hobbes - buy it for its own merits, and to see what two crack cartoonists get up to when cartooning isn't enough for them anymore.

Friday, February 10, 2023

Book Review: Beaky Barnes: Egg on the Loose by David Ezra Stein

 by Claire Rhode

            Beaky Barnes: Egg on the Loose (Penguin Workshop, $18.99) is a delightful romp. David Ezra Stein has channeled the energy of early Saturday morning cartoons into a graphic novel for younger readers. Reading it reminded me of watching a Pink Panther cartoon, where nothing quite made sense, but the hijinks were top notch.

            I have to imagine that was the tone Stein was going for when he started the book with a cast of characters and then uses them in an advertisements section (don’t worry – unless you’re the sort of person who goes in for wild infomercials, you’re not likely to want to buy his glow-in-the-dark sunglasses model).

            The story itself starts with Inspector Cobb, the town health and safety inspector, attempting to eat an fried egg sandwich and losing the egg from it. Naturally, he goes to a nearby cafĂ© to get a new egg, where he threatens the owner with an inspection if an egg is not procured. This is where we meet Beaky, a giant chicken. She’s the tallest of the main characters, but she produces normal-sized eggs. This is never explained, but sometimes you don’t need explanations. Beaky Barnes takes too many detours to coherently describe the plot. A goldfish goes off to college and it somehow gets weirder, but it never loses its sense of joy or adventure. It can be easy for a book this wacky to lose sight of what actually matters – fun. Stein creates humorous, absurd scenarios and asks the reader to laugh along without taking anything too seriously.

        Some pros include:

·         -The art style. This is a deceptively simple book. It has a small color palette, and backgrounds are often left vague or are entirely non-existent, but each page balances itself well. It is always visually interesting and only rarely overwhelming.

·         -Subtle jokes. Like many Saturday morning cartoons, there are some jokes tossed in just for the adults reading along.

·         -Remember those ads I mentioned? They end up being (semi-)plot relevant. It’s not just fun, it also matters later on!

 Some cons:

·         -While I had fun reading this, 114 pages was close to being too long for me. For an actual child it would probably be a good amount of story and humor.

·         -May lead to egg confusion for some children. Parents may need to explain that most grocery store eggs are not fertilized.

·         -The name Beaky Barnes is similar to a certain Marvel character and his sister. My search results were confused while checking on some details for this review. Not an actual problem for the story, but check your autocorrect when ordering.

      All in all, I would recommend this story. It would be a great bridge for reluctant readers transitioning from picture books to more independent reading. Enjoy reading Beaky Barnes: Egg on the Loose – it’s a surprisingly relevant book, as anyone who has tried to buy eggs at a grocery store recently knows. And, more importantly, it’s an enjoyable comedy for the kids (big and small) in your life.

 Claire Rhode, a former children's book seller, is now studying to be a children's book librarian.

Thursday, October 13, 2022

Quick reviews: Slip by McCoola and Pandya

by Claire Rhode

              Slip (Workman Publishing, 2022) written by Marika McCoola, illustrated by Aatmaja Pandya does not pull its punches. This graphic novel opens with a scene where Jade, our protagonist, learns that her best friend, Phoebe, has attempted suicide. Suicide and self-harm are a major aspect of this story, so if either is a trigger for you, you may want to skip this book.

              Shortly after learning about Phoebe’s attempt, Jade leaves for an art residency program. Her medium is ceramics—although she’s also great at sketching, which is good, because that will be plot relevant. Seemingly behind all of the other students, Jade needs to find a cohesive theme for her work, improve so her ceramics quit blowing up in the kiln, navigate a difficult relationship with the other ceramics student, and take some tentative steps towards her first relationship, all while trying to figure out how she missed her best friend’s pain. Oh, and her ceramics are coming to life and not in a friendly way.

              What I liked:

·       The respect for Jade’s emotions. She really was a wounded animal, and the story gave her space to process without judging her.

·       Everyone else’s art projects. Bloody AF Persephone? Yes please!

·       The ending. No spoilers, but it worked for me.

