J-horror, it's a thing

My love for Japanese horror, or J-horror, knows no boundaries. We've always known that the Japanese can come up with weird shiz, but the horror stories they're able to conjure is simply inexplicable. But in a good way. In a horrific kind of good way. It's not for everyone though, especially if you're turned off by body horror or perverse sexual elements. But hey, if you're reading horror, then shouldn't you be expecting to be disturbed and made uncomfortable with the story?

I'm not really big on manga, the comics made by Japanese writers and artists, but I will make an exception to Junji Ito, who is now one of my favorite writers and storytellers. I just discovered him this year, when I randomly pulled Shiver, his 2017 collection, from the shelf of a local bookstore. I say randomly because whenever I'm in a reading slump, I usually turn to the graphic novels section of the bookstore and check out titles without any rhyme or reason. I discovered lots of wonderful graphic novels this way—Mazzucchelli's Asterios Polyp, Beauchard's Epileptic, and Brosgol's Anya's Ghost, to name a few. Interestingly, it was the bf who got me into reading graphic novels. Before the bf (B.B.F.), my middle class upbringing taught me to look down at these works, which is totally the fault of my parents.

Perhaps the only reason why I don't have much love for manga is that its stories are terribly slow. I'd probably have more fun watching paint dry or looking for wrinkles slowly develop on my face. But with Junji Ito though, I just never know what to expect. Well, I've read only his short fiction collection so far, but what I've read lets me get my horror fix, which I've been rarely getting from the horror novels I've finished lately. There's just something off right from the first page of the story that you could subtly detect, whether it's the oddly proportioned face of a character, the too-perfect veneer of a house, or the cheery friend who seems to be hiding her broken self. I revel in these stories. It's not at all like "The Twilight Zone," but more like the copulation of Hitchcock (for the suspense), Stirling (for the speculative aspect), King (for the jump scares), and Barker (for the out-of-this-world body horror).

I can't get enough of the body horror that Ito tells in some of his stories. In one story titled "Glyceride," a man pops his many pimples and lets the oil drip onto his sister. In "Dissection Girl," a girl dreams of being dissected alive and goes through great lengths just to make it happen. And those are just the "tame" ones, dear reader. There are far darker and grosser instances of this kind of terror in Ito's work.

Another thing I find unsettling in many of Ito's horror stories is his depiction of women. The way he draws his female monsters amd ghosts gives you that slight icky feeling. The blank eyes and facial expressions, the uncomfortably svelte figure, their hair which seems to have a life of their own—stuff of nightmares, I tell you. And it's because of this that I'm really glad that I'm gay. Anyway, check out these "ladies" in the pictures below. Note how the style of the illustrations also give them both a sexual and a predatory feel. But again, these do nothing for me, sexually I mean.

"Blackbird" from Fragments of Horror (2013-2014)

"Whispering Woman," also from Fragments of Horror

I love J-horror in all its forms. Ju-On and Ringu still remain as two of my favorite horror movies. Coincidentally, both also have elements of body horror and female antagonists. One other thing to note about J-horror is that the horror just happens without having the need for an explanation. So there's usually no tedious back story that we all have to painfully go through. It's the same thing with Junji Ito's stories. Weird stuff just happens, like people being chased by floating heads, a woman being turned on by a house and eventually having sex with it, and a man having all the heads of his ancestors living on top of his head. It's just is, man.

The books in my bag last weekend

Not so fun anymore

My third read for the year left me wanting. Trese Volume 6, the Philippine graphic novel by Budgette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo arrived with much anticipation. I kept hearing that bookstores have run out of stock. So when I saw several copies in an out-of-the-way bookstore, I didn't think twice about getting it.

Yes, every time there's a new Trese volume, it's a major publishing event here in the Philippines. There hasn't been a local graphic novel that has sparked the interest and captured the imagination lately. Who wouldn't love a graphic novel that delves heavily in Philippine mythology and has elements of horror, action, and mystery?

Think Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files. Trese, a detective who comes from a very mysterious family, specializes in solving crimes of supernatural origins. All the tropes of a police procedural are here: Trese's close relationship with the local police force, the noir atmosphere, the couple of sidekicks who inject humor, red herrings, smoking guns.

Read this in the dead of night hoping it would be scary.
Huge disappoint, that was.

Yet somehow, when I read this latest installment, I didn't feel the same sense of wonder that I did when I finished the first three volumes. Gone were the horror, the fascination with seeing local monsters on the page, and the thrill of having discovered the perpetrators. The overall effect was just cheesy, to say the least.

