I'm a product of the 1980s. I started high school in 1981 and graduated from undergrad in 1989. I wore leg warmers, stirrup pants, ballet flats, and unfortunate prints and color combinations--likely all at the same time. I turned up the collars on my shirts, pegged my pants, coated pennies with clear nail polish so they wouldn't lose their shine in my loafers, added additional piercings to my left ear lobe, and got an asymmetrical haircut. Since I lived in Saginaw and East Lansing, Michigan, I didn't experience the same extremes of vacuous culture, cocaine and drug use, and casual sex that big-city folk engaged in, but it also wasn't a period of innocence or sophistication. Frankly, if there is one saving grace to the 80s, it's that Facebook didn't come around for another 20+ years. For this I am eternally grateful to the Internet gods.
While we don't have minute-by-minute photo and narrative documentation of the 80s, we're not without our recorders. Premier among them is Jay McInerney; between his books and those of Brett Easton Ellis, you can pretty much understand the mindset of the time period without having to actually live it. And, those of us who did live it--even in some mid-western way--can take a trip down memory lane by picking up any of their novels of the period. Some time ago, Amazon apparently decided it was time for me to do so, and it put this book forward as a recommendation when I was ordering some comics (difficult to get from a local retailer in our small community). The book originally came out in 1988 but was reprinted in 2010. Even leg warmers have resurfaced, so it makes some sense.
I thought I had read all of McInerny's work when it originally came out, but somehow this novel seemed unfamilar to me when reading about it--enough for me to add it to my book order. And, as I read through it, it seemed both unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time. It's not that the details of narrator Alison Poole's life were so familar as to make me recognize I had, indeed, read the book. Instead, the story of the over-sexed, overly-high, overly-privileged culture she was immersed in seemed familiar. And even if these overlys weren't in your 80s experience, the entire tone of the book and attitudes of the characters are reminiscent of the period itself. It's quintessential McInerney, and a good read for those not afraid of looking back to see where we were for a brief time.
This past October, three Redwood Writing Project colleagues and I attended the Computer Using Educators (CUE) conference in American Canyon. In addition to picking up some great tech tips and new app recommendations in workshops, I had the opportunity to attend the keynote given by Jonathan Bergmann. I was looking forward to the session, as I had been hearing about the "flipped" classroom for the past year or so but hadn't had the chance to look more deeply into the concept. Bergmann and Sams, while not really inventors of the flipped classoom, are two teachers considered to be leading experts; they've put the name to the practice, have extensive experience using and refining it in their own classrooms, and are actively sharing their knowledge with other teachers in both print and face-to-face venues. Bergmann was engaging, intelligent, and motivating. I bought the book.
During finals week I had a bit of down time, and the book was sitting on my office desk waiting for the right time. I picked it up, started reading, and was immediately attracted to the possibility of using the flipped-classroom approach for a new class I'll be teaching this coming Fall: the first of a new two-semester freshman composition class we'll be offering at HSU. The concept of the flipped classroom is quite simple: rather than lecturing or providing students with content in class and then having them do homework to reinforce it, the content presentation occurs out of class (through video, most frequently) and students do their work in class. Bergmann and Sams are math and science teachers, so for them this means that students watch short lectures and content reviews on videos on their computers, phones, or other media; when they come to class, they begin by getting their questions answered and then work on science experiments or math problems, take tests, hold discussions, and complete the other things they would have usually done on their own. The premise is that it's during this work time that students most need teacher support: to answer questions, explain concepts, etc. When those things are done in the classroom instead of at home, response is immediate and students continue on their work rather than quitting when they hit a wall. Another layer can also be added to the mix if desired: a flipped mastery classroom, in which students have set objectives and work at their own pace to accomplish them.
