The Four Color Media Monitor

Besides the propaganda Comics Beat was promoting from the past decade, there's also this list of what they consider best of the year containing fishy choices. For example, Batman: Last Knight On Earth:

When I originally thought about including this story on my best of 2019 list, the third and final issue was supposed to already be on the shelves. Due to time crunches and schedule changes, the final chapter in Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo’s epic Batman saga was pushed back to December 15th, but even without that final issue I’m confident in saying this (currently incomplete) mini-series is one of the best comics I read all year. The creative team have spent years testing the Caped Crusader, but this storyline serves as a bookend for all of the trials and tribulations they’ve forced him to endure; in short, it’s their version of the character’s death, his final plunge into hell before he can finally head to the giant batcave in the sky.

Set years in the future, long after magic and the Green Lantern Corps have disappeared from the DCU, readers follow Batman through an unrecognizable world, one where the hero’s partner-in-crime is Joker’s re-animated head. The building sense of mystery and dread makes it hard to put the book down, but what really makes the book compelling is its examination of what it means to be Batman and whether or not Bruce (or cloned versions of him) can ever truly accomplish his mission. Whether the years long Snyder and Capullo collaboration has been your cup of tea or not, The Last Knight on Earth is one of the most intriguing, irresistible books coming from any publisher.

Oh, just what the world needs. Not only another Batbook, but one that seems to belittle magic and the GLC! Then, there's this take on a Black Cat miniseries:

“Consider the cat.” That’s opening line for the Black Cat series and, really, consider the cat you must. This is a great superhero comic, up there with Al Ewing‘s Immortal Hulk in how it fully embraces a genre and sees it all the way through. What’s horror for Ewing’s Hulk is ’60s and ’70s crime capers for Jed MacKay’s Black Cat. There’s a French noir feel to the story that gives the comic a more serious tone, but it doesn’t overextend itself. Travel Foreman’s and Michael Dowling’s art keeps everything grounded, even as the heists go into magical territory. They also keep the story within the confines of the crime caper style, making sure everything clicks.

One of the comic’s most impressive feats, though, lies in how it moves away from the ‘high school teen’ look Black Cat’s been forced into for so long and reintroduces the character as a master burglar that can hold her own with the best of them. And it does this without turning the character into Catwoman. Whereas DC’s cat burglar is more femme fatale, Marvel’s is more finessed robber, a heist planner that loves when a plan comes together.

Keep an eye out for this one in 2020. It’s quality storytelling, unafraid to venture into mature territory in terms of depth rather than flashiness and oversexualization.

So male homosexuality and its own brand of sexuality - which does include "oversexualization" in its own way is acceptable, but female sexuality is not? That's what this insult to the intellect sounds like. I've got a bad feeling about the story's turning Felicia into a "master burglar" too, because she all but moved away from that angle as she mostly reformed since her debut in 1979. Also, what do they mean by mature territory and seriousness, considering sexualization is a form of mature and serious theme in its own way? It's not hard to guess what they'd say about Marilyn Monroe, in that case. Now, what's this they tell about a comic called Bloom:

Although I read Bloom way back in January, I’ve thought about it at least once a week since and recommended it to more than a dozen people. Falling in love can be complicated and messy and hard, especially in your late teens and early 20s; still, falling in love is thrilling and intense and euphoric. This book captures all of this nuance through a story of one summer, two boys, and a bakery, and it will leave you with a feeling of warmth that sticks with you for months.

I've got a feeling it'll leave me with a bad aftertaste for that much time. Say, and what was that they were saying about "oversexualization", again? Because if this book contains anything like that involving men...well, you get the idea. Oh, and what's this they have to tell about a Conan story written by Jason Aaron?

If you know me, you’ll think that a character like Conan the Barbarian isn’t for me, and you’d be right. I’m not a huge sword and sorcery guy, and I don’t connect to characters like Conan for a myriad of reasons. That being said, the current Conan the Barbarian series by Jason Aaron, Mahmud Asrar, Matthew Wilson, Travis Lanham, and guest artists Gerrardo Zaffino and Garry Brown, somehow ticks all the right boxes for me. It’s gorgeous and reflective, providing an episodic glimpse into the life of the Cimmerian warrior-turned-king of the land.

