How Loathesome Review

I utterly detested the graphic novel in question in it's first opening pages. I was under the impression that it was going to be one of the more pompous "slice of life" stories: where constant, catty, 'Tarantino tryhard' dialogue has run amok and the social outcast protagonists constantly point their noses above the rest of society even though they are even more petty than the people they lambast. 

My stomach churned, as my only hope was to finish the trade paperback as quickly as possible. Fortunately I was pleasantly surprised. 

The self indulgent arragonace which plagues a great deal of non-genre comics, that I was afraid How Loathesome was going to revel in, evaporates to reveal a emotionally resonating and quite frankly  fun comic book.

I would emphasize "fun" as the most appropriate means of describing How Loathesome, not because it's enjoyable but vapid,  like most art that is stuck with the "fun" adjective. It's very intriguing in it's themes and characterization. Instead I am remarking upon the book's capacity to seem more erudite at a glance than it is in reality: 

The cast is colorful, and there is more thought put into them by the author, Ted Naifeh than any average writer would across any medium. Take for instance the sardonic companion of the two protagonists, who is constantly demeaning towards transsexuals. By the hands of a less skilled author, he would mainly manifest as a one sided strawman, a representative in the narrative to illustrate the stigma against those who are transgender; A clear cut antagonist who would get his comeuppance in the end. Fortunately, this Naifeh gives nuance to this supporting character: Despite his blatant transphobia, he is seen engaging in sexual activities with a trans individual, as well as the anomaly of why he befriends the two protagonists in the first place.

 However, you would be damned to find any sense of character development throughout. How Loathesome introduces it's key players, you get to peak into a day of their lives, and that's it. This comic is humble in it's lack of grandeur. 

The message conveyed is similarly meager: When you think of the greatest social commentaries or morality plays in fiction, most typically the central idea the author is attempting to convey, goes through an arc of it's own. Take the novel Crime and Punishment: Raskolnikov increasingly becomes more guilt stricken over his act of murder. He initially begins with a sense of justification for his actions, but increasingly throughout the novel he becomes more and more in tune with the immorality of the murder he committed.  

There is a very clear progression of the reader's perception of murder: You begin with one worldview, and end with another. How Loathesome does not abide by this. It's takes on issues such as transphobia and how that issue intersects among various LGBT subcultures is thought provoking, but it doesn't go the extra step of making a statement about this prediciment. It is merely wallpaper to the main narrative. 

Ultimately this is perfectly adequate, I do not get the impression that the authors did not intend to give How Loathesome a a sense of grandeur beyond what it deserves. It is a fun, character driven romp, not attempting to give solutions to the issue of transphobia.  Its political backdrop serves the same role as the "Seude" and "Killing Joke" records and posters in the background: a further layer to the book, but it does not represent the book. 

How Loathesome does not have the components of a great book, but it's surplus charms grant it to have the staying power in the reader's mind as if it were one 

7/10

Petit Volume 1 Review

I've not universially liked all of Hubert's work, but one cannot deny that he has penned some of the most optimal comics of this decade.

As he had illustriously showed with a prior work of his, Beauty, Hubert takes the conceptuality of a children's fairy tale and melds into something horrific yet filled to the brim with whimsy.

Petit is a comic that fires on all cylinders: It has the brisk pace of a manga, but manages to compensate with superb character work and exquisite mythology.

Hubert creates an ideological spectrum among the three most prominent characters: Desdée, the grandmother, who is indisputably the most moral giant in the story, yet is cursed with an excessive cynicism and impassivity; Émione, whose shares a monstrous disdain for humans in sync with the rest of her kind, but nonetheless is commendable if only for her of love of her son; and Petit, the titular protagonist, who we see through the entirety of the book endeavor through his ethical confusion that results of him being neither man nor giant.

The mythos Hubert engraves is utterly splendid. Giants, fantastical kingdoms, and medieval intrigue are old as day and night, Petit turn these elements into something bold and never before charted.

Bertrand Gatignol's artwork, while slightly obnoxious in it's tumblr, cal-arts stylings, can be illuminating in it's brilliance. The castle in it's near entirely obsidian colored interiors feels tremendously iconic. Much like Hubert's previous collaborator, Kerescoët, Gatignol depiction of the depravities on this book as if it were a DreamWorks or Pixar feature is hysterical.

Much like Moore and Gibbons, Jodorowsky and Moebius, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, Hubert and Gatignol seems like a pairing for the ages, considering how succinct their collaboration together is.

