American Library Association Barbara Gordon Batgirl Bookmark

Thinking about Banned Book Week has me thinking not just about the books, authors, publishers & history of banned books, but about the real heroes in this censorship battle: librarians.

Every day librarians are the front line in our battle to be free readers, but they also come to our rescue in other ways… Helping a little kid reach a book; assisting a grown adult in finding the right book or research material; keeping libraries stocked & organized so that we can be delighted, educated, inspired; coaching the unfamiliar on how to use the Internet; reading to children, keeping kids entranced long enough for mommy to find something for herself to read; and even shushing obnoxious jerks so that you can read and research in peace.

Librarians are superheroes, you know.

I’m certainly not the first to think of librarians as superheroes. My recollection is that this all started with Batgirl; I could be wrong, but watch this retro test episode for a possible Batgirl TV series.

In any case, there’s a whole plethora of librarian as superhero images collect. Naturally, the American Library Association uses Batgirl to promote libraries, but other libraries and associations have created their own librarian superhero mascots. Penn State’s Eiche Library recently had a contest to name their official 2008 Open House mascot (Sam Wagner won with The Database Ace, a.k.a. Kat A. Log; signature move - The Eiche Strikee).

The New Jersey State Library not only has Super Librarian, but she has her own comic. In fact, there are many comics in which librarians are featured or even the main character. And you’ll find that many comic artists love to draw superhero librarians. So far, my favorite is Jolly Jack’s sketch titled Overdue. (If you’ve paid the fines I have, you’d certainly fear the stamp!)

If you aren’t quite ready to invest dollars or space in collecting librarian superheroes, why not go for digital renderings? LibrarianDressup.com has an online version of a paper doll you can put in caped crusader costumes and then send as postcards.

‘How To Draw Comics the Marvel Way’ is pretty much my bible… with Spider-Man, of course, playing the role of Job, and The Thing as Moses.

A battered, blue copy of ‘The Marvel Way’ has been knocking around my house since the late 70s, and I appropriated it for my own devices in the 1980s - replete with clean, dynamic John Buscema artwork and Stan Lee knowledge. From it, I taught myself an amazing array of basics and visual storytelling techniques. Such a valuable resource it is that it’s still published today in its original form, and I regard it as an essential tool in the arsenal of any comic artist - so intensely that it’s just about ridiculous.

Still, comics are a language more than they are a simple artform, and just like language, they’re ever-changing. ‘The Marvel Way’ has moved to the hallowed position of ‘Old Testament’, while a crop of new ‘how to’ manuals have sprung up to address this changing world of comics - not all of them good. The DIY comic movement, the indie & manga genres, online comics, changing materials, and the digitization of the process have given us a whole new lexicon to communicate with, based on these Marvel fundamentals. I’ve collected ‘The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Creating a Graphic Novel’, Scott McCloud’s ‘Making Comics’, and more graphic novels than I can count as I try to dig deeper and deeper into the culture and language of Comics. I’ve avoided the manuals that were obvious half-assery.

Most recently, I acquired ‘Drawing Words and Writing Pictures’ from First Second Books (who make all kinds of wonderful), and by Jessica Abel and Matt Madden, always seeking a few pearls of wisdom that the other books might have omitted, and the only thing I’m disappointed about is that this was published AFTER I finished teaching a high school level comics course. I’m still questioning whether or not I totally sucked as a teacher, and I’m even exploring this introspection, coincidentally, in an extensive comic. I think that this book would have helped significantly. Also, having students that were a little less preoccupied with The Hills.

‘Drawing Words’ is structured like a 15-week course, each chapter adding onto previous lessons with new layers of knowledge and technique, and even providing sample assignments to hone these new ideas, making it completely ideal for a semester’s worth of drawing classes, while still working for the solo aspiring comic artist. It provides plenty of examples from throughout the history of comics, with a large visual focus on the indie comics scene. I’d like to see superhero comics and ‘indie’ comics play nice together, because there’s almost no acknowledgment between the two about how influential and important they are to one another. I’ll just assume that this was due to copyright issues and not a conscious omission. Regardless, it’s the first manual in the collection of manuals where the authors come from a dominantly ‘indie’ perspective, and it’s well-informed about all manners of comics anyhow. As a side note, Jessica Abel was one of the people gracious enough to sign my Bizarro Comics book sometime last year.

