Graphic Novel Review - Penny Arcade Volume 6: The Halls Below, by Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik

I’ve been a dedicated Penny Arcade reader since before they were Internet rock stars with their own convention, children’s charity, webseries, and video games. As such, it’s not so odd that I’ve only picked up a print version of the comic at the publication of book six, seeing as how I’ve already read every single strip. Should I feel the urge to go back and reread, these strips are still all available for free online. The value of this book is in the added features, just as it would be for a DVD: new commentaries on each comic, slick packaging (though not as slick as previous editions, I am told), and extra content at the end. I’m an enthusiastic fan, so I’m pretty easy to please, but these added features should be enough to sway any fan of the series.

This is not a graphic novel, but a more traditional collection of comic strips with occasional spurts of continuity. For the uninitiated, Penny Arcade is a hilariously crass webcomic that revolves around two gamer protagonists, Gabe and Tycho, along with a revolving misfit cast of recurring characters. Gabe and Tycho are rough analogs of the two personalities behind the comic: artist Mike Krahulik and writer Jerry Holkins, respectively. The humor is a little inside; working knowledge of gaming culture and at least a passing familiarity with current gaming news is usually necessary to get the jokes, though there are occasional exceptions. However, the often obscene strips have a lot to offer for anybody who has an appreciation for the absurd, especially if you enjoy dark sarcasm, snappy dialogue (Holkins/Tycho is an unabashed logophile that uses a symphonic vocabulary both in the strip and in the accompanying commentary), or, well, poop jokes.

This volume collects all the strips published in 2005, and although I think 2004’s bouquet might be a little more piquant, this was a pretty good year for Penny Arcade and its readers. I’m especially fond of Krahulik’s art in this period, although I think that might just be nostalgia talking. Penny Arcade has existed for over a decade now, and the artwork has evolved along with Krahulik over that period. The latest change has occurred in the past year or so, with the characters beginning to look increasingly like they were drawn by John Kricfalusi. Now, I will concede that it is a fascinating exercise to watch an artist try new things and incorporate their various influences into their work as they mature. But I’ve never liked John Kricfalusi's artwork, and so I’m feeling a little sullen about the new look. This book covers the heyday of the clean, angular art that drew so many people to Penny Arcade in the first place, and I really enjoy the novelty of having prints from that time period, if not for entirely objective reasons.

The actual content from this year included more hits than misses, and introduced more than one long-standing character or meme. The Merch is a notable exception, but I’m heartened by Holkins’ commentaries on these strips, which seem to indicate that he was as skeptical of that particular angle as I was. Balancing that out in this volume are two classic, fantastic subplots: Annarchy, and the Elemenstor Saga. The first involves a rare bit of story continuity revolving around Tycho’s eleven-year-old niece Ann, providing a surprisingly funny and poignant take on both Tycho and on Penny Arcade’s general content. Annarchy is living proof that a warm, fuzzy teddy bear lives deep inside a lot of cynical, foul-mouthed gamers like me. The second started as an obscure one-off comic and sparse wiki, and through the machinations of the Penny Arcade fanbase became a sprawling faux-franchise, allegedly covering over a dozen novels, two animated series, and a collectible card game. This meta-narrative is admittedly a little hard to appreciate, being that it lives mostly outside of the actual comic and is purposefully obtuse and ridiculous. However, anybody that has ever read a licensed fantasy novel or attempted to immerse themselves in the lore of an RPG or CCG will find this absolutely hilarious. The premium content at the back of the book is devoted to the Elemenstor Saga, consisting of an introduction to the joke’s concept and some excerpts of the vast fan-authored wiki page. My only disappointment is that The Halls Below doesn’t really cover the second half of this enormous in-joke: the rival “franchise” Song of the Sorcelator, and its flamboyant mastermind, L. H. Franzibald. Yes, it's as funny as it sounds.