What I didn’t like:

·       Why does Jade look ten? Why is she a baby? Her love interest, Mary, looks like a totally normal person who wants a college scholarship. What are they supposed to be, 16? 17? So why does Jade look like this could easily be a story about middle schoolers? (Seeing them kiss was disconcerting. They looked very mismatched.)

·       The use of color. I recognize they did it on purpose, but I did not like it. Basically, almost all of the book is done entirely in blue. Emotional scenes are in red. What I didn’t love is the balance. There would be pages and pages of blue before several red panels. It worked in some places, where the red is used sparingly to draw attention. I’m like a little magpie when I read and I love fun colors and interesting visuals. For me, this book was not it, but it may be for you!

All in all, Slip was a worthwhile read. It’s got a finger in a lot of the lesbian graphic novel pies: cottagecore, realistic and respectful discussions about mental health, and art. I give it four out of five stars. 

 Claire Rhode, a former children's book seller, is now studying to be a children's book librarian.

Sunday, September 25, 2022

Quick Reviews returns: Dirty Pictures, Fantastic Four, Mickey Mouse, Space Boy, McCay, Aimee de Jongh, and Orner's Smahtguy

 ...at least that's what I think I used to headline short review columns.

I caught covid for the first time this past week, probably at work where other people did, and I had just been transferred to the home office from a satellite one where I was one of two people showing up daily. I'm fine, that's fine, the disease is endemic now, and we've got vaccines to make sure most of us don't suffer badly from it, just like I haven't.

But it did mean that I ended up with some free time - at least 5 days in which I had to skip the events I had this weekend, which included a poker game, 2 comic book signings at Fantom Comics, a Pixar Inside Out exhibit preview at the Children's Museum, and a story-telling party. Instead I've been reading some of the graphic novels that came my way.


Dirty Pictures: How an Underground Network of Nerds, Feminists, Misfits,Geniuses, Bikers, Potheads, Printers, Intellectuals, and Art School Rebels Revolutionized Art and Invented Comix
by Brian Doherty, Abrams, 2022 - This isn't a graphic novel. Instead it's a dense history with no pictures which is why I haven't finished reading it yet. Reason magazine editor Doherty's produced a readable, comprehensive history of who knew who, who was sleeping with who, and who was drawing with who, why, and when. This is not for the uninitiated, as it has no images and assumes a familiarity with the field that's a step beyond basic. As such, I'm enjoying it and learning from it, but at times it reads like a Who's Who of underground comix - that's not a bad thing, especially as the cartoonists themselves either died young or are dying now (Diane Noomin within the past month). It does mean that it can be a bit of a struggle to keep people straight, or honestly to pick it up again after putting it down. I've been trying to read a chapter at a time, no more or less, which works for me, but I'm not a major fan of the undergrounds in spite of being dedicated to comics history. If you're similarly dedicated, you should buy this.

Fantastic Four: Full Circle by Alex Ross, Abrams, 2022 - I got a pdf of this from the publisher (who's been very kind about sending me material), and then was gifted a copy by my buddies at Big Planet Comics so it was clear the universe was telling me to read it. I also love the classic FF. Ross' hyper-realistic paintings have set a standard in superhero depiction for a couple of decades now, but he hasn't done a comic book in years. This time, he did it all including the writing, but not as a painted book. The story leaps off a plot point from FF #51, a Kirby-Lee story in which (here's the Kirby part) a minor character succeeds in copying the Thing's body exactly, fooling Mr. Fantastic into taking him into the Negative Zone, and then sacrificing himself to save Reed Richards. At 64 pages, this is exactly a story that could have been an FF annual in the 1960s. Ross's art is competent, being redolent of Kirby without descending into pastiche (Ross draws a photo-collage rather than making one as Kirby was doing at the time), and is steeped in FF history with respect. (Except for an unnecessary gag about Reed and Sue having sex, and Sue running out naked when the Baxter Building is breached by the negative zone, but hey, it's not 1968 anymore). The plot makes no more or less sense than Lee's ever did, and the hyperbole is cut back for modern audiences. I enjoyed this just fine, but it's a loving salute to a long-gone era. Although Ross does explain Captain Marvel / Rick Jones' nega bands which swapped their bodies in and out of the negative zone in the 1970s for longtime fans. As the first original comic book published by Abrams via licensing from Marvel, I'm sure it was a smart choice due to Ross's fans, but I don't think it'll bring any readers over to the FF.*