The content in any of these books is pretty standard stuff, but it’s the presentation that brings it to life. Talk of clarity in storytelling and images, penciling, panel layouts and their uses, lettering, inking, basic anatomy, characters - it’s all there, while still basic and intelligent enough to keep the reader following. The book even speaks of a forthcoming second volume to delve into these principles even deeper, and given the depth of this one, I can’t wait to see what’s next. I have a feeling that volume two is where all of the real secrets live, even if I can’t figure out what’s missing yet.

The book itself is a big, floppy paperback - almost unwieldy, but very handsome and conveniently tabbed on the side, to easily find your current lesson. So far, it’s gotten me to move outside of my familiar ballpoint pen world and into exploring different india inks, brushes and pen nibs - which is a good thing. Somewhere inside, in some intangible place, it offered encouragement to try a few new things, which is really a gift - and at $30 (and even less on Amazon), it’s a completely affordable alternative textbook. I’m a little in love with it.

Every artist in the medium - or at least the really good ones - will add completely new phrases and words to the language of comics, will do something to resonate in a new way, or will communicate something important to just one new person. It’s not an easy job, but the more, the merrier. Come on in and learn the language - it’s one thing to understand it, but another thing to speak it.

When people asked me what I was doing this weekend, I simply told them that I was ‘going to a comic convention’, since ‘comic convention’ was a lot easier to say than ‘a small gathering of independent press outlets, artists and aspiring creatives’. Sure, ‘comic convention’ conjures up frightening images of sweaty awkwardness, but it was still easier than trying to succinctly explain MOCCA Fest, which slyly escapes a simple definition.

MOCCA Fest is the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art’s annual ‘convention’ event - usually small enough to be comfortably held within a relatively compact space, and wall-to-wall full of awesome. This year, MOCCA took over a couple of floors in SoHo’s hip Puck Building, just as they did last year. Assembled therein were a great collection of artists whose main specialty was ‘narrative illustration’, almost none of it superhero related, if that helps set the tone. Yes, most of the attendees and exhibitors were of a gentler sort, their preferred comics being about humiliating autobiographical foibles, tales of subtly bizarre human interaction, and the occasional lonely robot / sasquatch / squid. Plus, most of the visitors and artists were pretty attractive.

I’d attended MOCCA last year as a spectator and had every intention of gathering together a collection of my own works to vend this year, but those plans had fallen though without much warning, and I found myself without a table to experience the event from. Regardless, after checking out the exhibitor list and seeing Chip Kidd’s name, I was compelled to make the trip, if only so Kidd could sign my Bizarro comic. I had no other goal, except to maybe get myself another original Batman drawing from a talented artist somewhere. If absolutely nothing else, I’d emerge inspired.

After traversing most of the well-arranged Festival floors, I found that about 75% of everything on display were things that I’d seen, bought or passed on buying last year. This isn’t to say that the attending artists weren’t being wonderfully productive during the intervening year, nor to say that selling the same stuff two years in a row offends me in any way, but I just didn’t find myself in a buying mood. Maybe it was the record heat and my body’s sudden decision to produce an inhuman quantity of sweat that left me feeling awkward, or maybe it was the lack of assigned respite spaces where one might sit and collect one’s thoughts and/or mop off, but I was out of sorts. The top floor of the Puck Building had a skylight, which illuminated everything wonderfully, but also made the floor feel like a greenhouse. I was grateful that the audience was of the hygienic sort.

After searching for a while and being unable to get help from the volunteer MOCCA staff or the attendee program, I just couldn’t find Chip Kidd. While I really, really wanted that signature, I’d tried and failed at signatures before, so I was prepared for the crushing disappointment. I still managed to find my highlights, and I consoled myself with a great little pre-framed Batman cartoon by Neil Fitzpatrick. His table was set up with small framed drawings of all kinds of pop culture icons, and I fell a little in love with all of them. How can you not love The Noid? He had his own video game where he killed things with a yo-yo! Let’s see Chuck Norris do THAT.