It’s kind of hard to recommend this to curious readers who aren’t already familiar with Penny Arcade, since the actual website is the best place for that. But speaking as a longtime fan of the strip, this is a nice little curio, and worth buying just for the additional commentary on each strip.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Book Review - His Majesty's Dragon, by Naomi Novik

I think that most of the fantasy I’ve been reading lately has been taking itself quite seriously. Lots of death, sex, political intrigue, and bleak futures. The first book in Novik’s Temeraire series is exactly what I needed: a fresh take on a well-worn fantasy trope that doesn’t need high-minded literary aspirations due to it being so fun to read. Not to say that it isn’t literary either; His Majesty’s Dragon is a pretty great work of fantasy fiction.

This first book introduces the reader to William Lawrence, a sea captain in the Royal Navy. The books take place in an alternate version of Europe during the Napoleonic Wars, where dragons not only exist but are fairly common, and a key element of most nations’ military forces. After a quick battle with a weakened French ship, Lawrence recovers a prize of great value: a dragon egg, ready to hatch. The intelligent animal unexpectedly picks Lawrence to bond with; duty compels Lawrence to leave his beloved ship and become an aviator, simply for the sake of putting another British dragon in the skies. However, his initial reluctance to leave his sheltered life as an officer and gentleman to become a social pariah (as most aviators usually are in this England) quickly fades, as he begins to form his own bond with the unique black dragon, who he has named Temeraire after the famous Royal ship of the line. Lawrence and Temeraire’s training progresses quickly due to the dragon’s extraordinary intelligence and unique flying abilities, but a clever plan by Napoleon to invade England forces them into action, and unveils some startling truths about what Temeraire is and where he came from.

The entire book rests on the relationship between Lawrence and Temeraire, and it does so comfortably. Both are excellent, sympathetic characters. Lawrence’s stilted manners and fish-out-of-water naiveté contrasts perfectly with Temeraire’s wide-eyed innocence and occasional childish enthusiasm, making them an easy pair to like and root for. Admittedly, though, their relationship does take some getting used to. Between the histrionics each goes into at any perceived threat towards the other and Lawrence’s baffling tendency to refer to Temeraire as “my dear,” there are some initial overtones of gay man-dragon love. But as the book progresses, Novik does a fantastic job of defining the strong, unique relationships between the captains and their sentient dragons. I perceived it as a mix of the feelings a person would have towards a child and a particularly loved pet. In any event, once the initial “wtf?” feeling wears off, it is written well enough to make some of the scenes between the dragons and their respective people heart-wrenching, if occasionally too sentimental.

As with any good alternate history that takes place in wartime, the battles are the highlights of this book. Novik eschews the “dragon-rider” approach, and instead puts forth the notion that dragons can support actual crews of various sizes, who operate much like naval crews of the time would. Thus, each battle scene mixes the tense, orderly progression of a naval clash with the chaos of aerial warfare. Also, we’re talking about dragons that can do cool dragon things like spit acid and claw things apart. It really doesn’t get much cooler than that.

The story is probably the weakest element of the book, in that it’s understated and doesn’t take a whole lot of surprising turns. This book has a distinct “introductory” feel, meaning that the establishment of the characters takes precedence over the actual plot. This doesn’t actually cause any problems for the majority of the book, since the world and characters are so interesting that the story shines in a bit of their reflected light. However, the ending retains that simplicity; once the final twist is revealed, everything resolves itself with simplicity that strains credulity. Considering the buildup to the climactic scenes, I simply don’t buy how things turned out.

The ending was almost unsatisfying enough for me to knock a point off, but I had so much fun reading this book that I decided to let it go. This is good, solid fantasy. I’ve never been a dragon guy; I’ll admit to never having read a Pern book despite being a longtime sci-fi and fantasy reader. So, I can’t really speak to how His Majesty’s Dragon holds up to other books in the dragon genre, assuming that there is such a thing as a “dragon genre.” But I can overwhelmingly recommend this book for fantasy readers, alternate history readers, and those with a penchant for wartime or historical fiction that don’t mind some flights of fancy. I’ve already bought the next two; I’m sold.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Graphic Novel Review: Kill Shakespeare Vol. 1, by Conor McCreery, Andy Belanger, and Anthony Del Col

I heard about this graphic novel on NPR, which made my responsible adult side feel better about reading graphic novels, and my inner child feel better about listening to NPR. Being what I’d call a casual fan of Shakespeare, it sounded like something that would be right up my alley. After reading through the first volume, I can say that I like it, but it’s not as good as I was hoping it would be.