And the characters . . . Trese still is the same Trese when you met her in the first volume. The Kambal, Trese's sidekicks, are still goofballs. The villains are cookie cutter creations that show no other emotions except the desire to wreak havoc in the city. Everything feels superfluous. I would've been happier rereading the early installments.

Baldisimo's illustrations are still superb though. I would've wanted Tan to make full use of the panels in developing the narrative. However, the dialogue felt "talky," as if the author felt the need to explain everything and not let the panels tell the story. The conversations also seemed unnatural and formal-ish. Trese is the kind of work that needs street-smart language, which unfortunately was severely lacking in this volume.

One good thing to come out of the sixth volume is that we do discover more details about Trese's family (her father and her siblings) and several other supernatural characters that are allied to Trese and her family. But this aspect still feels derivative. I kept expecting someone to just blurt out, "Avengers, assemble!"

I'm not so sure if I'd read the succeeding installments anymore. I've friends who are huge fans of the Trese series, and I hope that they persevere. Who knows, maybe the 7th, 8th, and nth volumes would be better.

Read this book if:

1. You're curious about Philippine mythology.
2. You like police procedurals, murder mysteries, noir, and crime fiction.
3. You're a completist.

A meet-and-greet with one of my favorite graphic novelists

If you're free this weekend, do drop by at Fully Booked to see Arnold Arre and hear him talk about his much beloved graphic novel, The Mythology Class.

I've read The Mythology Class several years ago, and I distinctly remember being blown away by it. It's one of those works that you treasure and you recommend to your friends.

I'm so glad that it's finally being reprinted by Nautilus Comics with 3 different covers this time! Am I getting another copy? Hell, yes!

I wish every day were Saturday

While I wasn't able to spend the full day last Saturday at the 3rd annual Philippine ReaderCon, I did manage to catch the late afternoon sessions, which were all about book clubs. It's the 1st time that I didn't play an active role at the ReaderCon. During the 1st year, I moderated one of the sessions on book clubs here in the country. Then last year, I headed the Registration Committee. This year though, there were just too many things on my plate.

Anyway, this year, I did make it in time for the book club's discussion of Neil Gaiman's Season of Mists, which is the 4th volume of the acclaimed Sandman series. There weren't that many participants this year as compared with the almost fully packed room last year, when we talked about Rafe Bartholomew's nonfiction book about basketball in the Philippines, Pacific Rims. It was still a lovely way to spend the Saturday afternoon though.

Also, there were still several booths set up by the book clubs featuring the wide array of books that they're recommending to readers. I did the usual rounds, picking up several of the lists and bookmarks along the way. Unfortunately, the bookmarks being given away by my book club ran out! Nevertheless, I ended up with lots and lots of bookmarks in my tote.

I also purchased a few books. I bought my very first Filipino chick lit novel, Mina V. Esguerra's My Imaginary Ex. Mina was actually there in her romance class booth, and I asked her which among her novels is a good place to start. But the ones that I was truly excited about is the series of comic books about crime-fighting call center agents, which were appropriately titled Crime-Fighting Call Center Agents. The first 4 issues are just so hilarious!

My ReaderCon loot
Bookmarks and reco lists! Woot woot!

Of course, the book club still didn't want to call it a day, even though the ReaderCon ended at around 5 pm. We ended up having dinner at a newly opened strip mall nearby. R.'s birthday was just next day, so I thought it would be the perfect time to surprise him with a simple birthday cake. It was a 5-layer chocolate cake! It was a very fun Saturday indeed.

So: ReaderCon, Sandman, bookmarks, new books, dinner with the book club, and a birthday cake. It was a great Saturday indeed.

R. was completely surprised with his birthday cake.
I'm giddily clapping as well. :-)
(Photo credit: Jan Ruiz)

Not enough to turn me into a fan

Still on a graphic novel reading spree. Haven't felt reading anything heavy on text because of all the things happening around lately. Proust's Swann's Way would still have to wait. Although I've given myself this month to finish that. But for now, Batman.

Now I must admit that I'm not really big on the Caped Crusader. I found the movies (the Burton, the Schumacher, the Nolan) just fairly enjoyable. The vintage TV series was campy at best. When you say Batman, I just think of the costumes. Tight costumes. As in really tight. So tight that they'll show nipples and abs. Nipples so perky that you think, gee, it's really cold outside.

I found Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth at a bookstore. I thought, what better way for my Batman-ignorant self to be acquainted with this superhero than this stand-alone graphic novel. It's the 15th anniversary edition no less. Besides, the story's written by Grant Morrison and the artworks by Dave McKean. The latter is of The Sandman series fame. Sold.

