Pointless Man

Like Blankets , To the Heart of the Storm is a memoir of youth, and very much worth reading. However, while Craig Thompson's art is moving, evocative, and highly poetic, Eisner's work in Storm is simply masterful in its heavy use of realism and selective reliance upon more subtle symbolism. The novel opens with a brief explanation in prose of the general feeling of the draft, and the effect it had on those it brought in to the armed services in the very late '30s and early forties, before it drops us next to Willie, himself drafted into World War II. Riding a train to boot camp, Eisner stares out a window, framing his stories there. From this initial vantage, we are shown and then brought into his childhood in episodic fashion. We are given very atmospheric tellings of his parents' histories before Eisner goes on to tell us of himself: his fights, his first romantic experiences, early jobs, friendships, the racism he faced as a Jew, and the 'old world' polit...

Absolutely awesome. It doesn't hit you at first. You flip through it, and, sure, it's got some nifty layouts, but the inking doesn't draw you in. No, it's the writing that does it. This is why it's nowhere near as pretentious as you might think for the book to be subtitled 'an illustrated novel by CRAIG THOMPSON'. But here's the thing, just as Will Eisner envisioned for the genre, Craig is able to make you read the art just as much as his writing. Blankets is replete with visual metaphor, literal flights of fancy, and real, honest feeling. Even the linework and lettering fit beautifully and (more suprisingly) explicitly into the way you read things. Brilliant. Someday, maybe you'll walk into your local comic shop, or some big Barnes and Noble, whatever; you'll see Blankets chilling there, waiting for you to pick it up. The natural response will be to flip through and remark, disinterestedly, "Cool," before you walk on to something n...

I don't care what the Bible says about everyone actually knowing God is real. Psh. When I invoke God, the casual blasphemy is only made sweeter by my utter lack of belief in anything remotely like a deity. Silly ass nonsense.

In speaking of Phonogram (which is excellent, self indulgent work, by the way), I mentioned how weird it was to realize 12 years had passed since I discovered Britpop, and to think on just how good and dead the scene was now. Whereas it had once been vibrant, canny, and full of promises, it seems mostly dated and silly in retrospect. I loved that stuff once, you know. Some of it still hits me. Well, I had one of those moments this morning before heading off for work. Different material, though. For some reason, I was thinking about late '90s J-rock. It's been about five years since I was avidly following Japanese pop culture in the form of manga, anime, and music. Anyway, I decided to check up on a few bands I remembered from back then. Luna Sea, Siam Shade, the Yellow Monkey. Broken up, years ago. All gone. No more. About the closest I've ever become to being part of a 'scene' was my time from '97 to '01 as an otaku, anime fanboy, or whatever you want to c...

Old. ^_^

I remember in high-school, I was digging on the Velvet Goldmine soundtrack . Now, Roxy only contributed maybe a song or two to that disc, but their influence was all over it, what with a couple covers, a track from Bryan Ferry, and another from Brian Eno. My brother, Devin, came down the stairs with a couple of stoner friends, declaring, "You listen to some gay music," or so. Heh. Like I care. Roxy Music is the awesome. Anyone who hates on them doesn't like their rock creative. I think probably told him I'd kick his ass if he liked, regardless. Course, he ducked that fight.

I'm a sucker for being let in on the creative process, especially when such need and joy are part of it. I can dig that. --This post will be expanded upon later, I think.--