The story picks up somewhere around the third act of Hamlet, with the Danish prince sailing off into exile rather than being sung to his rest by flights of angels. After being haunted by some familiar witches, he is cast overboard and finds himself on a strange, faraway shore, where he is greeted by everyone’s favorite gruff king with a withered hand. Richard III proclaims Hamlet to be the “Shadow King,” a figure spoken of in legend that is destined to kill a mysterious demigod known as “Shakespeare” and claim the power of his magical quill. Richard promises to bring Hamlet’s father back to him if he fulfills his destiny, but Hamlet eventually finds himself lost and alone in the countryside. A loose band of commoners opposed to Richard’s tyranny (including Falstaff, Othello, and Juliet) try to persuade Hamlet to join them, as Richard conspires with the seductive Lady Macbeth to bring the Shadow King back into his grasp.

So, the riot of Shakespeare characters assuming new personas and taking sides is enough by itself to make this volume worth checking out. I suppose that you could find yourself annoyed by the liberties taken with the Bard’s stories if you were a diehard Shakespeare nut, but I thought the reimagined relationships and alliances were deliciously fun to read. Furthermore, the proper Shakespearean tone has been set; gratuitous violence, sexual innuendo, and bad puns are all firmly in evidence.

Once the initial awesome factor wore off, though, a few things began to bother me. The story moves so quickly that there isn’t a whole lot of time to take anything in. There is a lot of reliance on the numerous cameos to move the story along (I'm not even sure why the scene with Puck was even remotely necessary), and so the plot feels a little clunky and contrived. Not to the point of being bad, but there’s definitely a “serial” feel to the volume.

The biggest problem I had, though, is with the artwork. I don’t usually get hung up on art, being the forgiving guy that I am. But honestly, I had trouble trying to puzzle out exactly what was going on at some points. The flow of the panels will often change unexpectedly, without any particular narrative reason or clearly defined map of the proceedings, forcing me to occasionally reread a few panels after getting lost. Also, abrupt shifts in setting are frequent in each chapter (especially after Hamlet takes up with the Prodigals and the narrative splits off into two branches), making it occasionally hard to figure out what’s happening even when the panel flow stays consistent. Finally, and maybe this is just me: there’s something off about the faces. The expressions are not quite real. The characters are gorgeous, and standard dialogue looks just fine, but every single reaction shot looks waaaaay overdone. As in, giant eyes, gaping mouth, parody-of-an-actual-facial-expression overdone. I feel like I’m being a touch unfair, here, because the art is very good from a technical standpoint; Belanger is no slouch. But something about the expressions just didn’t resonate for me. The characters came off as a little cartoonish, somehow. That normally wouldn’t bother me, but in this instance it just contrasted too much with the Shakespearean motif.

So, chalk this one up as a solid "acceptable," for me. Maybe not fantastic, but still pretty good.

Verdict: 3 / 5

Book Review - Zombies vs. Unicorns, ed. by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier

Zombies or unicorns: which is superior?!

It’s the…

…the eternal question… ?

The title and premise of the collection was enough to attract my interest. Of course, zombies are better. I mean, seriously, unicorns? Does that even need to be explained? I had to get more on the particulars of that debate. Also, I was goaded into action after reading about somebody somewhere that tried to get this book off of a library shelf, because it allegedly features a gay zombie and unicorn bestiality. Awesome, right? Turns out, there is indeed a gay zombie (who stars in one of the best stories in the collection), and unicorn-boning is marginally more creepy than zombie-boning, which if not technically present is at least heavily implied. With that established, I can wholeheartedly vouch for this entire collection. Even the unicorn-boning.