8/10

Blame! Master Edition Volume One Review

Science fiction as a genre has fostered grand achievements over the years. It, as well as other genres with a fantastical bent, have been a tried and true vessel for an author to let their imagination run wild. Yet for a corner of fiction that is filled with infinite possibilities, science fiction is plagued with cliches and trappings. So much so that original works feel inseparable from their influences. Blame! Is the epitome of the aforementioned.

 With all due respect to the cult fanbase that Blame! has amassed, Tsutomu Nihei's manga feels largely enslaved stylistically to it's dystopian, cyberpunk contemporaries. I say largely, because there are a scant few areas in which Nihei attempts to give Blame! a distinct style when it comes to his depiction of faces and his accentuation on limiting dialogue in favor of wordless panels emphasizing the location. These two characteristics of the book are laudable, but they fail miserably in my opinion; I'll explain why:

Firstly, we'll start analyzing Nihei's pencils. While unmistakably Japanese, he nevertheless strays from Manga norms in how he draws faces. Out are the exaggerated eyes that are unavoidable in Manga, in exchange for more jagged noses, and more spaced apart eyes. It would certainly be appropriate to compare Nihei's characters to those of American comics artists Scott McDaniel, and Leonardo Manco. Deviating from the norm however, does not always guarantee equate with success, as it is humorously unfortunate that the  characters Blame!, look more akin to disfigured felines rather than human beings.

Secondly I will state my view on Blame's lack of dialogue. Wordless (or almost wordless) comics, in my opinion hardly succeed in what they are trying to accomplish. Unlike film, wherein there are no sneak peaks, only the present, word deprived comics seem to lack the tension or emotional impact of comic books with the presence of words. I suspect the reason for this is that the dialogue captions and balloons force the reader to stay in one panel for a particular amount of time. Becaus of this, the reader becomes used to the status quo of that segment of the page, making the changes made in the following panels more impactful. With wordless comics you don't have this experience. Another obvious benefit of words in comics is their role in character development. Very few artists are able to show the characters' emotions with their art without depending on the writer to insert their word balloons. One might presume that Nihei conducted this approach to have readers to immerse themselves in the setting. Some artists with their detail so meticulous that their backgrounds have a personality and wit of their own. A Geof Darrow or a Moebius can get away with dedicating a series of pages to a birds eye view of downtown. Nihei, unfortunately, does not have this talent. The environment of Blame! is bloated and spacious, but more hideous and drab than impressive.

Blame! is a weird, ugly comic. Neither it's conventions nor it's quirks could keep it afloat.

2/10

The Basis For My Ratings

*Update. I have been putting a halt to my reviews since the last review until up to this point because I was in the midst of reading, and devising a review of - - George Perez's Wonder Woman.

That aforementioned review should appear tommorow. As for today, I will elaborate on my criteria for the various 1 through 10 scale ratings I bestow on a comic:

1/10
Illegible, incomprehensible, and incoherent.

2/10
So awful to the point, that it is comical, but not to the point where it is impossible to interpret.

3/10
A bland incompetent work with virtually no redeeming value. Arguably the worst rating a book can have as it is worse than a four and a five, but isn't bad enough to be nearly as fascinating as a one or humorous as a two, it merely resides in an abyss of disposability.

4/10
Walks the tightrope constantly between good and bad. It may have some truly spectacular elements, but has enough truly awful components that it ends up in this cornucopia of mediocrity.

5/10
An astronomical books that can be seen as very enjoyable could be put in this category. Alas, a five is not exceptional nor memorable enough truly be considered above average.

6/10
Unobjectionably of quality. It does not have the ambition that would result in more creativity or depth that would lead to it having a seven, eight, nine, or a ten however.

7/10
Very good. Few flaws. Overall decent

8/10
Terrific. Never fails to impress the vast majority of the time. It's only vice is that there are a select few books that are a higher tier.

9/10
A work that deserves to be remembered decades later.

10/10
A standard that I have yet to see be met. Even in the most surgically precise books there is always r a facet that I could critique, or at the very least imagine could be better.

Wonder Woman 195-205 Review

What Greg Rucka does for the character of Princess Diana is commendable, and elevates his issues of the Wonder Woman ongoing to some of the greatest heights the character has ever soared (while one may argue that doesn't say much): Rucka plays up the ambassador and public icon facet of Wonder Woman  and deemphasizing her role as a traditional superhero. Diana being forced to combat an American public skeptical of  the radical, paganistic views she brings forth to the world is as essential to the plot as her clashing with her (underwhelming to be frank) rogues gallery. In many ways more than one, this enables Rucka's Wonder Woman to be more akin to Aaron Sorkin's West Wing or Newsroom than orthodox superhero fare.