Mickey Mouse: Zombie Coffee by Regis Loisel, Seattle: Fantagraphics, 2022 - For years, Fantagraphics has been publishing the adult Disney material that has appeared in the European market. Greg Bennett of Big Planet Comics Bethesda makes a point of keeping me up on it. Loisel first made his mark with a bawdy retelling of Peter Pan - now many years later, he's doing licensed work. This story replicates the feel of Floyd Gottfredson's adventurous Mickey with simulated comic strips set during the Depression. Mouseton is seeing a real-estate speculator trying to buy up a bunch of lower middle class homes to build a golf course, and Mickey, Minnie, Horace, and Clarabelle are in the front of the resistance while Goofy, Pluto, and Donald make minor appearances. The two main villains are the traditional lawyer Sylvester and Pegleg Pete, often seen in the early comic strips. Like the previous book, the story doesn't make a lot of sense and you just need to go along and enjoy the madcap corny and violent story for what it is. The mind-control agents, such as the zombie coffee and 25-cent hamburgers, are typical of the days of the comics in which someone would build a 5-story robot to knock over a convenience store for $25. Loisel did a good job in capturing the feel of the 1930s strip, and I recommend this to those who like the early adventurous goofball Mickey.

Stephen McCranie's Space Boy Volume 13 by Stephen McCranie, Dark Horse, 2022 - I've been enjoying these manga-influenced webcomics collections since the middle of the pandemic when someone at Fantom Comics recommended them to me. It's an American reworking of Astro Boy for the most part, but as will happen with longer-running strips, it's become something of its own too, although this issue returns to a Pinocchio-plot point that can't really be avoided without the book becoming a horror novel. One definitely can't start with this issue, which opens in the middle of a murder investigation and leads to more injuries via exploding roboot, but his art is very assured by this point and I'm enjoying the unfolding of the story in chunks, rather than reading it on the web.

McCay by Thierry Smolderen and Jean-Philippe Bramanti, London: Titan Books, 2018 - somebody recommended this recently and while I don't remember who it was, I respected them enough to pick up a copy. A French work, written by a distinguished historian and comics writer, this is an alternate biography of the ground-breaking cartoonist Winsor McCay, and proposes that he can turn himself into a fourth-dimension (not time) where a version of Slumberland can be built from his dreams. Silas, McCay's pen-name for some strips, is a real person with the same ability, who's an anarcho-Communist determined to kill people he thinks deserve it. The story makes no sense at all, just like McCay's own works, but is lovely - Bramanti wisely doesn't try to emulate McCay and uses a much sparer, yet still lush style. It's a fun read and homage to a master cartoonist.

Aimee de Jongh was at SPX last weekend, and spoke at the Library of Congress about her newest book, which led me to seek her out at the SelfMade Hero table and buy all 3 that she had at the show. 

Blossoms in Autumn, words by Zidrou and art by Aimée de Jongh, translated by Matt Madden - a slice of life story about two older (I wrote elderly until I realized the man is only 2 years older than I am) people - a laid-off furniture mover and a cheese store owner who meet each other, and fall in love. It's not a major work, but a perfectly good read and a pleasant couple to spend an hour with.

The Return of the Honey Buzzard,
by Aimée de Jongh, translated by Michele Hutchison - this one was a bit more confusing because there's some magic realism going on in this and it takes a while to clue into it. On the other hand, it's been made into a movie, so perhaps I was just slow to pick up on the plot. Simon is about to lose his inherited bookstore, and won't go along with any of his wife's suggestions to sell and save what they can, when he witnesses the second suicide of someone around him. In his confusion, he meets a Lolita-like young woman (girl? her age is hard to tell) who needs assistance with school projects, we see the true story behind the first suicide, and begin to wonder if he'll make it to the end of the book. Oh, and the honey buzzard's return is a nature metaphor, not something you need to be watching out for in the corner of your eye.