Okay, the story. Now I know why I've never been fond of Batman. The guy's got so many issues. Prick him and he bleeds paternity, identity, and security issues. Slap him and your hand would feel numb by his intense coldness. I never got into Batman's brooding nature. If I were a millionaire, brooding would be the last personality I would have. Anyway, the story concerns with the inmates taking hostage the staff of Arkham Asylum. Their demand is simple: Have Batman go to the asylum and make him be one of them. The asylum residents are of a different breed altogether. They're all the enemies of Batman including Joker, Two-Face, Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, Croc, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Then I was quite disappointed that there isn't much action in Arkham Asylum. There is plenty of talking though. And lots of panels showing the dark history of Arkham house and how Batman was lured into going there. Blah blah blah blah. And how is Batman released from the asylum? Well, by a simple coin toss. Yes, a coin toss that was probably rigged by Two-Face. Oh, Two-Face, you spoil all the fun. To think you were my favorite villain! You should've been more villain-y.

What I really liked about the graphic novel is the beautiful panels, which were paintings done by McKean. The panels were very gritty. And they did effectively show the themes of horror and psychological suspense. Even the typeface used for Joker's dialogue was very artistic. Just look at some of the panels below.

I'm not really sure if I'll be reading another Batman graphic novel soon. Perhaps I'll just wait for that Batman vs. Superman movie. Ben Affleck vs. Henry Cavill! If only they'd do away with the costumes, no?

Read this book if:

1. You fall for these brooding characters.
2. You love a guy in tight outfits.
3. You have this crazy idea of putting all your ex-boyfriends or ex-girlfriends in one house and then just seeing what happens.

Feels like Star Wars, but it's nothing like it

I'm still reeling over Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples's Saga Volume 1. Really, it's the best graphic novel that I've read. Ever. And I thought that Vaughan topped himself with Y: The Last Man. I was wrong, but in a damn good way.

One of my favorite websites, io9, came up with a list of reasons why everyone should read Saga. They nailed it perfectly. The space operatic story, the nuanced characters, the exotic settings—everything worked beautifully. If you're not into graphic novels, Saga will win you over. It's that perfect example on how some stories can only be told in the graphic novel medium.

Saga is about star-crossed lovers. Alana, a soldier from the family Landfall, falls in love with Marko, a fighter from Landfall's only moon called Wreath. There's just one problem, a big one in fact: Landfall and Wreath have been at war with each other. The war has been going on for so long that they've now "outsourced" their fighting in other planets.

Of course, it doesn't help that the romance between Alana and Marko results in an offspring—a baby girl named Hazel who has Alana's wings and Marko's horns. Somehow, I felt that Vaughan alludes to angels and devils in characterizing the people of Landfall, who all have wings (reptilian and avian), and those of Wreath, who all have horns of different structures (some antler-, bull-, and deer-like). The Landfallen are experts at military weapons, so it seems, and the Wreath have the ability to do magic. So, yes, Saga effectively combines the tropes of science fiction and fantasy.

Then there are the other characters, which are just beautifully weird. Bounty hunters named The Will and The Stalk, both of which were hired by Wreath to kill Alana and Marko. The Stalk is actually half woman and half spider. Needless to say, she's scary as hell. And then there are the automatons, people with TV monitors for heads, who are allied with Landfall. If you think that's weird, wait until you get to the panels showing them having doggy-style sex or taking a dump. Then you've seen it all.

My favorite character would have to be The Will's companion, Lying Cat. It can tell whether a person is saying the truth or not. I wouldn't want it to be within 10 feet of me because, you know, lying . . . it's in my nature.

Don't you just love that face? Adorable.

I wonder what the toilet smells like.

Hazel is born.

The Stalk is so sexy.

Argh! How long will I have to wait for the series to finish? Volume 2 just came out this year, and I've already finished it. I can't get enough of Vaughan's gift of storytelling and Staples's talent for drawing. Saga is an edge-of-your-seat read, and it's my favorite read of the year so far.

Read this book if:

1. You have the patience to wait for the next installment.
2. You have a love-hate affair with Star Wars.
3. You have a thing for star-crossed lovers.

Easy to swallow

I'm on a graphic novel binge. Probably as a result of my reading one Sandman collection after another. Ah, Sandman. It really never gets old. And I can't imagine the Sandman stories being told in another genre besides the graphic novel form.

