Posts tagged Comic Books

Today’s comic review comes at us from Natalie Nourigat, a lovely Oregonian (is that the way you’re supposed to say it?) whom I met at TCAF and ended up interviewing for this piece on Torontoist.

I picked up her book, Between Gears, primarily because the art style instantly appealed to me; I’m a big fan of a “cartoony, but not too cartoony” flair to my books, and Natalie’s fit that to a T. Her book is about her final year of college, and reads like a personal diary: because I’m going through a similar time in my life (graduating on the 8th!), I figured I’d enjoy the read.

And damn, I did. Read on for the full scoop.

As always, reblogging helps me out a whole bunch. Consider recommending this post to a friend if you liked it! Also, follow me on Twitter and Facebook for more updates!

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Hey all! It’s your friendly-neighborhood Matt Demers here with a bit of a giveaway to help jump-start my new bloggy-blogs. If you haven’t noticed lately, I’ve been trying to keep my site pumped with new reviews (almost) every day, from Korra to graphic novels to video games and music. 

This is all awesome, and I’m pretty happy that I’ve managed to make a schedule out of it, but the nature of Tumblr means that text posts don’t really share as well as image/art posts do. I’d really like to expand my reader base, and I figure the best way to do that would be to ask you guys to reblog and recommend me to your friends!

So, herein lies the giveaway.

I will be giving out three (3) copies of Bastion: Soundtrack Edition for Steam over the next couple months. For this giveaway, one is up for grabs, and I’ll be choosing the winner randomly from the reblogs of this post.

If you can, writing a  recommendation would make my day, as well :). I’m not really sure of a way to include people who don’t have Tumblr (as it’s hard to track both Twitter and link sharing); I’ll take suggestions for the next time I do this.

I’ll be keeping a list of the usernames of the people from the Notes list for this post, and draw on Sunday, May 27. Keep in mind that in order to be considered, you can’t change any of the text in this post (including below this line). That’s just for people who don’t want to read the mushy stuff as to why I’m doing this.

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But anyways, thank you. It’s been my dream job to write about what I’m passionate about, and have people enjoy reading it. I don’t feel right outright asking (*cough* begging *cough*) for recommendations, so this will have to do for now.

If you already read/like/reblog my stuff already, thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you. If you’re new to me and my writing, come in and stay awhile; you’re sure to find something you like.

Thanks for reading.

The first Jeff Lemire comic I read was Essex County, his huge (and I mean huge) tribute to rural Canadian life. As a guy who grew up on the cusp of the community that Essex portrayed, I felt a little bit of attachment to it; in the long haul, it’s one of my favourite graphic novels to read start-to-finish,and I can definitely recommend it as essential Canadian lit.

Lemire’s style isn’t one I thought I’d end up liking, but now I have an appreciation for how much emotion he can pack into panels that are the opposite of sharp, clean lines. Below is my review for his earlier title, Lost Dogs, which I had a chance to pick up at TCAF 2012. Click the read more link to see it.

As always, if you enjoy my stuff, feel free to give me a like/reblog, follow me on Twitter, or Facebook.

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I review comics for a living. As a result, I tend to read a lot of books that, if given the choice, I would avoid completely. They are books that do nothing for me, and usually receive the harsh end of the review stick in my writing.

Not DMZ.

DMZ is a comic book that just finished this year, after a six-year, seventy-two issue run; it featured the hypothetical situation that a second American Civil War had turned the island of Manhattan into a no-man’s land. 

While two armies were fighting over the land, there were still people living in the burnt-out husk of a city. These people had not made it out with the initial evacuation, stayed because they wanted to, or moved in with some hope that they could exploit the situation for personal gain.

People ran restaurant greenhouses and opened boutiques stocked with clothes stolen from racks in abandoned apartments. They defended their turf with violence and guns, learning that sometimes it was safer to depend on themselves. They still managed to be artistic, self-sufficient, and have culture.

Our hero, Matty Roth, wanted none of that. He just wanted to be a journalist. He would spend the next few years of his life reporting on the DMZ, learning the ways of its people and chasing that story. Along the way, however, he fell. He fell hard. 

Matty was corrupted by the power he received from the one man he thought could help the DMZ, and eventually, it ruined him. He couldn’t turn back.

While reading this story, writer Brian Wood quickly became one of my favourites because of the way he managed to turn one-off characters into light bulbs that illuminated the whole picture of the DMZ. 

Through reading about a DJ who dodges minefields on his way to a club, or a forty-something graffiti artist who only viewed his final work while being detained in a military helicopter, I understood the heart and spirit of the city. I understood the people who didn’t want to give up. I understood the people who just wanted to be free.

And frankly, that ability to make one-shot characters with no lasting impact on the main plot important amazed me. Matty Roth would never run across them in real life, apart from a faux “New York Times” published in issue twelve. This issue really stuck with me due to its construction, art style and purpose.

The issue is constructed like a real booklet that outlines maps, neighborhoods, interviews, talking heads and concepts. Learning “the anatomy of a street battle” or learning that people who ventured into the Empire State Building were never heard from again added character to the city without explicitly devoting too much time to the specifics.

Instead, when Wood comes back to them, issues later, a light goes on in our head that says “Man, I read about them back then and they sounded cool - this is 100 times better!”

That takes talent - the ability to plant a seed of an idea in a reader’s brain, have them forget about it, then have it bloom brilliantly later. 

By the end of the story, I’m not just reading about the DJ, Random Fire, or the artist, Decade Later. I’m living with them. I’m sharing the same vegan restaurants, or dodging the bombs raining down from both sides.

I’m huddled in a subway tunnel with them with the vain hope that the fighting will stop, we’ll be able to go home, and everything will be alright in the DMZ.