Days of Sand by Aimée de Jongh, 2022 - her current book, researched here in DC, is off all things for a Dutch cartoonist to do, a story of the 1930s American dustbowl environmental disaster in Oklahoma, told through the lens (hah!) of a Farm Security Administration photographer from New York City. As she noted at the Library of Congress, this story is generally completely unknown in Europe, and largely forgotten here in America except by Steinbeck and Springsteen fans. de Jongh uses real government photos to lead into each chapter, and it's a moving account of a photographer 'going native' as it used to be phrased and becoming more sympathetic to the subjects of his camera than to his employers. The art is fantastic. The story is fine. The main character... a bit under-developed with daddy issues. Still, I'd recommend picking this up.

Smahtguy: The Life and Times of Barney Frank by Eric Orner, 2022 - I really liked this book. I didn't particularly expect to because it's a partial biography of a gay former-Congressman (by one of his former staffers) and I don't usually read political biographies, although I've been interested in gay cartoonists since moving to DC in 1983 and discovering that such a thing existed at all in the pages of the Washington Blade (back in print but no comics) and the Lambda Rising bookstore (long-closed but a new gay bookstore just opened this year). I was sheltered in 1970s New Jersey, sometimes for the good, and others not [full disclosure: I'm not gay, but didn't meet out people until I arrived at GWU].  Anyway, Orner was signing his book this summer at Solid State Books on H Street, I went, along with many of his former Hill colleagues, and was very impressed by the book. It took me a while to sit down and read it ... it's still a political biography... but it's well-worth reading to see how America has changed from those 1970s and how people like Barney Frank shepherded that change, sometimes by not leading from the front. I recommend this - enough that I interviewed the cartoonist a shamefully long time ago.

That's it for today - let me know if you want to see my trying to get my writing chops back with more.

Still to come - an hour and a half long interview with Eric Orner that's taking me a ridiculously long time to edit.  In my defense, I've been moving an archive for work all summer and it wears one out. This photo is part of the post-move, pre-rebuilding state of it last week, pre-covid. Sigh.

*9/26 - Rodrigo Baeza sent me a note about this comics' history with permission to reprint it -

I read an Alex Ross interview today (from Back Issue #118; February 2020), which happens to be related to the Fantastic Four book you read. In the interview, Ross relates that he decided (on his own initiative, without being asked by Marvel) to prepare a Fantastic Four pitch in early 2017, back when the title was in limbo and in anticipation of Marvel clearing up the rights' situation with Fox Studios.

He came up with a drawing style inspired by two sources: one was a British "Fantastic Four" album from the late '60s that was recolored in "bizarre Day-Glo colors", and the other was the work of Spanish artist ACO on a Nick Fury miniseries done with James Robinson (some of that art can be seen here: https://www.pastemagazine.com/comics/james-robinson-aco/aco-sterankos-the-hell-out-of-nick-fury-with-james/). The idea was to "translate Kirby's work into a '60s pop-art graphic", combined with Ross's realistic rendering. He also decided to base Reed and Sue on the likenesses of two actors from the "Land of the Giants" TV show (Gary Conway and Deanna Lund), and use the logo of the "Fantastic Voyage" movie as inspiration for a new element.

The pitch he presented to Marvel (via editor Tom Brevoort) was mostly focused on the visual elements (with no storylines defined), with the hopes that this would not only lead to a comic-book series (with guest artists like Bill Sienkiewicz and Steve Rude, and maybe Mark Waid as a writer developing Ross's concepts) but that this visual redesign be used in future movies as well (Ross makes the complaint that too many elements of the Marvel movies are based on the Ultimate comics versions rather than the Jack Kirby comics).

Marvel unsurprisingly didn't go for the pitch, getting Dan Slott to write the comic instead. But from what I can see, Ross eventually ended up using all of this conceptual work in the "Full Circle" graphic novel that has now been published by Abrams (even the logo inspired by "Fantastic Voyage").