The collection is edited by two YA authors, Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier. The stories are introduced with their respective commentaries on the debate, with Black establishing herself as a unicorn enthusiast contrasted to Larbalestier’s steadfast support for the undead. Each has enlisted a team of like-minded YA authors to support their cause, which include rock stars like Garth Nix, Scott Westerfeld, Meg Cabot, and Libba Bray, among others. Each team’s stories are then presented in alternating order, with little icons at the top to denote their respective content/allegiances. Furthermore, the editors preface each story with a mix of folkloric background and hilarious snarking at each other.

So, obviously, zombies win, but the unicorn stories are fantastic. Between zombies being the paranormal flavor of the week and the existence of an exhaustive back-catalog of zombie fare, the edgy takes on unicorns were fresh and interesting by comparison. In fact, my favorite story in the collection was Kathleen Duey’s tale of an amoral beast searching for release from its instincts.

Generally speaking, though, the zombie stories are just as original and interesting. Libba Bray’s entry, the final story in the collection, is fantastic enough to demand its own full-length novel. And while I may have my issues with Carrie Ryan’s sulky, mascara-running zombie poutfests, she’s in fantastic form here. Maybe it has something to do with time of exposure, for me; what came off as unnecessary angst in her otherwise great novels seemed to enhance the grim, bittersweet mood in her short story.

The collection has the same peaks and valleys in consistency that all short-story compilations have to deal with, but while there were one or two stories here that didn’t really do anything for me, there’s nothing that I would categorize as weak or not pulling its weight, even when comparing to the ones I liked. Both teams perform admirably, and are likely to make unexpected fans of readers that venture in with their preconceived notions firmly entrenched. Furthermore, this is definitely a book that is meant for older teens, as it deals with some pretty mature themes. By extension, it’s a perfect choice for adult readers who enjoy plot-centric teen lit, if the cast of contributing authors isn’t enough to convince you.

It must be said that, as a thirty-year-old man, carrying around a book called Zombies vs. Unicorns isn’t something I’d normally be proud of, and the instinct to proclaim its virtues would usually be curbed in place of quietly admitting it as a guilty pleasure. Further, it must be said that this isn’t anything that’s going to blow a reader’s mind. But this collection is too much fun. I couldn’t even bring myself to search for nits to pick like I usually do, because I was too busy enjoying tales about killer unicorns and the zombie apocalypse. I guess I could complain about this weird obsession that paranormal and urban fantasy authors have with interspecies romance, but honestly, that’s barely even surprising at this point. This collection is obviously not for readers who take themselves or their books too seriously, but I’d recommend it to anybody who likes zombies, teen lit, fantasy, or just has a taste for something offbeat. It’s hilarious and genuinely creepy by turns, and it's crewed by a seriously talented group of authors.

Verdict: 5 / 5

Teen Booklist - Mysteries

I spent May getting ready for Summer Reading, and was out of bright ideas for teen displays, so I settled on a time-tested genre display. I've never been much of a mystery reader, but inheriting a mystery book club has expanded my horizons a bit, and this list reflects that. I tried to include a little from different mystery subtypes: whodunits, thrillers, paranormal mysteries, fiction with mystery overtones, and of course, the ever-popular "problem novels" that happen to include a mystery as a central plot point.