What must also be lionized (though maybe less so) is Drew Johnson's pencils: Johnson's quasi lifelike and statuesque method of illustrated characters is perfectly suited for Greg Rucka's more political perspective on Wonder Woman.

However, every compliment about Rucka's original run on Wonder Woman one can give are a double edged sword, as you see momentarily. While a gargantuan portion of what makes Greg Rucka as a writer so acclaimed, his slight, early 2000's indicative snark, as well as his (supposedly) more grounded take on superheroes, these attributes that reputedly elevate his work, do not mask the reality that these books of his are very much within the confines of the superhero genre, and these aforementioned quirks that make Rucka unique are actually a hindrance to his comics. 

Painting a spotlight on Wonder Woman ambassador duties is a fascinating change of pace, in fact if Rucka dedicated his run entirely to this portion of the book, a modern classic could have been conjured. Quite unfortunately, either editorial or Rucka himself felt compelled to still include the villain of the week trope that is a staple of comics. This would not be a net negative as in and of itself, but this leads to the writer juggling two conflicts at once and because of it, the antagonists suffer. All the villainous characters save Veronica Cale feel misplaced and tacked on. 

Greg Rucka also suffers from the same issues as his contemporaries Bendis, David, and Simone in regards to the fact that their "hip", "laid back" dialogue which was in chic at the dawn of the 21st century does not easily translate well to the world of superheroes. These are stories which fundamentally involve high stakes and men who bear god-like abilities. Rucka's snark filled, nonchalant dialogue is dreadfully out of place. The more casual linguistics spouted by the characters of modern superhero comics is in all likelihood a reaction to the oft flat words spewed by the characters of the Golden, Silver, and Bronze Age, little do these contemporary writers realize is that this archaic form of dialogue, while unrealistic, helps realize the mythic and larger than life status of the protagonists. 

The glimmers of greatness that the opening 10 issues of Greg Rucka's run are plentiful and fruitful. However, it falls flat on it's face in numerous areas. 

5/10

Royal City by Jeff Lemire Review

Jeff Lemire is one of the most perplexing comics professionals alive today. He produces material that seems so divorced from one another aesthetically, thematically, and in terms of sheer quality that you would swear on your mother's grave that half of his work is from an entirely different author.

To be precise, it happens that there are two sides of Jeff Lemire. The first being one of the premier  writers in the independent comics scene. A writer who, recycles the many motifs of his work, makes up for it with his propensity to weave some of the greatest familial and interpersonal dynamics in comics, and one who can pull at the readers heart strings more than any other.

The other Jeff Lemire, however is yet another by the numbers lackey of the Big Two. His superhero stories read like they were part of a promotional flipbook that came with a box of cereal. His independent comics are more sufficient than his bibliography at Marvel, DC,  or Valiant, but they still feel rather underdeveloped and struggling too hard to reach the greatness of the other Lemire.

A Jeff Lemire comic is like a coin toss, if you the odds were in your favor, you scored big, but if you lost, you just wasted away thirty minutes of your life on complete dreck. Fortunately, I am euphoric to say that Royal City is the former rather than the latter.

Within these pages, a gripping ghost story unravels. Admittedly, some of the key characters in Royal City are a tad stereotypical. You have the alcoholic failure, the aging father in the midst of a sexless marriage, etcetera. What makes redeems these potentially one note stock characters however, is the depth that Lemire gives to them. Jeff Lemire retains the ability to regurgitate old concepts and regift as to make them appear fresh and new. Under the hands of a less capable author, or perhaps Jeff Lemire wrote this book at DC or Marvel, these characters would be vexatiously dull, but Lemire performs a respectable task at making the denizens of Royal City well rounded.

The childlike, almost "outsider art" quality to Lemire's pencils  dazzle once again in the pages of this book. Just like great artists Gilbert Hernandez and Laurence Hubbard, the raw yet kinetic style of Jeff Lemire makes the act of drawing look easy. This method of drawing comes with it's hindrances as well. The landscapes are barren and vacuous and the poses the characters of the narrative make are at best that of a cheap Chinese action figure or at worst that of a third grader's stick figure drawing. Alas, both of these critiques can be percieved as part of Lemire's charm as an artist, and really boils down to personal preference.