Even though spring semester is not underway, I'm already thinking forward to fall, so this week I finished reading this book and am considering how flipped teaching would work in the composition classroom. In many ways it seems like returning to a writers workshop model, with technology enhancements for the mini-lesson and resource-topic components. If my students did their reading and watched short videos about research, revision, and writing strategies outside of the classroom, in class we could break into groups for peer response, discussion of reading, student-teacher conferencing, and individual research and drafting sessions. This semester I'm giving some thought as to how this would actually be structured and paced--and I'm giving the book to my colleague Nicolette in hopes she'll be interested in joining me in the project. I figure it would be more interesting for students to have access to videos and materials produced by the two of us instead of one person (Sams and Bergmann collaborated to create their videos), and we could spend time this summer preparing for our fall class offerings.
As far as this book goes, it's a nice, quick read (112 pages, including Q & A and example stories), provides the basic premise and rationale regarding the flipped classroom, and offers guidance as to how to get started. I recommend it for teachers of any discipline interested in technology, student-centered classrooms, and/or project-based education.
Over the winter break, I set out to catch up on the comic series I neglected in the second half of last year. I've accomplished that task, and, while I have a few new series to take a look at in the coming weeks, I decided it's time to ease back into some (mostly) non-illustrated stories. Lest the shock be too abrupt, I've identified the perfect transition: a TweenLit book I borrowed from a colleague's eight-year-old son in September; it has chapters and lots of words, but it still sports a number of good illustrations. And, I figure that if a cool kid like Hank likes it, there's a good chance I will as well.
And like it, I did. The book is action-packed to say the least, with each chapter including an entire adventure, unusual characters, exciting chases, and new environments. The protagonist driving all this action if Twig, a boy who has always been an outsider among his (?) woodtroll people and is sent into the Deepwoods upon reaching adulthood. His mom thinks it will be the best thing for him to go live with his uncle in another woodtroll village, but Twig does the unthinkable: he steps off the path. And into a world of adventure.
The book is filled with a series of animals and beasts of all sorts: Hover Worms, Slaughterers, Skullpelts, carnivorous Bloodoak trees, Gyle Goblins, Banderbears, Termagent Trogs, and--the creatures all the preceding are terrified of-- Gloamglozers. With each chapter, Twig encounters a new species--some friend, some foe, but all unexpected. Finally, though, toward the end of the book, the fabled Sky Pirates appear, and Twig's life is changed forever. Or so, I'm assuming readers will learn in book two of The Edge Chronicles.
I'm not certain that I'll be reading on in this series, but not because the first book wasn't good. It's actually excellent, but more appropriate for its intended Tween audience. As I told my sister Sarah, for an adult reader the pace and storyline are almost too exciting. Things happen with great speed and new characters pop up everywhere, and it's a bit too much for this forty-something-year-old reader to deal with. However, if you have a child or work with kids between the ages of 6-10, this series is one you should definitely pick up. It would make for a great read-aloud option, as each chapter is a nice length and tells an entire adventure--perfect for nightly or classroom reading. I think both girls and boys will enjoy it, but it definitely leans toward the male end of things (monsters and pirates, after all) if you're trying to entice boys to read.
Many folks are familiar with The Walking Dead television show that debuted on AMC in the fall of 2010 with a
short 6-episode season that has been renewed for two longer seasons
since then. A portion of those viewers may know that the show is
actually based on this graphic novel series, but I'm guessing that even fewer of those people have actually read the comics. I'm on the other end of the spectrum: a long-time reader of the comics that has not yet watched the TV show. It's in my sights, and I've recently set our DVR to record episodes that play, but I am still resistant of watching the TV show. Like most book-to-movie leaps, it has the danger of being disappointing: characters who aren't the way I imagined, changed plot lines, and too much focus on different elements.
And, quite frankly, I'm pretty happy with the way The Walking Dead comic series has developed. Sure, a lot of folks may dismiss it as just another of many things written about zombies, but it might be worth pointing out that the book really isn't about zombies: it's about humans managing to live in a world where zombies exist, and that's not a very easy thing to do. As a result, the characters developed in this series are interesting, resourceful, violent, and loving. Sure, I can get all metaphorical about the idea that all of us face zombies of some sort at some point of our life--and many are unfortunate enough to face off against monstrous things for long periods of time. But, you, my readers, are intelligent humans and know this already.