I've just finished Chew Volume 1: Taster's Choice by John Layman and Rob Guillory, and I am hooked on this series. It's the kind of graphic novel with a premise so outrageous that it just works. Chew is my current guilty pleasure.

In the first volume, we meet Tony Chu, a detective who has just recently been recruited by the Special Crimes Division of the FDA. Tony Chu has a very unusual talent. He's a cibopathic, a person who sees in his mind impressions from the food he's just taken. If he eats an apple, he sees how and when it was harvested and who picked it. If he eats a burger, he gets glimpses on how the cow was slaughtered.

Chu's talent is so prized by the division because he can actually solve murders with it. But of course, it would mean having to take a bite of the dead person's body. Gross stuff, but so damn good. In Taster's Choice, we discover that the US is now at a time when eating farm-grown chicken has become illegal. Everyone has been reduced to eating the fake stuff. There's probably a conspiracy involved with this, but the first volume just hints at it. Something to discover in the next volumes.

I am loving Chew because of its humor. It's a graphic novel that doesn't take itself seriously. (How can you, with such an out-of-this-world story line?) Lots of jokes are scattered in the panels. And superb one-liners too! But make no mistake, Chew is still, at its core, a detective story. A very good hard-boiled one at that. And the twist at the end involving one of the main characters is one you don't really see coming. I'm so in.

Read this book if:

1. You have strong feelings about your food.
2. You wanna go vegan.
3. Your instagram account is filled with pictures of food.

Fantastic storytelling

Ten years ago, I wouldn't find myself near a graphic novel. Those things are trashy and people who read and buy them should be looked down on. Pictures, panels, speech bubbles—these are not the elements of good literature. Yes, middle class Filipinos believed this horse shit. So for 3 decades, most of my reading consisted of books that just have text.

Enter Neil Gaiman's The Sandman, and everything I knew about the graphic novel genre would be strewn to the floor. In other words, I bit the dust. When I read the first page of my first Sandman compilation, I was like, "How come I'm reading this wonderful 'horse shit' only now? What glorious horse shit this is!"

It was my good friend R. who gave me my first Sandman compilation—Fables & Reflections, the 6th volume of the series. It's still my favorite volume, coincidentally. S far, I have 6 of the 12 volumes. Still a long way to go. And still many times in the future wherein I'd empty my wallet. Those graphic novels, they're just too damn expensive.

I've grown to the love the mystical world of the Endless: Morpheus (Dream) and his 6 six siblings (Destiny, Death, Delirium, Destruction, Despair, and Desire). The stories in The Sandman are a combination of horror, mystery, and fantasy. Fantastic storytelling, I tell you, dear reader. And one that you'd like to return to every now and then.

Our book for this month at the book club is actually the 4th volume, Season of Mists. It's a very dark read, and it's heavy on mythology. You'd get to meet Bast, Thor, Odin, the Japanese god of storms, faeries, fallen angels, and even Lucifer himself. You can't go wrong with these characters, right? More so if you find out that Lucifer has called it quits and has turned over the keys of hell to you.

Jon Snow: Who is the Sandman? What sorcery is this?
Me: You know nothing, Jon Snow.

How very timely to be reading The Sandman now! Gaiman has come up with a 6-issue bimonthly miniseries of a Sandman prequel. Woot woot! The first issue's just been released last 30 October, and I've been itching to get my hands on one. Finally, last Saturday I was able to get a copy. I could die now. Well, at least after I've read the 6th issue.

Lock me up in a room with these graphic novels and throw away the key

Glorious, glorious weekend. I spent a part of it reading Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez's wonderfully dark series of graphic novels that begin with Locke & Key 1: Welcome to Lovecraft. If the rest of the series is half as good as this first installment, then I'm a happy camper.

Now, Joe Hill. 20th Century Ghosts, Horns, and Heart-Shaped Box are books right up my alley. Creepy, gory, frightful fun. I guess being a son of Stephen King does have its perks, no? I can just imagine the family dinner conversations. (My horror is better than your horror. Hehehe.)

The first Locke & Key isn't an all-out horror graphic novel though. It starts with a murder. Sam Lesser, an unstable teenager, murders his guidance counselor, leaving Tyler, Kinsey, and Bode without a father. The three siblings and their mother then move to their Uncle Duncan's house (named Keyhouse) in a town called Lovecraft. Sam is locked up not in a jail but in a juvenile detention center because of his age.

Keyhouse is one weird house, I tell you. Lots of locked doors and rooms, there's a girl in a well that speaks to the Bode, the youngest Locke sibling. Bode is the first to discover how a key can open the Ghost Door. When he passes through it, he leaves his body and moves in his spirit form.