‘Small paintings’ seemed to be a recurring theme at the show, with every other booth displaying quantities of original mini-art - some clearly made for profit, and some made out of love and energy. The price range fluctuated wildly, all the way from $10 to $60 for similar works, but it was nice to see affordable, transportable art at MOCCA, clearly sympathetic to the poor creator who also would like to support other poor creatives with limited living spaces.

The most surprising part of the day came while we were wandering around and just happened upon a table where notable (and my personal favorite) film director, Michel Gondry, was set up behind a magic marker sign and just kinda hanging out. The fact that Gondry was not announced as some kind of attending demi-god completely boggles my mind, but only slightly more so than the fact that there were no lines to meet him. I wasn’t even aware that he’d be there, and I was star-struck just long enough for him to get up and wander casually off without noticing me. I later found out that he was signing his new book, and drawing portraits of his admirers in the margins - something I’ll forever kick myself for not pursuing more actively. Still, it was enough to just walk on by and witness the creative unpretentiousness that I love him for.

I’d brought 5 copies of my own comic, Coptopus, to hand out to deserving and / or notable people, but only had the presence of mind to give one to Kristin Hogan, a girl who was selling some breathtaking squid dolls. Her propagation of cephalolove simply warranted a free copy of Coptopus.

Noted artist Tara MacPherson refused to look up at anyone who visited her table, and I don’t think it was bashfulness as much as ‘get me the hell out of here’. Just thought I’d throw that out there.

If you plan on attending MOCCA, or any small press event, bring lots of small bills, since most of the folks there aren’t going to be set up with credit card machines or cash registers. It’s strictly hand-to-pocket, and they’ll be grateful if you leave them with a bunch of singles. More than half of the comics you’re going to buy aren’t regulation size - so your backing boards and bags aren’t going to help you too much. Learn to embrace the xerox copy - some of those, even if hastily assembled and completely devoid of monetary value, are some of the more amazing things you’ll ever read.

And with any luck, you’ll be buying a plethora of comics from my table next year.

As a collector who often seeks to complete ongoing collections, I can appreciate what Scott Beatty is going for in his 200-page tome, The DC Comics Action Figure Archive. Indeed, I’ve learned to love the process of archiving things both as a librarian and as an overactive collector who needs to keep things organized lest they ultimately serve as the seeds of my destruction.

The DCCAFA is full of great photographs of toys, cut out arranged in a familiar ‘DK Guide’ style against white backgrounds, with clear labels and brief descriptions that include information about the year of production, the company of origin and accessories that each figure came with. The figures in the book (all, obviously, based on DC Comics characters, so no Spider-Men here), range from companies like the now-defunct Mego, Kenner, and ToyBiz, to Hasbro, DC Direct, and Mattel - all of whom have produced DC toys at some point and get equal time on the pages. This collection of toys displayed next to each other, especially in the vast Batman section, really shows the evolution of the action figure as both collectible and plaything, while the entire book presents the lowly action figure as a not-so-lowly evolving art form and idea that is somehow granted further validity by putting it all in a big, hardcover book. You know, like when you put pin-ups in hardcovers and suddenly they’re ‘art’ and not ‘perverse’.

The discussion of figure making and figure history is minimal as the author presumes a certain level of previous experience with figures on the part of the reader, with the book’s main focus being on the toy photos peppered throughout the columns of descriptions. It serves as a survey of very basic figure information, and an excellent starting point towards completing your own collection. All of the figures are arranged alphabetically throughout, though by character name, and not the series that they appeared in. Most listings are only a few words, with actual pictures appearing for random figures throughout. While I’d love to see every Lex Luthor standing side by side, this is, again, a ’starting point’.

By the definition of the book, ‘action figure’ includes things like Minimates and Pocket Heroes, but omits statues and static things like Heroclix and pewter figurines.

