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ROSETTA 2
edited by Ng Suat Tong with Domingos Isabelinho
($19.95,
Alternative Comics)
Review by Chris Polkki
Anthologies are a tough business: not only are they a challenge for publishers to market and sell ("what are the chances that even a single reader will enjoy every single piece in a given issue?"), but assembling each edition can be an intricate exercise in editorial self-knowledge ("what sorts of comics do I, the editor, want to see more of in print?") as well as execution ("how do I convey my editorial sensibilities on paper, in a way that is at once approachable, cohesive, surprising, and fun to read?").
Like all independent comics anthologies,
Rosetta 2 attempts to address these editorial quandaries. Unfortunately, while the volume might adequately convey Ng Suat Tong's sensibilities, it also fails as a pleasurable reading experience, hampered as it is by conceptual gaffes, questionable taste in contributors, and other assorted problems.
Promisingly,
R2 interweaves three main presentations: (1) both traditional and avant-garde Asian comics; (2) moody, coarsely-drawn Eurocomics with an introspective bent; and (3) conventionally-drawn stories with "narrative substance". Unfortunately, the integration of "Eastern" work with more familiar-seeming "Western" material suffers from an unsound use of sectioning; meanwhile, the European comics mostly come off as empty and self-impressed; and finally, the more conventional stories seem blandly redundant to those of us who prefer to be entertained, surprised or (Heaven forbid!) blown away by our comics.
While
R2's attempted integration of traditional Asian work into a Western format is commendable, an ostentatious use of section dividers and/or running commentary (not to mention redundantly-labeled "color sections") only weakens the integration of stories by such artists as Feng Zikai and Liao Bingxiong into the rest of the book, instead transforming them into idle curiosity pieces. (I had the same problem with the presentation of Albert Chartier's work in the
Drawn & Quarterly Volume 5 anthology - his pages were presented as garage sale finds rather than stories, and as a result of this emphasis on "object" over "subject", I can't for the life of me recall a single story from any of the strips that appeared there.) The moment a cartoonist's work in an anthology is treated as something to be looked at rather than read, it becomes objectified, a thing rather than a story, failing to contribute to the narrative propulsion of the book. In other words: if this is really prime quality work (as, one would assume, the editor believes it is), why isolate it like a museum relic, when it would be so much more fun to let it go out and play with the other girls and boys?
This misguided approach to Asian comics as "exotic objects" takes an even less impressive turn near the end of the book, wherein celebrity artist Paul Pope's unfinished, seemingly half-hearted experimentation with the "right-to-left" manga form is included (and printed upside-down to, one assumes, capture the essence of Japanese expression). The whole thing is even more annoying than it sounds, as Pope's sloppy, unfinished story leads (surprise!) nowhere, and the awkward format change demands far too much of even the most patient reader. (Whether or not Pope is even worthy of such an experiment in the first place is open for debate.)
One wonders, though, why material that would barely be welcome as unpublished scraps hidden in the back of some future Pope publication would be included here (i.e., near the climactic bits of an anthology that is already suffering from its share of flow problems) at all, other than to either lure unsuspecting Pope completists into forking over some cash for the thing, or to sell the book to a burgeoning market as something that "includes manga".
Also, more generally, why do the editors assume in both of these cases that the reader will not be able to appreciate the Asian work unless it is properly isolated, annotated and contextualized? Doesn't the type of sophisticated reader at which this anthology is aimed deserve a little more credit than that? Furthermore, even if appreciating the work independently of editorial meddling did turn out to be a challenge for the reader, isn't that a good thing: that which is supposed to make reading comics anthologies, in all their eclecticism, so stimulating to read?
In addition to this segregatory, possibly cynical approach to the Asian material, a good chunk of the anthology is also marred by moody, espresso-stained Eurocomics from artists such as Andrea Bruno (whose lugubrious story is further hindered by an overly verbose, and unintentionally hilarious, English translation) and Martin Tom Dieck. These kinds of self-consciously "thoughtful" pieces are roundly dismissed by aficionados of more provocative and wildly original comics from across the ocean (see Le Dernier Cri and Ego comme X for a bite or two), being the product of illustrators who seem to have mistaken their own mannered "Existential gothic" drawing style for Artistry. Even more disconcerting is that so many otherwise intelligent comic readers have been duped into believing that this type of material represents the pinnacle of European comics.
The American artists in this volume mostly fail to impress. Craig Thompson's "Adam & Eve" attempts well-composed full-page-spread composition with mostly flat results. I was unable to finish Jason Lutes's story, mostly because the writing is dull and generic, and I have always found his drawings to be decently-executed, but... dull and generic. Vincent Stall's story meanders and feels like undercooked noir blended with yuppie suburban angst (his stories work much better as stand-alone, self-designed minis). Ted Stearn delivers a jokey Thanksgiving narrative that adds little to my impression of him as an artist (and he employs a denser panel construction here, which feels unnecessarily claustrophobic).
A couple of pieces fall outside of the three main presentations outlined above, the most notable (aside from a striking, rather interesting color story by Max, a thrilling piece by Anke Feuchtenberger, and an artful, clever turn from M. Kupperman) being our
Eiland friends Tobias Schalken and Stefan van Dinther. While the uncategorizability of these two artists could have been good for
R2, they instead provide two of the most problematic pieces in the book.
Graphically, the value of both pieces cannot be denied: here, Schalken employs a visually remarkable penciled style, allowing for a beautiful narrative framework. Unfortunately, the "narrative" extends little beyond cryptic statements coming from characters devoid of facial expression, draining the story of emotion despite the fact that it is brimming with artistic ideas. One wishes for a little less faux-perfection and a little more soul next time from Schalken.
Stefan van Dinther's tale is more cohesive - the protagonist is similarly cryptic, but the reader gets a strong sense of his mysterious connection to his surrounding urban environment, and is thereby encouraged to think more deeply about the character while being guided expertly through a range of striking visual tableaux.
Another artist who falls outside pre-set categories is Fabio Zimbres, who contributes my personal favorite piece in the entire book, admittedly because it comes closest to the "brut" approach to comics that I find so interesting. I am rarely disappointed with Zimbres's clever, groundbreaking stories, and in this case color is used fantastically well.
The front cover, designed by Peter Kuper, is a dingy monstrosity. The more appealing back cover by Megan Kelso continues Kuper's "underwater city" theme, but the contrast of these two artists' styles feels like bad design rather than striking juxtaposition.
I guess I just wish this book could have had some pieces in it that really surprised or excited me, instead of force-feeding me museum-type lessons about Asian art and interfering with my reading enjoyment with glaring missteps in presentation. The material definitely suffers as a result of these errors, and as a result my overall reaction to the book is one of disappointment.
Anthologies are a tough business.
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