We do learn that the girl in the well has a more significant role in the story than I initially thought. Sam thinks of the girl as his master. And somehow, she is still connected to Sam even though he's locked away, giving Sam tools that pave the way for his escape. Sam travels to Keyhouse as ordered by the girl. It's all gore and mayhem from here. Sam takes the Locke family hostage, and Bode finds the Anywhere Key and hands it to the girl.

Sam is eventually killed though, and the girl in the well escapes. By the end of the novel, we see the girl in the well morph into a man. Such a deliciously creepy end to the first series, don't you think? I'm so in!

Read this book if:

1. You're looking to read a different kind of horror.
2. You love graphic novels not involving superheroes.
3. You like dark and wonderfully weird story lines. 

P.S. The illustrations are striking. Gabriel Rodriguez's panels are just too gorgeous. A few below.

When you go through the Ghost Door, your spirit leaves your body.
Basically, your physical body becomes dead.

The girl in the well house

One of the first few full-page panels
Sam Lesser knocking on the door of Locke's house to murder him

It's about time

Unlike most people my age, I never really liked Archie, Veronica, Betty, and the rest of the gang from Riverdale High. But there's one recent storyline that grabbed my attention—a gay wedding! Who would've thunk it?!

I know that this particular story came out last year, but I had a very difficult time finding that specific issue. When I saw a compilation last week with the awesome story about two guys finally tying the knot, I just knew I had to get it. I think this one's a keeper.

All this recent tide of goodwill about marriage equality has got me thinking of what the next generation would probably say. "What's the big deal with two guys (or girls) getting married? They love each other, yes? How come people years ago would be opposed to this? You old people are so weird."

Equality is something I feel passionately about. I find it odd that so-called modern-thinking folks would be all for equality and yet have these conditions. Equality is treating everyone fairly—it's as simple as that. Everything else is irrelevant: be it gender, sexual orientation, race, social status, and what have you.

But I know, baby steps. If it takes a popular comic to show to the young generation that marriage between two guys is perfectly fine and that there's no big deal about it, then I'm happy. Yes, baby steps.  Before we take that giant leap for equality.

The uber-romantic back cover

I bite my nails to the quick

Ah, the bard. If there's one writer I'm not looking forward to reading, it's him. I get paranoid, antsy, and disoriented, knowing that I'll get my hands close to any of his works. Ye olde English? I don't get ye, not very much. Now I understand this expression because I'm close to doing it: I bite my nails to the point of thumbtacks.

But there's no escaping him. He is everywhere. He still influences TV, movies, and, of course, theater. He has been redone, rewritten, repackaged, updated, made more palatable. I think he just may be alive. For all we know, Shakespeare is the original Elvis, and he has not yet left the building.

As I said, I can't escape him, even if I cross dress, pretend I died, tell everyone I'm busy avenging a relative's death because his ghost told me so, marry a shrew or become a shrew myself, or just basically be one in a pair of star-crossed lovers. Have I just listed some elements of his plays? As I said, very influential indeed. Effortless.

This month, the book club will be discussing one of his plays, "A Midsummer Night's Dream." I've found out that it's a comedy. Hmmmm... So no one dies? No one becomes a crazed woman and drowns herself? But wasn't AMND the play featured in the movie Dead Poets' Society? I recall that, during curtain, the prep school boys loved it. All those cheers, whistles, and yawps. So I know that AMND doesn't suck vacuum cleaners.

My first non-academic experience with Shakespeare was just last year. Wasn't that bad, not bad at all. Read about it here. This time around, I come better prepared. Graphic novel? Check. A Shakespeare handbook? Have it. The Royal Shakespeare Company edition of the play? Beside my bed. The collecting part is easy; the bard can even take pointers from me in that aspect. Now for the challenge—reading.

I've never really liked manga. I find it weird and artificial. (Manga, one more WTF shit coming from Japan. Solar-powered flashlights? I die. But: toilet seat warmers—crazy brilliant.) But I'll take all the help I can get. Besides, the colored panels are beautiful, in a weird and artificial way.

And The Essential Shakespeare Handbook published by DK is just a beautiful book. It has more information on Shakespeare than you actually need. It's like a calculus textbook, but with full color images of people in costume. Because we know, really, that calculus is highly relevant in our everyday life. You need Shakespeare and calculus to buy stuff from iTunes, or to take the train, or to have sushi. Really.