By this point in time, the series is well underway, and volume 17 passes the magical 100-issue mark. I have reviews of a couple earlier trades posted here and here, but I was already on to volume 13 by the time I started this blog. You're simply going to have to trust me on the fact that this series is worth the time and effort involved. Plus, you won't have to wait between issues and trades if you do start now: you have an entire 102 issues to enjoy. Unless you're afraid, of course.
A little over a year ago, I wrote a relatively sheepish review of the previous two volumes of this comic, confessing that I was a bit embarrassed that it was in my repertoire. However, after catching up on the two most recent trades, I have a hard time understanding my own feelings at the time. This is, in truth, a beautifully conceived story, with a diverse array of well-developed characters and remarkable art. The themes of human endurance, childhood resilience, and reinventing oneself are thoughtfully explored. So what if there are hybrid animal-human children? They simply represent the parts of all of us that we hide from others.
Gus and his hybrid cohort don't have that luxury of hiding what is different about then, but as the series continues, it becomes apparent that that might be preferable. After all, it makes it pretty clear from the start just what kind of folks Gus and his friends--human and hybrid--are dealing with when they encounter new people. In Volume 4, the group of five human adults and three hybrid kids heads north to Alaska, rumored to be the origin of the sickness that is killing all humans and creating hybrid children. Along the way, they encounter potential allies and are tempted to give up their quest. In volume 5, Lemire explores the early history of the sickness and more recent history of several of the characters, furthering our connection to the plot and its people. Like most comics both written and drawn by the same person, there is a unity and continuity here that is hard to match in collaborative projects. The premise seems far-reaching and has lots of room to grow, and I, for one, will follow it until the end.
Before reading this review, take a minute to read my review of the previous two trades, available at this link. As I explain there, this comic is one I really love, even though a war comic--depicting a second American Civil War taking place in the years after 9/11--doesn't really seem to be my cup of tea. However, Wood's excellent storytelling and Burchielli's gritty and intense artwork create a compelling and thought-provoking alternate reality, in a genre appropriately labeled "poli-fi" by the author of volume 12's introduction.
Volume 11 opens with Wood taking us back to the events that led up to the civil war, filling in some details I had always wondered about. Journalist Matty Roth is reunited with some old friends in the second half of the trade, and rumors of peace and a truce are flourishing. In Volume 12, Matty actively works to see those rumors come to fruition, tying together many storylines we've encountered throughout the 72-issue run. Sadly enough, volume 12 also marks the conclusion of this series. It's always disappointing to see the end of a good comic, but I also appreciate authors who have a sense of story and know when theirs has run its course. I'll be watching out for Wood's next project, and I look forward to dinging out what unexpected places he draws me into next.
Vertigo is one of my favorite comic publishers, so I often check out their booth at Comic Con or scan the spines of trades at comic book stores in search of their logo. They generally publish smart comics with excellent stories and art work, and The Unwritten is a good example of what I can expect from their label. I started reading this series early in its inception, but I fell a bit behind after volume three. It was nice to have the time to get caught up again by immersing myself in trades four through six over the winter break.
I've written reviews of trades two (click here for link) and three (here) in earlier years: my review of trade two is pretty brief, but trade three does a pretty good job filling in the premise, so it's worth reading before continuing. As the saga continues, Tom Taylor and his friends Lizzie and Ricki continue their quest to escape the Cabal--an organization set on controlling and gaining power from the written word--and understand the ways in which Tom is able to tap into that power to enter and create stories himself. Volume four brings an interesting cross-section of stories featuring whales, providing the opportunity for Ahab, Job, Sinbad, and others to meet an interact. Volume five delves into the golden age of comic books to answers to Tom's past--making use of several pulp genres to tell individual tales in single issues. And, in volume six, Tom uncovers enough of his past to take the fight directly to the cabal. What he'll do with what he learns remains to be seen.
