The Education of Hopey Glass, Part 2

So, it definitely shouldn’t be called The Education of Hopey Glass. It’s a good title, but whereas Hopey’s adventures immediately leading up to her new job are good and all… it’s all about Ray’s story. Ray’s story kicks all kinds of butt.

It consists of seven chapters, usually only running a couple pages, and is all about Ray having a thing for Viv (Frogmouth), who doesn’t seem to have a thing for him. Complexing the situation is their mutual history with the occasionally present Maggie–Ray once dated her (I probably read about this relationship in Locas, but I’ve forgotten) and so did Viv. What ties this story to Hopey’s is that longing for Maggie, even though I’ll guess and say both Hopey and Ray are responsible for not having her.

But in Ray’s story, the desperate longing, the palpable regret, are things of beauty. Hernandez does each chapter a little different style-wise and the first, in noir-style (though the Incredible Shrinking Man reference isn’t very noir), did not impress me. I read it as a strip, not a chapter.

The second story kicks off the story proper–it’s Ray clinging to Viv, hoping she take him into her bed, while he sorts through all of the drama in her life (it’s never clearly explained, at least in the collection, what happens, but Ray thinks Viv’s friends kill her shithead boyfriend and so, then, does the reader). It becomes all very conversational–the second story is a long conversation about getting some keys–and Hernandez writes great narration for Ray.

The loneliness and the self-loathing are big points here. Hernandez never tries to make Ray particularly likable, but he’s likable anyway, as most self-loathing, passive protagonists tend to be.

Gradually, the narration takes over and Hernandez and Ray make all these wonderful (if depressing) observations.

And since it’s Love and Rockets, there’s a fantastic staring at the ceiling dream sequence.

Hernandez has some great panels–the tone frequently changes here, so he gets to do cartoon, noir and romantic drama (usually all in the same chapter). What I found most striking was the idealized Maggie. Not having read Rockets after Locas (until now), I find the perpetually unhappy Maggie a little strange (but it makes sense, I guess). Here, Ray’s got an idealized Maggie, much different from the always frowning, real one.

Art-wise, I think the noir chapter has to be the best, just because it gives Hernandez the most opportunity to crack his knuckles. The last chapter takes place at a comic con and it’s Jaime Hernandez name-dropping a bunch of indie guys… and it’s kind of cool, but it feels a little wrong… like he’s let Love and Rockets get hipster.

The Education of Hopey Glass, Part 1

I bought The Education of Hopey Glass thinking it was new–something about Fantagraphics’s solicitation text. Then I found out it was a collection of Love and Rockets Vol. II material and was fine (I don’t have any of the issues… my Love and Rockets collection consists of Palomar and Locas, as I gave away the first collection to a friend discovering comics–she wanted to know what to read after Watchmen and I figured, why not a little Love and Rockets when the rockets still played a major part).

The book’s a lovely hardcover, though the blackboard motif is confused on the back (the picture would be white on green, you know, chalk). There’s seven plus years between these stories and the ones I last read in Locas, not to mention four years since I read Locas. It’s been a while, while Hopey and Maggie still riding off together (even though a friend warned me it wasn’t going to last).

Jaime’s a lot different as an artist here than he was twenty years ago. The first piece in the collection, “Day by Day With Hopey,” is a set of seven shorts (ranging from four to twelve pages), chronicling an eventful and not eventful week for Hopey. She’s changing careers, which gives Jaime the chance to explore the fellowship–the camaraderie–people have with their co-workers. It’s only one of the days–and not even all of it (the biggest constant in the piece is Hopey and girlfriend Rosie)–but it really resonates. I think it’s in that scene–there’s one panel with an absurd expression on Hopey’s face–when I realized how different Jaime’s approach had become.

As a reintroduction to Love and Rockets, “Day by Day” is a lengthy rumination on restlessness and unhappiness. When Maggie does show up, she and Hopey’s relationship is a whole lot different than the last time I read the book. During this sequence, Jaime has a brief moment (I guess she’s a recurring character) with a superhero coming home for the night. This kind of detail shouldn’t seem so strange to me, but it really does. Gone are the days of dinosaurs.

Reading “Day by Day” as my return to Love and Rockets is probably a bad idea. I can appreciate a lot of things, but since I’m coming into it not knowing what’s going on… it’s problematic. Maggie shows up for the last “Day,” and it’s a touching scene. Hopey’s just started her job as a paraprofessional at a grade school (which encouraged a lengthy flashback to a Peanuts-influenced account of Hopey’s childhood) and Maggie comes to see how she’s doing. Even if I don’t know the context, the conclusion gives me some footing–Maggie smiling always was a good moment.