Despite the thoroughness, the book cuts off in the middle of 2007 - which is one of the perils of paper publishing encyclopedic references, especially in a digital age. Mattel’s DC Universe and JLU lines, and DC Direct’s many line, have made significant additions towards this archive in the short time since publication. The pages aren’t arranged in a format that would be especially welcoming towards an updated edition (though there’s a ton of white space on every page) - so don’t expect an ‘every toy ever’ perspective, but so look forward to the pretty pictures. Page 130 seems to omit the DC Superheroes Mongul figure that was released in early 2007. but I’ll allow that it was probably released on the cusp of when the book was being sent to the publishers. Also note that page 140’s ‘The Penguin’ (in the upper right hand corner) has the wrong image attached to it. The pictured Penguin is actually from ‘The New Batman Adventures’, and is very different from the details listed for ‘The Batman’ Penguin. Page 109 misidentifies two of the Killer Crocs listed on the page. So what I’m saying is ‘proceed with caution, but remain delighted’. This is probably the last point that the entirety of the DC action figure world can be encapsulated in a single book this handsomely.

It’s only been in the past few years that my love of comics has led me down the long and twisted road of comic book history - especially with modern comics of often resurrecting forgotten characters and plot points from bygone eras. Especially with my forays into drawing my own comics, knowing WHY I’m drawing comics and the efforts and styles of all of the artisans who preceded me has a real value.

Running Press recently released The Marvel Vault, an extra large spiral-bound, glossy, full-color history of the Marvel Universe, and it’s a beautiful thing. Not only does it capture the general feeling of every era throughout Marvel’s history (up until the time of the X3 and Ghost Rider movies, and the ‘Civil War’ in the comics), but it discusses important, era-defining plot points, paralleled with the artists who came and went from the books and the greater context of everything. Every detail is accompanied by large, clear reproductions of comic pages, sketches, photos, and ephemera by way of illustration. It’s a great jumping-on point for anyone who wants a brief history of the Marvel Universe in terms of both artists and the evolution of various characters and stories.

But that isn’t what makes The Marvel Vault impressive. Spaced throughout the book are a dozen clear pages that are studded with pockets, and in each page are a handful of reproduced collectibles from throughout Marvel’s history. Among these are the original Sketches of Namor the Sub-Mariner (Marvel’s very first super-character), trading cards, stickers and letters from the Marvel fan clubs and conventions, a Marvel Comics stock certificate, and my favorite, a mini Marvel No-Prize comic that details a series of hilarious errors that were accidentally left within the pages of Marvel comics. If Marvel’s been anything throughout their entire history, it’s self-effacing underneath Stan Lee’s riotously overblown (and always semi-sarcastic) statements of greatness. All of these ‘museum’ items are paper, so while the ‘Howard the Duck for President’ badge is no longer a badge, it is a nifty vinyl sticker now. He’s my write-in vote this year anyhow.

There could always be more, but it’s definitely enough.

Because all of this stuff is in pockets, every item can be removed and inspected. Some are branded with a tiny indication that they are indeed ‘REPRODUCTIONS’, but it doesn’t distract from the fact that there’s some neat stuff hidden within the pages. The book doesn’t rely on what could easily be seen as gimmickry, nor does it rely solely on a well-grasped (but general) understanding of the history of Marvel and its artists and writers. It holds both of these aspects in fair balance, making for a neat addition to the Marvel shelf. It’s like a whole collection that’s already been pre-collected for you, and if you’re after the genuine articles, this is a great place to start the hunt. And above all, it’s FUN.

The book has a cover price of $50, so if you’re buying it from your local bookstore, get a SEALED copy. The many removable parts will surely provide far too much temptation to the sticky-fingered browsers of the graphic novel section. So, while buying it sealed will guarantee completion, also be warned that the loosely-bound spiral pages (and oversized cardboard cover) have a tendency to bend and ding very easily, and some of the ‘museum’ items have been slid into their pockets with bent corners & such - though I see this as just one more step towards authenticity. And there’s a Star Wars Museum-in-a-Book too!

Ultimately, it’s a pleasing and interesting addition to the Marvel-related library.

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