• The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie
• The Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle
• Shine, by Lauren Myracle
• The Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin, by Josh Berk
• Pretty Little Liars, by Sara Shepard
• Lily Dale: Awakening, by Wendy Corsi Staub
• The Christopher Killer, by Alane Ferguson
• Hoot, by Carl Hiaasen
• All Unquiet Things, by Anna Jarzab
• Acceleration, by Graham MacNamee
• Eye of the Crow, by Shane Peacock
• The Uninvited, by Tim Wynne-Jones
• Kill Game, by Francine Pascal
• The Big Splash, by Jack D. Ferraiolo
• Last Shot: A Final Four Mystery, by John Feinstein
• I, Q: Independence Hall, by Roland Smith
• Finding Lubchenko, by Michael Simmons
• Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City, by Kirsten Miller
• The Agency: A Spy in the House, by Y. S. Lee
• The Falconer's Knot, by Mary Hoffman
• Rosebush, by Michele Jaffe
• Searching for Yesterday, by Valerie Sherrard
• The Bone Magician, by F. E. Higgins
• Kiss Me Kill Me, by Lauren Henderson
• Canned, by Alex Shearer
• The Death Collector, by Justin Richards
• The Chaos Code, by Justin Richards
• Paper Daughter, by Jeanette Ingold
• Dream Girl, by Lauren Mechling
• Agnes Quill: An Anthology of Mystery, edited
• The Mystery of the Third Lucretia, by Susan Runholt
• Torchwood: Another Life, by Peter Anghelides
• Endymion Spring, by Matthew Skelton
• Jack: Secret Histories, by F. Paul Wilson
• Res Judicata, by Vicki Grant
• Beautiful Dead: Jonas, by Eden Maguire
• The Hanging Woods, by Scott Loring Sanders
• Getting the Girl: A Guide to Private Investigation, Surveillance, and Cookery, by Susan Juby

Book Review - Artemis Fowl, by Eoin Colfer

It’s been kind of amazing seeing the scramble to find the next Harry Potter. The Artemis Fowl series is one of the contenders I’ve heard bandied about, especially since there’s been talk of a movie being made. I was hesitant to pick up another pretender to the throne, especially considering the bile that rises in my throat every time someone compares Twilight to Harry Potter, or the fun-but-not-quite-my-speed experience that was the first Septimus Heap book. I finally read Artemis Fowl after snapping up an electronic version for free, and while I definitely liked it, I don’t know if I loved it.

The premise of the book, generally speaking, is fantastic. Artemis Fowl is the archetypical precocious boy genius, yes. But he also happens to be a criminal mastermind. With his father missing and his mother caught in a rapidly degenerating mental fugue, Fowl is in a state of desperation. He hatches an outlandish plan to return his fallen family to their former glory, and it involves the People (who humans have always known as fairies, trolls, leprechauns, and other figments of tall tales and dreams). Through trickery and bribery, Fowl manages to get his hands on a copy of The Book, which outlines the rules of fairy magic down to the smallest detail. Armed with forbidden knowledge, Fowl sets upon achieving something that no human has ever done before: to kidnap a fairy, and successfully walk away with a fortune in fairy gold as ransom.

The fact that the story’s protagonist is also the villain excites me to levels that I can’t quite put words to, as I’ve always been partial to villains. A good villain is good because they have motives and rationales that justify their heinous acts, and Fowl is no exception. Ostensibly, Fowl is attempting to replenish his family’s fortune, and re-establish the notoriety of its name. However, he is also a 12-year-old boy who misses his dad and wants his mom to be well, and that lies at the heart of everything he does. It makes for a great character, especially for teen lit. The fact that Fowl is the antagonist splits up the narrative in a strange way, but the multiple “heroes” in the book complement each other quite nicely. In fact, the characters are the best thing about this book, with each being distinct and likeable in their own way, even when they occasionally seem somewhat two-dimensional.

And that’s the crux of the book’s weak point: everything feels a little gimmicky. From the improbable grandiosity of the power and history of Artemis Fowl’s family to the complex dei ex machina of fairy magic/technology, everything in the book veers a little too much towards the witty and clever to be taken very seriously. Consistency takes a back seat to “isn’t that cool,” for the most part. Which is not to say that anything egregiously bad is going on; Artemis Fowl is highly readable, and I was especially taken by the first half of the book. But the story and its mythology, for all of the loving detail, is not very deep.

In fact, this is very much a book for teens and older kids, and is likely to lose older readers that are hunting for that magic YA Crossover effect. Poop humor abounds. Between that, the melodramatic dialogue, and a liberal sprinkling of James Bond-style action and gadgetry, I began to sense a very definite audience that I think might not include me. The last half of the story is much slower than the first half, too; the fairies use a “time-stop” at the beginning of the book’s third act, and I think it might have worked on me, too, because the pace seemed to slow to a crawl as I approached the book’s climax.