And yet another book that I find quite interesting is The Graphic Canon series. Such an ambitious project, a 3-volume set aiming to interpret important literary works in comics and visual form. Volume 1 includes very early works such as The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Iliad, Tao Te Ching, The Tale of Genji, and, what do you know, "A Midsummer Night's Dream"! AMND just runs for 5 pages though. Better than nothing. Shakespeare ignoramuses (ignorami?) can't be choosy.

I'm no English major, so wish me luck on the book discussion. I majored in science actually, but I do believe in pretty things like fairies. And, from what I Googled, AMND has a few characters who are fairies. Because we love fairies, especially fairy royalty, and the sprites who attend to them.

Eeny meeny miny moe

I've a happy problem: I can't remember if I've ever read Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I seldom reread, considering that there are still tons of unread books on my shelf.

I do remember reading The Brothers Karamazov on a whim back in high school. I recall that I surprisingly liked it. Back in high school, I went through a phase wherein I read most of an author's works if I enjoyed the 1st book of his that I read. This explains my extensive yellowing paperback collection of Stephen King, Agatha Christie, Jules Verne, and Clive Barker. Also, I must admit that I have Judith Krantz and Jackie Collins, too. Krantz and Collins are enjoyable on another level. Hihihihihi.

Anyway, I'll probably read/reread Crime and Punishment for the book club discussion sometime this year. The fact that I can't even remember reading it means that I just have to suck it up and just read the darn thing. I love me some Dostoevsky and it's been a while since I picked up one.

I did see a graphic novel of C&P at the bookstore and bought it on the spot. For a few minutes, I considered just reading this "lighter" version. When I say lighter, I mean just that: the graphic novel does weigh less.

Oh, there's one good thing about reading C&P now. Pevear and Volokhonsky, them husband and wife award-winning translators, did a new translation of this beloved work by Dostoevsky. I've read their translation of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina last year, and I must say that they did great work on it. (Yes, I actually compared a few versions just to check.)

Update:
I gave the graphic novel version to R. over the weekend. If I see it on my shelf, well, I just might choose the graphic novel instead of the full doorstop of a novel. Besides, if there's one person who understands graphic novels, it's R.

Awesome magazine is awesome

Last Saturday, I went to the Summer Komikon 2012 hoping to catch cosplayers and to get my copy of a magazine that was to be launched that same day. Too bad about the absence of cosplayers, they're always an interesting lot. I did get a copy of the magazine though, and I'm sure glad I did.

There has never been a local magazine devoted to YA fiction in the SF and fantasy genres. (Which is a bit weird really, as most of the books that sell in our bookstores belong to this genre.) Kwentillion aims to change that, as it features YA graphic fiction, short stories, interviews of graphic novelists, a few artworks of up and coming graphic artists, and a lineup of YA fiction in 2012.

I'm a bit surprised that it's selling for only Php 150 (around $3.50), considering the extent, the quality of the paper, and the full-color pages in the middle. But this is good, right? This means that teenagers need not shell out a significant fraction of their allowance to get a copy. It's basically almost the same price as a venti mocha frappuccino.

I feel that the strength of Kwentillion lies in the graphic fiction that appears on its pages. For the maiden issue, it featured a story steeped in Philippine mythology by Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo (the team behind the popular Trese series), the weirdly funny 'Poso Maximo' by Robert Magnuson, the wonderfully steampunk-ish 'High Society' by Paolo Chikiamco, and the space opera (space operatic?) themed 'Sky Gypsies' by Timothy Dimacali and John Bumanglag. For these stories alone, the magazine's price is totally worth it.

Of course, being in the book publishing industry for some years now, I'm particular about the layout of printed work. Some of the sections in the magazine have very few 'resting spaces' for one's eyes, such as the short story by Andrew Drilon entitled 'The Secret Origin of Spin-Man', the only non-graphic work of fiction in the magazine. I'm apprehensive if young adults would take the time to read it, since it does appear to be lengthy and text heavy, something which is all the more ubiquitous in a magazine that has lots and lots of visually stimulating panels of graphic fiction. The layout of the interviews featuring Manix Abrera and Chester Ocampo could use more write areas too.

Also, there seems to be a dearth of local YA non-graphic fiction available in bookstores. The magazine did feature a lineup of highly anticipated YA fiction to be released this year. The writers chose 11 titles, but only 1 is local. Maybe Kwentillion would change all this. It's the perfect time for publishers to tap local talent to come up with genre novels for this market.