All in all, The Unwritten is a great comic for lovers of story and myth and believers in the power of words. If you haven't yet started the series, I highly encourage you to do so.
I picked up the first trade of Locke & Key at one of the first two Comic Cons I attended. Like a lot of my early comics, I started it because my sister Sarah recommended it. I remember finding the series interesting, and I read the first two volumes relatively quickly, but as I picked up more and more comics of my own, this one got side tracked a bit. However, at Comic Con 2012 I encountered Joe Hill, author of the series, when I attended a panel he sat on with Margaret Atwood (my favorite author of all time). I found him funny and interesting, so I decided to attend the panel he and Gabriel Rodroguez were holding and reacquaint myself with Locke and Key. Seeing the dynamic relationship and enthusiasm the pair had for the series--as well as how much the attendees admired the series--resparked my interest in reading it. Just after Christmas, I received a big box of comics I had ordered from Amazon, and volumes 3 and 4 were among them. Since it has been some time since I read the first two volumes, I decided to begin anew and read the series from the beginning.
Locke & Key is a horror comic that tells the story of a family beset by tragedy, beginning with the death of the male head of household. The first volume of the comic sets the premise, wherein a mother and her three children move to the east coast to live in a huge old house, full of mysteries. The mysteries relate to a collection of keys hidden throughout the house that open doors in unexpected ways. For instance, the first key young Bode finds and uses opens the Ghost Door: pass through it, and your ghost leaves your body and can travel unseen just about anywhere; return through the door and into your body. Each volume of the series focuses on a different key, woven within an overall story of magic, horror, violence, intrigue, and everyday life. The tale is extremely well told, and the premise that adults are unable to see and/or accept as real any of the magic created by the keys raises questions about imagination, age, and the line between real and imagined. Rodrigiez's art is beautifully detailed, providing a believable setting for improbable events. I'm happy I reconnected with Locke and Key, and I recommend it to mystery and horror enthusiasts.
My sister Sarah introduced me to Mouse Guard at the 2008 Comic Con, when she insisted we visit David Petersen in Artist Alley. I'm happy for her commitment as well, since the Mouse Guard series is one of the most charming and beautifully illustrated comics that I read. We've stopped to see David at every Con we have attended, and he's a nice guy with wonderful stories and products; you can often see me sporting a Mouse Guard t-shirt in my leisure time, and there is a board game for those who might be interested.
Petersen is both author and artist of Mouse Guard, and this goes a long way toward explaining the tightly-interwoven plot and complimentary artwork. Additional strengths are the regular use of songs, legends, and literature created for the mouse world, giving it a rich history and cultural depth. Of all the comic series I read, it's also the only one I would recommend as being suitable for all ages: young kids will love the detailed mouse, weasel, rabbit, bat, and bird characters that populate this world; older readers will further enjoy the tales of struggle and heroicism that the Mouse Guard--a middle-ages-style military force that keeps its citizens safe from external predators and internal intrigue--documents within
these seasonal collections. There are two larger collections (Autumn and Winter), as well as two shorter collections of spin-off story lines; all will charm and entertain you.