There’s an over-arching story to Aaron’s overall 12-issue story (concluding this January), but I really mean it when I say you can pick up literally any issue of this series and read it as a standalone story. It’s incredible writing, as Aaron feeds the reader pieces of the Conan’s final story throughout the series. Asrar is putting in the work of his career here, as his art reaches its zenith with colourist Wilson, whose work makes the world Conan inhabits a living, breathing place. I was never interested in Conan because he represents this overly-machismo kind of character that I find distasteful, but Aaron taps into something mythical with the journey of Conan’s life from lowly fighter and mercenary to this imposing and tired king. Aaron’s take on the guy is more of a Mad Max figure, roaming the world and getting into adventures, where he meets who these stories are really about.

Hmm, does this mean the reviewer considers Conan nothing more than "toxic masculinity"? Well, it was kind of obvious already Aaron thought so too, recalling he injected similar propaganda into his Thor stories. To think that Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor-Smith went to all that trouble to develop Robert E. Howard's creations into comics...for nothing. Thomas himself admitted in the Dark Horse reprints intros and afterwards some of the elements used could be considered questionable taste by today's standards, and if improvements needed to be made in how to depict a character with flaws, it could always be done, and probably was years before anyway. But who are these dummies to do it? They're as unworthy as they claim male Thor is. There's even this brief about Copra that could be worth commenting on:

Copra is back, baby! My favorite comic series of the last decade has been on hiatus while creator Michel Fiffe worked on projects like Bloodstrike: Brutalists for Image and G.I. Joe: Sierra Muerte for IDW. When it was announced that Bergen Street Press, the home of Corpa collected editions, would be shutting its doors, fans of Copra waited and debated where Copra‘s trades would move to. And then the announcement came down that not only were Copra‘s trades moving to Image, but Michel Fiffe would reluanch the series with a new #1 there as well. Picking up right where 2017’s Copra #31 left off, Copra #1 proved to be both longtime and new-reader friendly, with a backup feature that took new readers issue by issue from Copra‘s original #1 through now. Issue #2 is on the stands with #3 soon to follow. This series makes me love comics more with every new issue.

But does the reviewer love how Fiffe's mediocre art style was used on GI Joe? Such basic art may work in the indies, but not in something higher profile where you expect better art standards. And why must this kind of book be what makes him "love" comics, but not anything where the standards could be higher? They go on to fawn over "DCeased":

In a year filled with line-wide crossovers and events, DCeased proves that sometimes it’s best to keep your story under a single title. This six-issue series is told by Tom Taylor with art by Trevor Hairsine and Neil Edwards, inks by Stefano Gaudiano, colors by Rain Beredo and letters by Saida Temofonte, and begins with the DC Universe’s unthinkable event. The anti-life equation is solved and, through the internet, infects heroes and civilians alike. It’s cape and cowl action/drama at its best – and from the best the genre has to offer.

Every issue of this mini had my jaw drop at least once. As Taylor’s proven, he can get to any character’s tragic flaw in a heartbeat and he does so here mercilessly, giving DCeased shock without ever feeling cheap. Lines from Hairsine and Edwards are brutally realistic, while Gaudiano’s inks pack in the detail and Beredo’s colors paint the bleak tone that accompanies the arrival of super powered zombies. Altogether, DCeased is an unmissable arc for fans of these characters.

If this is supposed to be a living-dead zombie yarn, then the bad news is, it's a tasteless cliche decades ago. Sure, limiting a story involving a lot of DCU cast members to just one miniseries is welcome, but that still doesn't mean the story as seen here is. There's also this sugary take they give on a new miniseries based on the Dial H For Hero anthology of yore:

For the longest time I only knew writer Sam Humphries as the “funny” writer until a friend clued me into his deep character work with Jessica Cruz in Green Lanterns. With Dial H, Humphries’ comedy skills are still on display but he manages to infuse heart and explore different aspects of trauma that feel like a continuation of themes he began with Jessica Cruz.

