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SNAKE MEAT #1 & 2
by Max Clotfelter

($1.00 for #1, $2.00 for #2 from Max Clotfelter, www.maxclotfelter.com)

Reviewed by Rick Bradford

These minis are compilations from Max Clotfelter's (Vittle Chin) sketchbooks. I'm a fan of his work and of sketchbook collections in general, so Snake Meat gets a thumbs-up from me. Max tends to focus on not-so-pleasant aspects of reality (and fantasy) in a cartoony fashion and he does it well. Every square inch of these minis is packed with texture-rich ugliness — a beautiful sort of ugliness, you understand. If you enjoy looking at artists' sketchbooks, this work deserves your attention. And when you order these, be sure to bug Max about publishing more comics!

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< zines >



JOHNNY AMERICA #1
by various

($3.00 from Johnny America / PO Box 44-2001 / Lawrence KS / 66044 USA. Web: www.johnnyamerica.com)

Reviewed by Alan Rankin

This is the first print edition of the webzine Johnny America, featuring short-short stories and mini-reviews written in a detached, ironic style that’s often quite funny. Dry humor like this doesn't lend itself to description, though; you try explaining why it's funny, and not only do you fail, you end up sounding like a square who wouldn't know "funny" if it walked in wearing clown shoes. So rather than try to describe the style of Johnny America, I’m going to imitate it for this very review:

At 8 A., the phone rudely roused me from my hungover slumber. I rolled away from the naked blonde and picked it up. She muttered “Melvin” and fell back asleep. Good. Saved me the trouble of remembering her name.

It was Ricko on the phone. “Got a job for you. Reviewing Johnny America. It’s the first print edition of the webzine, featuring short-short –“

I cut him off. “We all read the intro. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Contributors include Emily Lawton and Jonathan Holley. Most stories are less than a page, so it’s a pretty fast read. What do you say? Are you up for it?”

I swung my legs off the bed and sat up. “I dunno, RB. I’m still on this Untamed Highway case right now. Could be months before I’m done with it.”

That’s when he hit me with the kicker. “It's published by some outfit calling themselves the Moon Rabbit Drinking Club & Benevolence Society. They’re out of Lawrence, Kansas.”

Lawrence. College town. Former home of Beat writer William Burroughs. Anybody bold enough to use that locale as a literary base either has plenty of street-cred, or cojones the size of Donald Trump’s hubris. “I’ll take it, Rick.”

I could hear his satisfied smirk over the phone. “Good. I’ll have it right over to ya by bike messenger. I need the review by May 12th.” Good ole Ricko and his unrealistic deadlines.

The bike messenger showed up half an hour later. This was no small feat, since I was 200 miles away from Rick at the time. I paid him and let him collapse in a corner of the yard. When I opened the package, a couple of gimme’s fell out — a button and sticker bearing the Johnny America logo, a starry-eyed rabbit. I smirked: obvious bribes to sway the weak-minded reviewer. (Worked on me...) The first thing I noticed about the zine was the intricate cover design: like a roll of bad wallpaper, yet somehow eye-catching at the same time.

Ricko was right; it was a fast read. I was halfway through by the time the blonde came to, dressed, muttered a groggy apology, and left. Heading home to Melvin, no doubt.

In a collection of roughly forty stories, some will naturally be better than others. If you don't like the in-depth discussion of the best way to pop a plastic straw out of its wrapper, turn the page and there's an amusing chat with a gangsta-rapper, in which he outlines the classical roots and subtle post-feminist nuances of the word “bee-yotch.” In other words, something for the whole family.

Is it worth three bucks? Sure, why not? I mean, otherwise you’ll spend that money on a Triple-Cinnamon Latte at Starbucks, and the surly glare you get from the dreadie-kid behind the counter isn’t nearly as much fun as the submission guidelines listed in the back of Johnny America #1. No kidding.

The typeface is kinda small; not the sort of thing you wanna read on a bleary, hungover morning. But under a good strong reading light, you’ll find the stories at least mildly amusing — if not particularly deep or introspective. But hey, we can’t all be Honore de Balzac. (The anonymous editors tell us the typeface will change in future issues — but how do we know we can trust THEM?)

I started writing the review after my two-beer breakfast, and had it winging off to Ricko by my second brunch bourbon. Outraged at my excess, he threatened to send two thugs from the Zinester Mafia around to rearrange my typing fingers. Ah well. That’s how it goes: some days you’re the gorilla, some days you’re just the banana.