It's an exciting time for YA fiction. We have the talent and ingenuity to succeed in this genre. Kwentillion makes us aware of this potential. Thumbing through its pages and seeing the artworks, I am amazed by the artistry of individuals, some just barely out of college. I have a huge admiration for this kind of talent, as I can't even draw stick figures.

Oh, one other thing. Perhaps Kwentillion can be less testosterone-y in the next issue? The short story and the graphic fiction all had male writers and artists. Must female writers be delegated to produce the feature articles only?

But hey, this is just the first issue. I'm sure that Kwentillion will just get more awesome with each issue. Kudos to Paolo Chikiamco, Budjette Tan, and their team for coming up with this magazine. Now I'm off to get my subscription!

Addendum (made after Paolo Chikiamco's comment):
There's a single female involved in the graphic fiction featured in Kwentillion -- the uber talented Hannah Buena. My apologies if I missed this in my original post.

No over-reading for this graphic novel please

Last year, I picked Craig Thompson's most recent graphic novel, Habibi, with apprehension. Why? Well, I didn't really like Blankets, his most famous work. I found it too heavy on the Christian theme. His earlier work, Good-bye, Chunky Rice, I just found so-so. It was compared to The Little Prince for reasons I don't know why, even after a reread. (For the record, I also have no strong feelings toward The Little Prince. I just found the illustrations cute.)

But thank goodness I still decided to buy Habibi. It's one beautifully illustrated graphic novel with a sprawling storyline. If you flip its pages, you'd understand why there's a 7-year gab between Blankets and Habibi. I think these are the most immaculately detailed drawings that I've seen in graphic novels. One can see that these pages do not need color to make the panels come alive. Just look at these sample pages.

 

And the story? It has breadth and texture. Basically, Habibi is a love story between Dodola and Zam set in a fictional Islamic country called Wanatolia. It's a love story that's somewhat painful to read in some parts. At the start, we see the child Dodola forced to marry a much older man. Then Thompson sets up the circumstances wherein the young Dodola assumes the responsibility of taking care of the baby Zam. Years pass and the two spend many of those in an abandoned ship in the dessert, with Dodola offering her body to passing men in exchange for food.

Dodola and Zam get separated when Dodola is abducted by the Sultan's men for his harem. In the harem, Dodola gets a reputation for her skills in satisfying the Sultan. She ultimately gets pregnant but loses her child when it gets murdered by one of the other women from the harem, done out of jealousy apparently. In another parallel narrative, we see how Zam finds himself in the company of eunuchs and eventually become a eunuch himself. It is this condition that lets him work in the Sultan's palace, thus setting the scene for his reunion with Dodola.

But the story is far from over yet. We see how a man named Noah takes care of our main characters, letting them live in his shanty amidst the landscape filled with all kinds of refuse. We read how Zam takes a job in a construction firm, allowing him to have enough money for him and Dodola to start afresh. The ending is a very sweet and redemptive one, especially after reading through all the hardships that Dodola and Zam go through.

A lot has been said that Habibi doesn't do much in terms of presenting the Islamic culture to the world. The male characters especially are rendered into stereotypes. I couldn't care less. I didn't read it for that reason. Thompson does do a good job in showing some of the aspects of Islam, methinks. And that I think is a bonus. I read Habibi for the engaging story. I flipped its pages because of the beautiful artwork. I bought it because it's a beautiful book.

Photo courtesy of R.

So will Thompson be more known because of Habibi? Perhaps. He's still more popularly known for Blankets than any of his works. It did win the Eisner after all. But Habibi, in my opinion, is even more satisfying than Blankets. Habibi had scope, whereas Blankets was very inward looking. Sure, Blankets was autobiographical, which may account for its introspection, but Habibi draws you into its fictional world with its detailed sense of place. It's wonderful to get lost in it.

Read this book if:

1. You'll read anything by Craig Thompson.
2. You like your graphic novels complete in themselves. No volumes and series please.
3. You love exploring other cultures and immersing yourself in far-off places.

Graphic novel roundup

This Saturday, the book club is focusing the discussion on graphic novels, something which I very rarely buy because (1) they're quite expensive and (2) I don't get them sometimes.

It's only recently (i.e., this year) that I decided to collect some 'seminal works' of graphic fiction. Some of them I pictured below. The rest are somewhere in my bookshelves. I don't have a lot of graphic novels in my shelves, although I make sure to buy the really good ones.