Primarily I see Jeff Lemire as a sort of Woody Allen figure within the comics sphere. His oeuvre is drowned out by lesser works, so much so that it is all too easy to underestimate him. However, he always surprises you when he releases that one good comic every couple of years.

6/10

Superman in the New Millennium Part 2: Jurgens's Action and Tomasi's Superman.

The Rebirth initiative inaugurated arguably the greatest era of Superman comics in more than a decade and a half not for the typical reasons of reinventing and innovating the titular hero, like so many writers trying to craft a "classic" run try to do, but merely on the basis that the comics were good.

Writers given the burden of writing Superman in his various titles have been pondering for decades on how to default Superman back to his position as comics' greatest hero, and this means changing the cardinal foundation of the character. In Godfall and For Tomorrow, Superman was placed in science fiction setting more appropriate for a Michael Bay film or a Marc Silvestri comic rather than a something that felt natural for the Man of Steel. Robinson, Rucka, Loeb, and Kelly built the character up to be the linchpin of company wide events such as Our Worlds at War and New Krypton. Austen attempted to inject a love triangle between Lana Lang, Clark Kent, and Lois Lane. Finally, J. Michael Straczynski haphazardly attempted to translate O'Neil's dated Green Lantern/Green Arrow to Superman. The New Fifty Two doubled down on the gimmicks: Replacing his tights with Jim Lee armor, gifting him with a new angst ridden, brash personality, and as a final nail on the coffin, outing his secret identity to the public. All of these falling flat on their face.

While Rebirth did change some aspects to the Superman status quo, these changes didn't alter the Superman formula a s we know it. In the Rebirth 'Action Comics' and 'Superman' Clark Kent was once more in a fruitful marriage with longtime love interest Lois Lane fighting extraordinary threats with the same 'gee whizz' attitude that has been a staple of the character in his most iconic forms. Lex Luthor becoming a hero, while being a problematic notion in the long term, was a very entertaining subplot in Action Comics, and didn't overstate it's welcome. The emergence of Jon Kent in 'Superman' marked, in my opinion, one of the most engaging new creations in the Superman mythos since Steel and Superboy during Reign of the Superman more than two decades prior.

Jurgens and Tomasi were not great successors to the Superman throne mind you: There was the odd subpar storyline and the stellar status quo of the two creative teams were breaker up by writers and artists of lesser quality in a likelyhood due to breakneck scheduling pace caused by the premier titles of the DC Rebirth li ne being bimonthly. Nonetheles, Tomasi and Jurgens managed to return Superman, not to his past heights of popularity, as every past contemporary Superman writer had failed to accomplish, but to a level of dependable competency in his titles.

Superman is a character whose milquetoast toast nature leads to a situation wherein it is best not to rock the boat. While someone such as Batman is heavily malleable,  as he can be a campy science fiction hero, a semiserous pulp detective, or a troubled verteran antihero and have all interpretations work equally well, Superman is comparatively rigid in terms of characterization, location, and tone. Superman doesn't succeed as a bully for the working class as in Morrison's run, or a man on the run as in Yang's run, or a straight up ass as in Austen's.

Elseworlds and Imaginary Tales put aside, Superman should be the kindhearted but bold from equal part Krypton and Kansas with Lois Lane by his side. These are the fundamentals of the character, and what made both Jurgens and Tomasi's takes on him work in contrast to the past near two decades.

A Retrospective on "Action Comics" and "Superman" in the new Millennium - Part 1

The twenty first century has been a dud for the Man of Steel in the four color pages of comics. Especially in terms of his household, Action Comics and Superman monthlies.You had a Millar/Peyer/Morrison/Waid pitch for a valiant new direction for Superman aborted at the last minutes and to be replaced by the efforts of Loeb, Kelly, and others all leading up to what is generally considered to be one of DC's most insipid crossovers, "Our Worlds at War".

The next major teams respectively were Chuck Austen and Ivan Reis and Brian Azzarello and Jim Lee. Austen's run on Action, to be terse about it, has already gone down as one of the worst Superman runs of all time, and Azzarello's stint on Superman, while holding great promise, slowly degraded into Science Fiction, Image schlock. 

Thereupon, the teams of Gail Simone and Byrne on Action Comics and Superman by Kurt Busiek and Geoff Johns. What made Simone's work on Action Comics infamous was the execrable artwork from the once great John Byrne, now reverted to a shell of his former self. Kurt Busiek and Geoff Johns's run on Superman was one of the few periods for the character's central titles this millennium that was not met with scorn or ambivalence but with acclaim.(Even though I am in the minority when I say I regard Johns's Superman. It seems more of a paint by numbers, greatest hits depiction of the character more than anything else).