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< comics/x >



TRUE FICTION #5
by T. Motley

($3.00 from T. Motley / 1532 Elm St. / Denver, CO / 80220 USA or Squid Works. E-mail)

Reviewed by Henry Chamberlain

True Fiction #5, by T. Motley, is the result of a 24-hour comic marathon — you know, the Scott McCloud challenge. Motley does take some care in providing info on 24-hour comics and makes a dedication to "Elizabeth". But it's the actual comic that gives me pause.

This is the premise: it's the eve of an English Lit exam but young Amelia must find time to pose as a nude model. As laughable as this is, unfortunately this is not meant to be comedy. The art class seems endless as does this comic. Herein lies the first problem — an ill-conceived theme, which ties into another problem: the art work.

The book revolves around a nude woman, which, like it or not, opens the artist to a higher level of scrutiny. In most of these cases, we're dealing with guys drawing naked ladies. But the roles can be reversed: mostly in response to countless years of guys drawing naked ladies. Anyway, things are always interesting when dealing with issues of sex. I have no problem with erotic art, per se. But there is a problem when an artist creates depictions of women as mere sex objects. That's what Motley's up against. Can he justify it?

This sort of debate can get murky, but it looks clear to me that Motley is pushing some pretty hot buttons when he has his model hitch up her rear end to where you can see her vagina from behind. And why is she doing this? Oh, right, she's a nude model, with a proclivity for provocative poses while she studies...what? Oh, yeah, Motley has her memorizing lines of poetry for a college exam. Memorizing poetry like a little school girl. Come on.

In one panel, the model is contorted to the point of physical impossibility. If you're going to draw erotica, and if you're focusing on a form of realism, you really want to do it right. And, most importantly, you want to be upfront about it. That way, you might be called an erotic artist and avoid being called a misogynist.

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MOXIE, MY SWEET
by FineComix

(80 pages, $6.95, www.finecomix.com)

Reviewed by Henry Chamberlain

Like any worthwhile anthology, Moxie, My Sweet will become a time capsule capturing its contributors at various stages in their development. Having just been published by the Seattle artist collective, FineComix, the time is now to see something of the future of comix.

Celebrating the writing of Mark Campos, each artist has taken a Campos story or passage and made it their own. There's a fanciful quality running throughout the text, whether grounded in reality or not, and each artist has definitely picked up on that. A child-like wonderment about matters of life and death, love and redemption, are treated in remarkably different ways by author and artists alike.

David Lasky provides the right earthy tone to stoner fantasy in "Ramble On." Tatiana Gill captures the youthful energy behind "Maxine." Sarah Galvin provides the cute quality needed for "Appliances Gone Wrong." Elijah Brubaker steps into the perfect fanciful tempo for "Colony of Cats." Kaz Strzepek provides sophisticated cuteness for "Endless Plain of Fortune." Scott Faulkner gives the right dose of noirish melancholy to "Can of Beans." Dalton Webb is on the money with perfect upbeat notes for "The Crow Passes." And Stefan Gruber's otherworldy style graces "Fortunes" and "Phil Dick's Mutant Service."

By way of disclaimer, I do have to say that I know most of these guys and I do wish them well. In fact, I curate an art show promoting this book which I certainly hope helps out. It's been a long road for them and they sincerely have something to be proud of. I know Dalton the best. I've known him for years and I'm impressed with how far he has come. His love of comics, with a special place in his heart for Walt Kelly, shines through in his piece.

Everyone involved in this book, for that matter, demonstrates a sincere love for the comics medium. Weighing in at 80 pages, this little trade paperback packs a wollop and is genuinely worth your attention and patronage.

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UNTAMED HIGHWAY #1
by Shawn Dickinson and Noah Snodgrass

(32pp b&w comic; $3.95 from Untamed Comics / PO Box 246 / Littlerock, CA / 93543 USA. Web: www.untamedhighway.com)

Reviewed by Alan Rankin

I’m glad Ricko invited me to review this: Untamed Highway was an unexpected treat. It’s one of those stories that defies comparison. While it’s tempting to describe it as “the secret love child of Harvey Kurtzman and David Lynch” or some such, that downplays the book’s originality. In a similar vein, I would liken the art style to British cartoonist Hunt Emerson, but that’s just because it reminds me more of Emerson than anybody else.