As a quick aside, I’ve seen more than one reader review that lambastes the book (in all seriousness!) for its “anti-human agenda” and its “environmentalist propaganda.” Really? I mean... honestly? Huh. Well, I don’t know if those reviewers intended to give such a revealing peek into their own psyches, but it sure goes a long way to explain why trying to discuss politics with anybody these days feels to me like repeatedly punching myself in the eye socket. Suffice it to say that, as with any story that involves nature-attuned spirits who live in the earth, Artemis Fowl has an undercurrent of environmentalism. However, Colfer handles this deftly, with no unnecessary moralizing other than the expressed prejudices of the fairies, and no hint of “teaching a lesson” to be found anywhere. Action is the name of the game in this book, and some of the characters (Holly Short and Butler, specifically) are quite fun to read in this regard.

So, no, not the next Harry Potter. In a rare reversal of how things usually go for me, I loved this one in the beginning, and then the magic started to wear off a little as I approached the end. But I’d still give this one a solid recommendation for fantasy fans who aren't picky about reading something meant for younger readers, and it’s a definite must-read for teens who like action, magic, and series books. It has its problems, but Artemis Fowl is definitely a fun read, and I liked it just enough to try out the next book when I get a chance.

Verdict: 3 / 5

Graphic Novel Review: The Guild, by Felicia Day and Jim Rugg

After a protracted spell of buying any and all graphic novels I could get my hands on for the past seven months, I’ve finally come to my senses a little bit. I now try to stick to large collections and long one-off stories, and refrain from investing in graphic novels that are under 150 pages or so unless I know I want to own it. This one falls into that latter category. I’m enough of a fan of the web series that I ordered this graphic novel simply out of loyalty. I figured it would be an extra goodie for existing fans of the Guild (and it definitely is), but this svelte three-chapter story has a fair amount of mainstream appeal, as well.

This is essentially a prequel to the first season of The Guild. It’s Cyd Sherman’s backstory; the few throwaway lines that hint at her pre-Codex days in the show are explored in full detail, here. The first chapter covers her somewhat labored relationship with her then-boyfriend and her job as a professional symphonic musician. When she discovers “The Game,” the story veers towards a surprisingly deep exploration of the balance between confronting your problems and using escapism to hide from them. Finally, the third chapter sets the stage for the characters we know and love from the web series.

Felicia Day, the creator and star of the series, also wrote this book, and it definitely shows. The graphic novel has all of the humor and charm of the series, and I could practically hear the familiar voices of the characters. In fact, I’d argue that the graphic novel is the perfect introduction to the series, and not just because it is a chronological prequel. There is plenty of video game stuff in the story, but it’s all rudimentary; the reader is learning about The Game at the same time Cyd is. Thus, the story offers a gentle learning curve into the lingo-heavy world of playing MMORPGs, and since the jokes are more centered on the real world than the game world, the less-nerdy readers have a chance to develop an appreciation for Codex and The Guild without getting buried by inside jokes.

The only problem I have with the book is with the art. The art isn’t bad, but it isn’t particularly consistent. This is especially apparent due to the different art styles for in-game and real life. When Syd takes on her Codex persona, the story switches to a slick, soft-lit fantasy look, and then returns to hand-drawn normalcy when the computer is off. The game art is actually fantastic, which calls attention to the occasional weird panel in the real-life scenes, usually due to oddly-proportioned bodies or faces. To be fair to Jim Rugg, I’d imagine that doing comic versions of real-life actors contributes to the problem. I’m normally somewhat forgiving of characters looking a little different from panel to panel, but I have a certain expectation of what Felicia Day looks like, so I can’t help but have a split-second “WHAT HAPPENED TO HER FACE?!” reaction if something is a little off on any given page.

Like I said, though, inconsistent doesn’t necessarily mean bad, especially considering that most of the art is great. In any event, the excellent writing makes it easy to forgive and forget. Overall, this is a great graphic novel, and not just for people who are already fans of the show. Comic readers who like video games and/or quirky, realistic characters should give this one a try.

Verdict: 4 / 5