 Afterward James Robinson and Greg Rucka seized the reins to the franchise. While there were some quite engrossing elements to that period,(Robinson from my perspective attempted to bring back the luster that he lost after Starman by retooling a commendable amount of has-been characters) it felt stale. We have two authors not fit to the task of writing Superman. Robinson was a one hit wonder past his prime, and while Rucka can be a force to reckoned with on a crime-centric title such as Batman or Batwoman, his attempt at run of the mill superheroism can fall flat on it's face. Both runs suffered the same fate as Loeb and Kelly's Superman less than a decade prior, in which they had built up to yet another execrable event, "New Krypton". 

Promptly came probably the worst run out of the lot, J. Michael Straczynski's "Grounded" saga in the pages of Superman. It's Straczynski at his very worst. Pompous and holier than thou, but devoid of substance. Ever the charlatan, Straczynski spins a yarn that has been told dozens, if not a hundred times, and presenting it as novel: Superman being exposed as out of touch with humanity and forces himself to come to terms with solving everyday social ills. I hate this trope, not only because it has been done ad nauseam which it has, but because every almost every single time this narrative is handled dismally and inevitably leads to character assassination. By insinuating that Superman is negligent of real world issues, the notion of him being one of the foremost superheroes is shattered. To add more fuel to the fire, Straczynski abandoned his writing duties for the Superman title six months in advance in order to move on to more lucrative projects. With the reboot forthcoming, the Superman of the Post CoIE canon that has been prevalent for over two decades is left abruptly on a dour note.

Now onward with the reboot, or the New Fifty Two as it proclaimed itself to be. This was not your father's Superman: He was brash, awkward, and moody. The aforementioned rift in character for the Man of Tomorrow would inevitably cause a sizable portion of fans to be infuriated, but if the right writers were given the keys to Superman's kingdom, this could be a sublime move. However, even with such preeminent talent as Grant Morrison and George Perez could not make this status quo succeed due to factors such as editorial interference (in Perez's case) and to put it bluntly, poor writing (in Morrison's case I hate to admit). While some franchises such as Batman, Flash, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern were regarded as highlights of the New Fifty Two, with either their continuing to abide by the old continuity in large, or due to their bold, provocative changes, Superman and Action Comics were not these titles. They were bland, haphazard, remiss, and forgettable. Not awful nor good enough to be worth remembering. 

Then came along Rebirth. Which I cover next post, with my review of the first five issues of Action Comics Rebirth. This will be followed by a review of Tomasi's tenure on Superman as a whole. Promptly, reviews of  Bendis's Action Comics and Superman will be soon to follow. 

Sharaz De: Tales from the Arabian Nights - Review

Sharaz De is yet another example of the hordes of comic books which utilizes the narrative only as a means to display the exemplary art. 

And let me tell you, Sergio Toppi's art redefines exemplary. Toppi's figures boast an almost cinematic quality to them, as their fluidity engenders an illusion that they are roaming around Toppi's phantasmagorical environments, even in the static world of comics. With his contorted yet crisp Gustav Klimt-esque textures rampant in his work, it is astounding how Toppi had been churning out comics with this  distorted charm 10, 20, to 30 years before more renowned American and British pencilers such as Bill Sienkiewicz, Dave McKean, Duncan Fegredo, and J.H. Williams III reached acclaim for their derivative aesthetic. What is arguably even more commendable is that Sergio Toppi always delivers his story visually in a perspicuous and coherent manner, in spite of  abandonment of the dime a dozen comic book grid, in favor of one page spread collages of faces, figures, and architecture. Imagine a sexier, more lurid Will Eisner, or a less minimalist variation of Mignola's covers. Brilliant as he is influential, Toppi really should be held in the same regards as a Jack Kirby or a Moebius.

However, no matter how technically brilliant, creative and masterful the art of a comic can be, it must be understood that comics is a collaboration between the plot and the visuals; These elements must be exploited hand in hand in order to properly utilize the medium's potential. A comic with the greatest art can suffer due to sub-par storytelling. This occurs ofttimes in adaptations of older literature such as this, with the penciler or painter takes advantage of the flatness of the source material as a excuse for their book to mainly if not solely rely on it's illustrations. Even with art as alluring as in Sharaz De, the art alone isn't incentive enough to keep the reader engaged.

 The superfluous framing sequence and the rudimentary morality plays that spin out of it do a gross injustice to the artwork, but this is the rare time in which I cannot help but feel that the aesthetic element of this work is so otherworldly in it's greatness that any other criticism of it's other aspects is moot.