Every time I pick up a new trade of this series, I consider going back to the beginning to read it again--perhaps a bit more carefully. It's complex plot and large cast of characters make it challenging to keep track of of what's happening. When getting screenshots of the cover photos from Amazon to make this entry, I found that my feelings are not unique. Customer reviewer Garietta Falls said, "I really liked this series in the beginning, but I am beginning to
wonder what the point is. The story, concerning Fig usually, makes large
jumps that are hard to follow." In Volume 7, the story quite literally jumps, as the house lifts off its foundation, leaving everyone but Fig and Cain behind. This provides the opportunity--or, as it so often turns out in House of Mystery, the challenge--of following multiple plot lines within what would more usually be a single story arc. In this case, we alternate between Fig and Cain's struggle through a series of increasingly smaller houses that reveal parts of her earlier life; the choices the characters left behind make in order to occupy their time and continue their lives; the efforts of her (estranged, and possibly dead) brother, father, and grandfather to find (and maybe kill?) their sister/daughter/granddaughter; and the origins of the still bizarre and increasingly confusing, creepy couple called the Conception. It's become equal parts confusing and compelling. Another Amazon customer reviewer, Jason Upton, explained, "The story started strong and now feels like there's no plan. It jumps
around without following the stories teased out. I'm hoping the next
one is better or I'll have to move on." I'm right there with him.
In fact, I'm just starting Volume 8 now, so you'll have to wait a short time to see what I conclude!
Update: It looks like Garietta, John, and I were not alone in our struggles to stay engaged in an increasingly pointless plot. Volume 8 of House of Mystery starts out with a typed summary of all seven previous trade collections, hitting on the main points that create a consistent storyline--but leaving a heck of a lot out. When it gets boiled down this way, it easier to see what the underlying premise is. However, it would have been much simpler to keep that idea at the forefront all along rather than cluttering it up with extraneous side plots. As it turns out, I need not worry about whether or not to continue with the series, as Volume 8 appears to be the end. And, while I can't say that it was tied up nice and neatly, at least there was an effort to conclude in come way that made sense of the whole thing. Overall, I wouldn't recommend this series unless you are a diehard horror comic fan, and even then I'd say you may want to stop after trade 3 or 4--when the ideas are still fresh and interesting but haven;t yet become a tangled mess.
Without question, this is the funniest comic series that I read. (If you are unfamiliar with it, you can check out the backstory--as well as an explanation of my start as a comic reader--in my review of the third voume of the series at this link.) After my sister Sarah and I laughed our way through a Chew panel featuring Layman and Guillory at the 2013 Comic Con in San Diego, it's clear to see why the absurd plot of this comic works so well: these two guys love what they do and they have fun doing it. While the two did not know each other before the collaboration and conduct their work through text and email for the most part, when chatting and answering questions at the Con, they cracked jokes, finished each others sentences, and let their imaginations run. In addition to a fun session, it was an excellent example of a creative partnership that really works.
In Volume 4 of Chew, Tony and John continue to work cases but are increasingly frustrated that resources are diverted from the FDA to other agencies investigating the flaming letters in the earth's atmosphere. Regardless, they continue to track down poultry abusers everywhere, enduring the dangers of high-school food fights, botched USDA raids (whose agents are comprosed almost 100% of huge-breasted women), and NASA researchers. The fact that the terrorosts dress like mimes and the world is saved by a kick-ass secret-weapon names Poyo are just a few of the hilarities of this volume.
In Volume 5, Tony's boss at the FDA achieves his long-time goal and has Tony transfered out of the agency. As a kilt-wearing traffic cop, Tony may lack prestige, but he impresses his boss and co-workers by solving a robbery case. The glory doesn't last long, though, before he is kidnapped and forced to help his girlfriend's ex achieve his long-time quest of documenting the secret sex lives of baseball stars. Along the way, Tony's daughter Olive is recruited to use her cibopathic powers and John plies his charms with his new (grey-haired and wrinkly but still hugely-endowed) boss at the USDA to get a surprising new partner.
Chew's a fun romp, and one that will be enjoyed by those who both love food and have a strong stomach. Bon appetite!