Monday, May 16, 2022

The Holy Ghost by John Hendrix - A joint review

by Mike Rhode & Cathy Hunter

When a publicist offered to send The Holy Ghost: A Spirited Comic by John Hendrix (Abrams Comic Arts, 2022) for review, I (Mike) accepted enthusiastically. I had just interviewed Grant Snider for his book, The Art of Living, from the same publisher, and am very fond of his philosophical one-page comics. I expected something similar from Hendrix, as his book has an introduction by Patrick McDonnell, another thoughtful and spiritual cartoonist who recently took a half year off to work on a project with the Dalai Lama.

I very much enjoyed Hendrix's art - his drawings of a little blue ghost, or more properly I suppose, a little blue spirit, and his foils, an anthropomorphic squirrel and badger.

The publisher's promo text reads:

Does God exist? Is there a heaven? What’s the point of it all? Do we even matter?

This collection of thought-provoking, humorous comic strips is a series of conversations between a squirrel, a badger, and a friendly blue ghost who may or may not be one third of the Holy Trinity. Charming, witty, and at times poignant, yet never holier-than-thou, New York Times bestselling and award-winning illustrator John Hendrix tackles some of life’s greatest questions. Whether you consider yourself faithful or a nonbeliever, these delightfully off-kilter comics deliver laughter, comfort, and philosophical musings with humble, honest spirit—and just the right dose of playful irreverence.

and this highlights my major issue with the book - it is a deep dive into Christian thought, not really philosophical musings writ large.

There's a strong tradition of religious cartoons and cartoonists - single panel cartoons such as Brother Juniper, odd excursions such as Al Hartley's Christian Archie comics, the evil evangelism of Jack Chick's tracts, so I should not have been surprised I suppose. Hendrix's afterword (not foreword) is clear -- he doodled a lot of these cartoons in church while listening to sermons. "The comics became a way to preach to myself over many years and many seasons of life." Fair enough, but as I've grown older, I've become less tolerant of proselytizing.

Still, the art is very well done, the cartoons are often clever, and I decided to turn to my wife Cathy, who is religious, to the point of being her church's volunteer librarian. She found this to be a book that reminded her of teachings she'd encountered over the years and enjoyed revisiting some of those big questions illustrated with a whimsical blue ghost.  She sees Hendrix's claimed influences of Schulz and Watterson in the art. The following are her thoughts on the book -

Trying to make sense of the Trinity, particularly the Holy Ghost is one paradox after another. Many of the illustrations reminded me of the King James Version of the Bible's description of faith:  "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

I love the typography of the strip title. For each one, he does something different. A couple of cartoons stood out for me. On page 120, the very first cartoon done in his sketchbook, illustrates "Be Thou My Vision," my favorite hymn based on an old Celtic tune. However, the analysis is spot-on. Who does not care anything about money or being well-thought of? On page 115, the Ghost and Squirrel are playing checkers, and the Ghost says, "King of Kings me" to which the losing Squirrel replies "Enough with that." This very light-hearted cartoon is one of my favorites.

In the end, Hendrix succeeds in holding in equipoise the bad things happening in the world, but also the love and all the beautiful things. He shows that still, small voice that sees a small light in the dark.
So there you have it - two viewpoints on one book. We both agree that the artwork is lovely, and Abrams has done its usual fine job -- except for one thing -- the cartoons are too small. Many of them would have benefited from being European album-sized instead of a slightly larger-than-usual hardcover, both for the art and the text. Even the Artist's Note appears to be in 8 point type, which won't appeal to the older reader who is probably more likely to purchase this book. In the end, we were both glad of the opportunity to read the book, and glad the strips are collected for a broader audience.
An example of 'too small' reproduction
 
And Cathy's church library is getting the review copy...




Monday, November 01, 2021

A Review of Ballad for Sophie by Filipe Melo and Juan Cavia

by Jason D. DeHart

Ballad for Sophie, by Filipe Melo and Juan Cavia, Top Shelf Productions, ISBN 978-1-60309-498-6, $24.99, https://www.topshelfcomix.com/catalog/ballad-for-sophie/1068 

First, here are some excerpts press release to summarize the plot and creators - Top Shelf Productions (an imprint of IDW) will be releasing Ballad for Sophie, a new music-themed graphic novel by Portuguese musician Filipe Melo and artist Juan Cavia that is packed with all of the drama of a rock ‘n’ roll biopic and with more twists than a night at the opera.  Ballad for Sophie is a sweeping tale about what happens when a young journalist prompts a reclusive musical superstar to finally break his silence. Starring child prodigies, bitter old men, beautiful dancers, demonic managers, Nazi commandants, compassionate nuns and lifesaving animals, Ballad for Sophie is a stunning graphic symphony exploring a lifetime of ambition, betrayal, compassion anguish, long-buried secrets and flying pianos. 