Jaime’s art has definitely got more comic strip-like, except for his still perfect close-ups.

I decided to split up my reading of the book for a couple reasons. First, since I’m so damn lazy about reading comics, but also because I wanted to give each section a chance to resonation. Oh, and third because what if one sections a little… lighter than the rest. I started reading the “Angel of Tarzana” strips and heavy they aren’t.

All-Star Superman #11 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely

If I recall correctly, Morrison’s only really cliffhung All-Star Superman once. Last issue, he did not, instead doing an intricately jumbled timeline with a real conclusion. This issue, he wraps up some of the things he talks about in the previous issue, but doesn’t show… namely, the new costume and a big fight. So there’s a great fight scene, featuring the Fortress of Solitude robots no less, but as usual, the issue’s greatest moments are Morrison’s human details.

Morrison’s got a great scene with Jimmy and Lois, even if it only lasts two pages, as they face off against Lex’s loony niece (who knew Morrison would do a Superman IV: The Quest for Peace homage?). Then there’s the scenes with Superman getting ready to leave the Fortress (for good). Or his face off with the villain. Early in the issue, Lex’s niece dismisses Superman as an annoying boy scout and Lex responds, telling her not to discount him in a fight. This issue shows both sides of that coin and beautifully.

At one point, Superman talks about he and Batman’s fantastic adventures and it plants the idea of a Morrison-penned World’s Finest, which gives me goosebumps.

But this issue definitely has a different feel to it. It starts and ends with Lex and, while Morrison’s love of the characters is still present, it’s very much about the narrative here. Being the second to last issue drives it, while Morrison’s approach to the characters and his enthusiasm for them give it shape. It’s just a little more epical than usual.

Giant-Size Creatures #1 by Tony Isabella and Don Perlin

This issue barely qualifies as a Werewolf by Night, with Isabella focusing mostly on Tigra. Jack Russell shows up for the first couple pages (he forgets it’s going to be a full moon, down in Mexico on vacation). Then he turns into the werewolf and stays the werewolf the rest of the issue. There’s even a sequence where the werewolf gets knocked out for twenty-four hours (Jack sleeping through the human-time).

But the issue’s darn good. Isabella writes Tigra well–it’s her origin as a cat-woman here–and comes up with an interesting bit for the werewolf. In explaining why the werewolf thinks to fight alongside her, it’s because the werewolf’s developed a crush. The end of the comic, after the crush is broken and the werewolf is alone, Isabella comes up with the simplest, yet most effective moment in the series so far. A single “third night” panel with the werewolf alone.

What Isabella does, using the werewolf as a supporting character (though Jack’s ever-present narration is ever-present), is give the werewolf (not Jack) some real development. Isabella writes the creature as lonely and somewhat confused, sympathetic and… human. The closest the series writers have ever come is with the werewolf’s concern for family members.

Perlin’s art here is also better than it is in the regular book. The werewolf looks less goofy–maybe Perlin just needs him in an action setting versus a horror one.

As for Tigra’s story, it’s a good cat people versus Hydra yarn. Isabella brings a lot of humor into it (Hydra members chastising each other and so on) and some good character development ones too. Isabella’s exposition is also real nice.

It’s a shame this issue is the best Werewolf by Night in so long.

Fallen Angel #21 by Peter David and J.K. Woodward

I thought, hoped and deluded myself the previous issue of Fallen Angel was an aberration. Sure, David’s had some iffy issues, but he was on a peak the last few years with Fallen Angel and X-Factor. Then, apparently, he fell off.

While this issue has better art than the last–J.K. Woodward’s attempts at conveying movement, the same motion lines I used as a six year-old, are pitiful however… Woodward’s a static artist–the writing might even be worse.

I’m going to spoil the ending, just because it’s stupid. New magistrate Jude is confessing his sins–Lee shows up for a panel this issue–but who is he confessing his sins to? Bete Noire is priest-free. He’s confessing his sins to his clerical collar. Peter David, who’s been comic books for twenty-three years, makes a narrative move M. Night Shyamalan would call cheesy.

The rest of the comic is some moronic adventure in China (I’m guessing it’s something Communist, just because of the red star on the missile), about Jude trying to kill a dictator to make the world a safer place. Or something.