7/10 

Deathstroke Volume 1 Review

(Review of issues 1-5 of Deathstroke)

The comic industry is facing such a dire stage of declines of current that mediocrity is eulogized as genius. Tom King wrote two muddled albeit mildly promising comic books (that being Vision and Omega Men) at the very beginning of his career and almost immediately he was hailed as the next Alan Moore. I see this sentiment time and time again in the comic book community. Admirable, albeit milquetoast runs such as Tomasi's Siperman and Ewing's Hulk, takes on the characters that would be considered merely "good" 10 to 20 years ago are elevated to modern classics in today's struggling environment.

Christopher Priest's Deathstroke exemplifies this in spades. The scant few who are readers of the monthly ongoing oft refer to it as if it were the crown jewel of DC's Rebirth initiative, but alas every facet of the opening arc of Priest's run on Slade Wilson is smothered in half assed shodiness.

Priest makes pitiful attempts at making his Deathstroke have a flair of style with the chapter headings and the frequent flashbacks. However the book winds up  having the same aesthetic that has been DC's house style for their titles of lesser importance. 

While those unattuned to Slade Wilson may be intrigued by the dysfunctional social dynamic between himself and his family, in reality this is not uncharted territory for Wilson if you have even the slightest knowledge of his previous ongoings. Priest is evidently retreading old ground. It's as if the only character development Batman ever had was that his parents were shot by a mugger in a dark alley. The author is only utilizing the bare bones of Deathstroke and nothing more. 

The sole, slightly redeeming element of this ongoing is that once or twice there are some amusing tidbits of dialogue such as the scene I am soon to present to you of Slade lecturing his daughter...

As well as a scene of the current Robin of the DC Universe Damian Wayne taunting Deathstroke while at his mercy. 

Nevertheless, Christopher Priest's opening arc of Deathstroke is akin to a zombie: 

No heart

No soul

No brains

3/10

Comics and Manga - Venus and Mars

Throughout my life I have read a thousand, if not thousands of western variations of the comic book medium. Alas, I am ashamed to say that I have only truly exposed myself to comics' Asian derivative, manga a meager two  ago. The rational portions of myself have always reckoned it to be common sense to consider manga and comics kissing cousins. In sharp contrast, the irrational child in me approached manga as some sort of incomprehensible, alien object.

While both are generally considered the same artform, and taken into account as facets of sequential art, manga and comics both are rather divorced into their little niches, and subcultures. It is more probable to stumble upon discussion of manga in relation to the animation of Anime, than to be paired up with American and European comics. Likewise, when these  Anglo-centric comics are the subject of attention, they are more closely rooted to other exemplars of American mainstream popular culture such as video games, TV shows etcetera, than being talked about hand in hand with manga. 

In spite of the axiomatic similarities between western and asian comics, (for instance, proverbially both work under the confines of the panel to panel structure) this is perfectly rational.  

Manga is a cultural powerhouse of Japan. There are subways in Japan  in which virtually every single passenger is indulging in some sort of derivative of a manga. Regardless of it's shrinking numbers, the sales figures of one of the preeminent manga magazines Shonen Jump still sells in the millions after more than fifty years after it's conception. Meanwhile, the American direct market's typically most popular monthly comic publication, "Batman" starring one of the most recognizable characters this side of Jesus Christ and Mickey Mouse, sells less than a tenth of a million. One thing is clearly more popular than the other.

Famously there are aesthetic and storytelling disparities between Western and Asian comics that in all likelihood lead fans of both to have preferences and regard these two continental takes on sequential art as two seperate entities. Look at your typical American monthly comic book: it is vertically rectangular, clad in simplistic, primary and secondary color, and was, at least before the dawn of the 21st century, relatively self contained. A striking many are within the confines of the superhero genre. European comics differ in format, as they oft have twice the page count of their American counterparts,  but they are similar in approach to storytelling. 

Manga, on the other hand, is two thirds the size of a standard American comic issue, printed in black white, and employs heavy use of screentones rather than illustrated lines. 

Testing

Salutations. This is the introductory post for my new comic review blog "Comic Book Heartbreak". It's a name I'm displeased with, but I've been attempting to  concoct a name for the aforementioned blog I have been planning for so long that I forced myself to pick a name by yesterday so this project could commence. If you are wondering, the title is a bastardized paraphrase of the probably apocryphal Jack Kirby quote, "Kid, comics will break your heart"