I loved David Small's autobiographical Stitches, which was nominated for a National Book Award. Charles Burns's Black Hole was a scary and mysterious read. Craig Thompson's Blankets somewhat put me off with its overly religious themes. I didn't quite understand Nate Powell's Eisner-winning work, Swallow Me Whole. Daniel Clowes's Ghost World is a gas. And I have yet to read Maus and From Hell.

So we're going to discuss Thompson's Habibi this Saturday. I loved it, and I'm very much interested to hear other people's thoughts about it. I couldn't care about his other two works though. Blankets and Good-Bye, Chunky Rice left no lasting impressions after the last page.

But my current favorite would be Tove Jansson's comic strip about the Moomin family. These tales are timeless. I have no doubts that these collected comic strips would still be enjoyed by future generations. It's such a treat to read the adventures of Moomin, Moominmamma, Moominpappa, the Snork Maiden, Sniff, Little My, and the rest of Jansson's wonderful creations.

This sequel lacks the oomph of the first

Fans of Carlo Vergara's graphic novel, Ang Kagila-gilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Zsazsa Zaturnnah, must be eagerly anticipating the sequel, the first part of which has just been released in the metro last week. Everyone loved Vergara's protagonist -- a nelly-ish gay guy who transforms into a Wonder Woman type of superhero named Zsazsa Zaturnnah. The first compilation was très enjoyable to say the least.

The sequel though, specifically the first of a planned three volumes, seems like an afterthought. Reading Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila feels like eating tofu after fasting for a long time -- it just doesn't satisfy you. For one, it's not as campy as the first. Yes, there are loads of gay lingo scattered throughout the dialogue, but these lines feel a bit contrived. They don't add to the humor at all; there are no LOL moments, just sniggers here and there if you do get the pop culture references.

Also, as a graphic novel, the sequel can get too talky in my opinion. I expect graphic novels to use the illustrations to tell the story. The long lines of text just draw the reader's eyes away from the drawings. Just look at the spread below to see what I mean.


Vergara has also introduced characters into the now diluted and uninteresting narrative. We're now acquainted with a superhero with bulging body parts here and there. Vergara is teasing us with this character. How could this mass of testosterone figure in the next 2 installments? What could possibly be the outcome of a partnership between him and Zaturnnah? Of course, the reader is made to wonder as to his alter ego.


Vergara's illustrations are still beautiful though. They're just as detailed and clean as the original. It's worth shelling out a few bucks just for the illustrations, which I think unfortunately is one of the very, very few reasons to get this graphic novel.


Oh well, here's hoping that the 2nd and 3rd installments improve on this volume. Bring back the fun, camp, and one liners please!

Read this book if:

1. You love graphic novels with a bit of camp.
2. You're comfortable with gay lingo.
3. You love graphic novels in series.
   

Touching, heartfelt, and true

I am probably one of the few persons left on Earth who do not appreciate The Little Prince. I feel that its message is too zen, too cryptic at some points. Thankfully there's Craig Thompson's beautiful graphic novel, Good-bye, Chunky Rice, whose message is just as profound as Saint-Exupery's beloved work.

Good-bye, Chunky Rice is indeed a fable, a tale about the friendship between a turtle named Chunky Rice and a mouse deer named Dandel. Chunky Rice decides to leave Dandel behind to search for something missing in his life and to find the place where he truly belongs.



Chunky Rice then boards a ship in the company of several eccentric characters: the oily captain named Charles, an animal-loving man named Solomon, and Siamese twin sisters named Livonia and Ruth. Through these characters, Thompson seamlessly weaves subplots into Chunky Rice's adventure.


But Good-bye, Chunky Rice is still about, well, Chunky Rice. Maybe he was wrong to leave Dandel behind, for he was always happy in her company. Dandel constantly pines for her friend, always throwing at the sea bottles with messages intended for her lost friend.

Several readers would definitely glean different meanings in Thompson's exquisitely drawn graphic novel. For me, that message is one of friendship: how it is important to recognize the importance of people who are always with us, never taking their existence for granted. Chunky Rice and Dandel complete one another. When one left the other, there was a natural tendency to wish the other back.


I'm not sure Good-bye, Chunky Rice would be enjoyed by kids though. While the style of the illustrations do seem to be intended for young readers, some of the panels depict sensitive content.

Thompson is more famous for Blankets and, recently, for Habibi. Compared to these two, Good-bye, Chunky Rice is minute. (It runs for just over 100 pages, as compared with the more than 600 pages each comprising Blankets and Habibi.) However, its themes of friendship and loss are more than enough to give it weight.

Read this book if:

1. You'll read anything by Craig Thompson.
2. You love fables.
3. You find turtles and deer mice cute.