David doesn’t explore the idea killing a dictator and his number two might not be the best move (the dictator is more moderate than his number two here, so what’s the number three like?). Instead, he just tries to get Lee in for a panel.

This issue just furthers my suspicion DC is handicapping the amount of Lee appearances for the IDW series. At this point, given David’s concentrating on dumb characters, I’m jumping ship. What I’ll do with the remaining issues I purchased, I have no idea. The IDW paper is too slick to wipe with.

F

Detective Comics #501-502 by Gerry Conway and Don Newton

When Lucius Fox and Alfred mysteriously run off to Paris together–after each receiving a telegram–does Bruce Wayne think the most obvious thing (an ebony and ivory gay marriage)?. Actually, we don’t know, because Conway never lets the reader know what Batman is thinking. Instead, Batman’s just a snoop. Admittedly, Lucius and Alfred running off to Paris together is a little strange, but who knows, maybe they’re just planning a surprise party for Bruce. Eventually, the contents of the telegram are revealed, but not until after Batman’s acted the control freak.

Once in Paris, there’s some great (hilarious) stuff with Batman introducing himself to the local police. There’s just something so wonderfully 1940s about it… Batman being an unofficial-official police detective or whatnot. It’s goofy, but somehow it really does work.

Finally–Conway paces the issues well, so my finally is referring to a first part revelation–it’s revealed both Lucius and Alfred are suspected of killing Mademoiselle Marie, a classic DC character. Well, then it’s revealed everyone knows Lucius didn’t kill her, they only invited him along to keep Alfred unaware, because Alfred is the suspect. And why doesn’t Alfred say anything in his own defense?

Because he’s the father of Mademoiselle Marie’s daughter. I love that DC let Alfred father a bastard. It’s fantastic.

The second issue is Batman solving the mystery. It gets a little confusing because Conway’s pace is so fast, it’s hard to keep track of all the Frenchmen.

Don Newton’s art here–as absurd as it is, Batman running around the Paris rooftops looks fantastic–is particularly good. There are some nice action scenes, but Newton’s Bruce Wayne, tourist, stuff is also good.

Conway’s story’s got a lot of effect–maybe because Alfred’s such a likable character. It’s a fine story, even if it features Bruce Wayne getting his ass kicked by an amateur.

B+

X-Men: Emperor Vulcan #1-5 by Christopher Yost and Paco Diaz

A lot of Emperor Vulcan is good. Specifically, the first two issues. Yost has a solid handle on the characters, even if his dialogue is a tad expository and lame. Paco Diaz’s art is also better in the first two issues than in the last three, since I spent the last three repeatedly checking the credits, shocked by the drastic incompetencies appearing.

But overall, it’s a failure.

Following two Ed Brubaker stories–Deadly Genesis and The Rise and Fall of the Shi’ar Empire–this series was supposed to be about Havok going after crazy brother and new emperor Vulcan. It’s more about Havok and the Starjammers (the Starjammers never get called out by name, like the X-Men appearing in the title do, which is noticeable… especially since I don’t know the Starjammers as well as the X-Men) trying to sway Shi’ar to their side, to a revolt against Vulcan. It’s not even good political intrigue, because of Yost’s simplistic scope. But the characters are still compelling.

Then the big thing starts–it’s not a Winchester ‘73, it’s about a big, bad ass alien species (never before seen, of course) and fighting with them.

In the end, Yost pulls a Marvel Brubaker. He cuts off the story, leaving it incomplete, but unlike Brubaker… there’s no sign Yost’s going to get to finish it. Havok’s now more powerful than Vulcan, but is probably imprisoned along with the rest of the Starjammers–except lovebirds Korvus and Marvel Girl, who do have enough chemistry (under both Brubaker and Yost) to have a limited of their own.

Emperor Vulcan’s sales, I guess, were okay, but not enough to warrant a conclusion, which is bull. Brubaker passed the buck on finishing his story with Rise and Fall (regardless of its quality) and now so has Yost.

Maybe if Marvel wanted it to have better numbers, they should have got someone who’s art a browser wouldn’t laugh at.

D

B.P.R.D.: 1946 #1-5 by Mike Mignola, Joshua Dysart and Paul Azaceta

I’ve never read a Hellboy or B.P.R.D. comic before, but I knew I wanted to read 1946 (the Dysart, of course). I didn’t know anything about it besides the title, so when it turned out to be set in a divided Berlin (something familiar before from movies and study), I was immediately delighted. Whoever–Mignola or Dysart–researched it did a great job; the setting is both realistic and cinematic.