The indicia doesn’t make clear how Dickinson and Snodgrass divide the writing and art chores. But they seem to have a smooth working relationship: story and art are equally nutty. The basic plot will be familiar to fans of hard-boiled fiction: A likable loser gets mixed up with a gang of weirdos, who coerce him into doing their dirty work; intrigue and danger immediately follow. In execution, though, it’s closer to The Big Lebowski than a Jim Thompson novel. And like Lebowski, Untamed made me laugh out loud several times. Shawn and Noah have a great, wacked-out sense of humor.

Our “hero” is Syd Drake, a bespectacled schmo in a cheap suit and Elvis pompadour. He’s on the run from “Bananas” Barofski, a gangster who wears a permanently-affixed gorilla mask, and who faked his own death in a bowling accident. Drake is recruited by a Shriner-like secret society of wackos, “The Eye in the Wasteland,” who wear the craziest headgear since Fred Flintstone’s Royal Order of Water Buffaloes. The Eye gang, who are obsessed with roadside attractions, have their own beef with Barofski — but Drake learns too late that they’re just as dangerous.

Add to this a bar decorated in tiki masks and Easter Island heads; a gruesome sideshow exhibit that turns out to be the “McGuffin” everybody’s after; some hilarious dialogue exchanges; and an unexpected cameo by Ed Wood performer Tor Johnson. Issue #1 ends on a cliffhanger, but it’s well worth your four bucks; there’s a lot of comedy and oddball action crammed into these 32 pages.

My only complaint is that the print values sometimes aren’t up to matching the artwork. In certain panels, such as the first shot of the “Idol Hans” bar, many fine details are all but lost to the background. The original art must have looked terrific by comparison. (You can see some sample page art on the website.) Maybe if lots of people buy issue 1, the guys can get better printing for future issues. Anyway, that's a minor caveat; I highly recommend Untamed Highway. If you’re a fan of comedy in the style of Kurtzman’s Mad, check this one out.

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FUNNY BOOK #1
edited by Eric Reynolds

(Fantagraphics Books; available soon in the Poopsheet Shop)

Reviewed by Jeff Mason

Fantagraphics Books' Funny Book #1 is one of the better anthologies I've read in quite a while. Eric Reynolds put together a rather good book in which he packed a dense mix of comics that have appeared in print before and of comics previews of upcoming books.

Although the scales tip in the favor of reprinted comics, they certainly don't wear out with age. Funny Book #1 reminds us why Fantagraphics Books may accurately be described as publisher of the world's greatest cartoonists.

Classy minimalistic Art Direction from Adam Grano atractively supports Funny Book #1 rather well, with my only complaint being that I didn't care for the starkness of the low-rez black and white character images on the cover.

Eric Reynolds has honed his promotional patter to a high lustre over the years, and his introductory editorial sets the stage for a fast paced and well thought out arrangement of strips.

Chris Ware's "Our Great Book Trimming Machine" makes a grand appearance on the inside-front-cover, but seems not to have merited him a paragraph on the "about the authors" inside-back cover. That omission is a minor quibble — I only have minor quibbles about this very solid anthology. For example, I would have loved to have seen at least a mere tip of the hat to Fantagraphics' great line of classic comic strip collections.

From just the first page, reading again Ivan Brunetti's "How to Draw Cartoons" and "22 Panels That Always Work* (*sometimes)" I was compelled to wallow through Brunetti's website and to sift through the archives of his Doodle-a-Day blog. Peter Bagge's "The Adventures of Bat Boy" lead to a similar digression, this time to the copy of Hate Annual #5 and Apocalypse Nerd #1 I purchased on Free Comic Book Day today. As I read, many of the other strips made me start looking through my back issues to re-read some of my favorite Fantagraphics books.

Funny Book #1 as gestalt does exactly what it is supposed to do — it makes us want more.

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LITTLE BILLY BLUMPKIN
by John Kerschbaum

(Fontanelle Press)

Reviewed by Heath Row

John Kerschbaum's longer form work, at least in terms of higher-page-count collections such as The Wiggly Reader and If New York City Was the World, is amazing. So it's no surprise that his shorter-form, standalone work, such as this 20-page, limited-edition, hand-bound item, is just as — if not more — impressive. Clad in a heavy-stock rust cover, this photocopied mini published in 2004 tells the tale of little Billy Blumpkin, who "sat upon a pumpkin... waiting patiently for it to hatch." Scripted using Dr. Seuss-style rhyme, the story progresses as slowly as the snail, which, featured prominently in a series of panels over the course of seven pages, goes just far enough. It's a slow-growing joke, but one that still made me laugh even though I saw it coming a whole two feet away.

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