FILIPE MELO is a Portuguese musician, award-winning film director, and author. With decades of experience in classical and jazz piano, he teaches music at ESML, a university in Lisbon. He has developed commercials, music videos, and award-winning short films such as I’ll See You in My  Dreams and Sleepwalk. His international writing career includes the Dark Horse Presents anthology, a career award from the Amadora  comics festival, and several projects with Juan Cavia. JUAN CAVIA has worked as an art director and illustrator since 2004, after studying illustration and painting with the Argentinean  artist Carlos Pedrazzini. His work includes graphic novels, advertisements, TV, music videos, theater and nine feature films, including  Juan JosĂ© Campanella’s Oscar-winning The Secret in Their Eyes. Listen to the beautiful Ballad for Sophie theme song on Spotify HERE.

 and now, the review -

Writer Felipe Melo and artist Juan Cavia collaborate to share a visually gripping story that spans time, exploring identity, relationships, and music through the kinds of work that only comics can do. The story begins frame from the view of a journalist, and invites the reader into the narrative, with wordless panels giving us a clear time and place, and the hint of some mysterious turn to come. 

Setting the foundation this way, along with the realistic style, are notable moves on the part of the artist and author, as the story travels back and forth across decades, and yet keeps the reader in tow through these twists in time. Another effective part of the storytelling is reader’s introduction to the maestro, the focal point in the story, first revealed as a figure turned away who closes out the inquisitive reporter, and then gradually warming to her questions. His reclusiveness forms one side of the mystery, and the motivations this interviewer create more questions for the reader.

Drawing on what can be communicated in the comics format, Melo and Cavia convey ideas and emotions through expressions, movements, and gestures, sometimes with words contained in panels, and sometimes not – and the hook of the story is set as we wonder about the maestro’s silence. Through the narrator’s voice, the story travels effectively, first revisiting events in 1933, expanding on elements of the central mystery. The same intrigue that underscores the play Amadeus by Peter Shaffer is a feature that works on these pages, probing into the hesitation and revealed genius of a composer. 

 The emotional power of the story comes through in Melo’s use of historical points and Cavia’s clear depictions of suffering and loss that build a foundation for the contemporary introduction the reader experiences, filling in gaps in character and motivation in a visual and very literary way. Working in a magical and supernatural way, the reader meets the character of Triton, the producer, to convey the devilish aspects of signing a professional contract for an artistic endeavor. This is another use of symbolism that the author and artist include, adding suspense. 

Ballad for Sophie depicts the price of fame, the weight of guilt, the development of a life across times of war and affliction, and the emotional consequences of a life on display. These are themes that such stories have gone to before and almost inevitably address. Arguably, the comics page presents the emotion and experiences of characters more effectively than a prose novel could. The swirling images of sexuality, temptation, and addiction add to the reading, offering a storytelling technique that allows the reader to imagine what the main character is feeling. Movies have been more of mixed bag in exploring fame, sometimes pausing on moments with thoughtful weight and sometimes glossing over them as scenery the viewer expects to see along the way. 

Though these themes may be found in other biographical and autobiographical works, the power of Ballad for Sophie is the way that the story is conveyed, including the ways the artistic choices support the narrative, and the presentation of images that could only exist in the minds of characters. The graphic novel and the innovation found in certain panels lifts the book, as well as the creative turns in the storytelling. With all of this taken in mind, I recommend this book for readers to enjoy. 

 

As I've spent far more time at a computer screen during covid, I've fallen way behind on doing book reviews. Thanks to Prof. Jason DeHart of Appalachian State University who reached out to volunteer to help, and he will be doing more reviews for us. He also has his own site, Book Love: Dr J Reads. - Mike