Brian K. Vaughan is one of my favorite comic authors, perhaps because I encountered his work toward the beginning of my comic-reading career. Two Vaughan series in particular--Y: The Last Man, which follows the life of Yorrick Brown, last man alive after a virus targeting only males attacks the earth; and Runaways, charting the adventures of a group of teens who turn into superheroes after learning that their parents are super villains--top my list of comic favorites. Both series, as well as his Ex Machina series (review here) following Mitchell Hundred, architect-turned-superhero-turned-NYC-mayor by way of a freak accident giving him the ability to talk to machines which he uses to prevent the second twin tower from collapsing on 9/11, have concluded. So, when I learned that Vaughan had another series in progress, I knew I had to add it to my ever-growing list of comics to follow.
Not content to chart the lives of unusual humans in unlikely circumstances, in Saga Vaughan enters another world--or worlds, as the case may be--and introduces the plight of characters of a non-human nature. A never-ending inter-galactic war is taking place, in which beings from two worlds have taken their battle across the galaxy to involve other beings in the fight. In the middle of it are Marko and Alana, lovers from either side of the lines who have taken flight to give birth to Hazel, who has her mother's wings and her father's horns. Lest the precedent be set for cross-species love, the aristocratic caste from Landfall (who sport TV monitors as heads) send an envoy to the destroy the young couple; Freelancers have also been called to assassinate the couple--by none other than Marko's own people, in punishment for his betrayal of their kind.
So, Hazel and her folks clearly have the deck stacked against them from the start. It makes for a fast-paced race across space and time, with a whole cast of incredibly-imaginative species introduced. The first story arc does a good job introducing readers to this new world--enough so that I look forward to future releases with great anticipation.
Note: When adding labels to my post, I realized that Staples is the artist for another comic that I enjoyed. Entitled the Mystery Society (and reviewed here), it had only a 5-issue run. Here's hoping this collaboration lasts longer!
These are the third and fourth trades in the American Vampire comic series, so it's a good idea to check out my reviews of the first two volumes at this link if you're interested in the saga's background. (Reviews will be in reverse order, so start at the bottom of the page for the earliest.) Asa I explained earlier, I originally picked up the first trade because Stephen King was involved, but the series continued on (improved) without him in the second volume and continues to build strength in these collections. One other thing I really like about the series is that each trade consists of 7-9 single issues--often comprising two story arcs--which makes the investment in the hardcover releases less daunting.
Volume 3 begins with a single issue starring Skinner Sweet, the first vampire of the American species, who settles some scores in the old west. From there, we move forward in time to World War II, first with a story arc entitled "Ghost War" starring Pearl (Skinner's first offspring), her husband Henry Preston (of the non-vampiric persuasion), and Skinner Sweet. In this tale, the Japanese are breeding a line of vampires to take on the Allied forces, and Henry and Sweet (posing as a human soldier) are dropped onto the breeding island with a special force to battle the evil military scientists. Of course, as these things go, even if this wasn't Japan, it would be an island, wouldn't it? Where would evil scientists be without islands?
The second story arc in Volume 3, entitled "Survival of the Fittest," involves the same war and the Axis/vampire alliances, but this time a couple years earlier--and behind the German lines. I mean, if the Japanese are breeding vampires, we must assume that the Nazis have even more diabolical plans. In this case, two agents working for the Vassals of the Morning Star--a secret agency seeking to eliminate vampires--head to Berlin under the premise of supporting the research of Dr. Pavel, rumored to be developing a cure for vampirism. Their cover is easily blown, and the two enter into a fight for their lives--and likely the lies of all of humanity.
Volume 4 includes stories told in three distinct American time periods: the mid to late 19th century, when pre-vampiric Skinner Sweet was a boy; the late 18th century when the west was being explored; and the 1950s, with new music and big cars. Throughout the book, we're introduced to both a Native American and African American vampire, learn Sweet's origins, and meet a rebel-without-a-cause vampire hunter. One of the things I love about this series is the recursive storylines which move forward and back in time to fill in pieces of the stories that have not yet been told. Albuquerque's artwork is amazing as well, creating distinct settings and scenes across the time periods that assist the reader in making shifts in time. This is both a beautiful comic with a complex plot, and one I highly recommend.