The issues themselves read faster than I would expect, just because there’s so much content. The story follows young professor Bruttenholm through bureaucracy for a bit, then kicks into a big Nazi vampire plan. It’s really terrible how the Nazis’ (specifically, Hitler’s) propensity for awfulness have given pop culture so many successful creations. My favorite part of 1946 has to be how they handle Bruttenholm’s Soviet counterpart (their occult specialist). It’s an ancient demon posing as a young girl. Besides the hilarious tea parties, watching everyone defer to the child is hilarious. The developing relationship between her and Bruttenholm is also one of 1946’s gems, since the rest of the supporting cast is real supporting. The first issue makes a big show of introducing Bruttenholm’s assigned soldiers, but they’re immediately unmemorable.

Mignola and Dysart take real advantage of the five issues, saving the majority of the action for the final one. Even though each issue–more or less, I think the third or fourth is a breeze–has a complete feel, there’s the overarching narrative, culminating beautifully in the fifth issue. What’s so nice about 1946 is how well the plot and the scenic writing mix. The plot’s got these wonderful revelations about the Nazis and the occult and their sinister plans (though there is one big historical booboo for the sake of sensationalism… the Nazis would never have plotted against the second-most anti-Semitic world power, the United States–I suppose since it wasn’t Hitler, it can be excused… as Hitler adored American anti-Semitism), while the scenes are all cinematic in the adjective’s best sense.

Paul Azaceta’s art’s good, as usual, and the whole thing has me wanting more B.P.R.D. Also, is there some edict little Hellboy has to be adorable?

A

Werewolf by Night #18-19 by Mike Friedrich and Don Perlin

Friedrich continues the wrap-up of the series subplots–the mysterious neighbor is revealed to be a werewolf too (with black fur, since the guy’s black) and the werewolf-hunting cop shows up and the Conway-heavy Committee makes some silly appearances–while doing a couple neat things. Well, one neat thing. Friedrich ties it all into something going on over in Dracula Lives!, a nice tie-in. I’m trying to think if there’s anything else neat… hmm. No.

Topaz disappears, as does Jack’s weird older man friend (you know, the Macaulay and Michael thing), not to mention Jack’s stepfather (sorry, uncle). Friedrich at least thinks enough to tie the issues to the last two of three full moon nights, which gives the issues a solid frame.

The rest is dedicated to fight scenes and set-up for fight scenes. First it’s the werewolf versus a Committee assassin (Ma Mayhem, Mrs. Garrett as a killer), then it’s the werewolf versus the black werewolf (I’m shocked Marvel didn’t call him the Black Werewolf), then it’s the two werewolves versus the two vampires. Maybe there’s a solo werewolf versus the vampires scene too.

The second issue’s cover–the werewolf on the moon fighting vampires–is amazing, but Friedrich can’t make the absurdity of it work. Most of these issues comes off like a strange James Bond thing (the Committee is just SPECTRE and the moon setting is just Diamonds Are Forever).

As for the Perlin-y art?

It’s awful. Perlin can’t draw perspective in faces, which makes everyone–werewolf and vampire alike–have two dimensional features.

C

Legends of the DC Universe #14 by Mark Evanier and Steve Rude

This issue is a competent Kirby homage, but it’s strangely detached (especially for a story called The American Evolution and featuring a major subplot about being selfless). Steve Rude’s art is gorgeous, which is no surprise, but Evanier’s script is lifeless. His Jimmy Olsen is a compelling protagonist, however, even as he moves through the story. It feels like a movie serial without the necessary expository narration. Is the woman in the trench coat really a double agent or are trench coats just in style?

The story’s double-sized for no particular reason (other than DC didn’t want to split it in half) and it’s a bit of a bore. Rude’s art, as always, can get on through even the most lackluster narrative and there’s a lot of nice stuff. Between Rude’s Kirby homage monsters and his excellent Superman chases a missile, he makes up for everything. Some of the best art is the Jimmy driving through the country to get to the other side of Metropolis (see the serial reference now) and then the Daily Planet rooftop at the end.

But it’s clear Evanier had an artist and an idea and no story. The story bookends on selfish Daily Planet doorman (who’s got to be in his thirties, but looks Jimmy’s age) and the didactic storytelling is eye-rolling. I get the point, I get why it’s cute Jimmy ends giving the reader a thumbs up for helping his or her neighbor… but Evanier’s script doesn’t earn the moment at all.

C