The basic gist of the Dial H concept for those unfamiliar with this classic Silver Age title—think Ben 10 before Ben 10, only with a kid changing into superheroes instead of aliens. In keeping with the Wonder Comics pop-up imprint goal of focusing on younger characters in the DCU, we have Miguel Montez assuming the power of the H-Dial, but fans wistful for the original Dial H protagonist Robby Reed, he’s not far from the action. Much like what Geoff Johns accomplished with Green Lantern, the Dial H creative team dusts off an old DC property for a modern audience while also adding to the toy box.

Humphries continues to top himself each issue employing different narrative devices including a sujet structure akin to Memento in issue 8. I can’t overlook the phenomenal art of Joe Quinones, who adds a new layer to the transformation experience by changing his style to emulate that of different artists. Thus far we’ve seen superhero pastiches in the vein of Rob Liefeld, Mike Allred, Frank Miller, Akira Toriyama, and beyond!

With any luck, this isn’t the last we’ve seen of Dial H once the 12-issue limited series concludes.

If this anything similar to how Johns would write his books, maybe it should be the last. When I spot such comparisons to one of the overrated faux-writers who alienated me from mainstream superhero fare, I tend to get suspicious with reason. Besides, anybody who's going to fawn over Liefeld isn't helping. Nor is the following take on the feminist propaganda in Female Furies:

Female Furies is a remarkable series. The core of Female Furies is women recognizing and coming to terms with their abuse, then trying to figure out how to prevent it from happening to others. There is a complex, overt source of patriarchy that keeps women down. Whether it’s Apokolips, or on Earth, Cecil Castellucci and Adriana Melo ask how these oppressive structures can be, if at all, broken down.

Castellucci has created a very thoughtful portrait of abuse and oppression. Melo’s energetic lines imbue the series with a sense of weight, almost as if the characters are weighed down by the environment they’re in. It’s interesting to see how they manage to recontextualize the world of Jack Kirby’s New Gods and bring in a new, fresh look at the Fourth World and its lore. I was intrigued by the series, especially as it focuses on Granny Goodness (a character I personally detest) and how her story is influenced by the circumstances of her environment. I came out with a better perspective and understanding of Jack Kirby’s Fourth World. It’s a wonderful addition to the New Gods Pantheon that you should seek out.

Nuh-uh. I firmly prefer to check out the original tales by Kirby. We could do without this further abuse of his notable Bronze Age creations, and if the villainesses remain such by the end of the yarn, that's one more reason why this is a botch. (Isn't it funny then, the reviewer disapproves of Granny?) We could also do without the following, which may be built on similar embarrassments:

Goddess Mode deserves a dozen more issues, at least. Zoë Quinn‘s comics debut is a fast-paced, high-stakes, cyberpunk world starring a cast of characters so unique that they all but leap off the page. Paired with art by Robbi Rodriguez and colors by Rico Renzi, this fluorescent-drenched world is one for the ages.

I don't see the point in supporting a book by somebody who reportedly resorted to defamation of Canadian game programmer Alex Holowka, causing him to commit suicide, and was later discovered to have written messages that implied a far more decent relationship than previously thought. That case was so awful, it's reason enough to save your money, and not buy something that led to the closure of DC's Vertigo line. Now, here's more fawning over Jonathan Hickman's X-Men:

My thoughts about the X-Men’s recent resurgence are already sprinkled all over The Beat, but there is something so unique and wonderful about Jonathan Hickman’s, R.B. Silva’s, Pepe Larraz’s, Marte Gracia’s and Tom Muller’s combined work on House and Powers of X that it is worth praising the two mini-series whenever I get the chance. The two series have slightly different focuses: House primarily covers the formation of the new mutant nation-state Krakoa while Powers is a time-hopping narrative that explores mutant’s function and biological importance, but they have a unified goal: reaffirming the X-Men’s prominent position in the Marvel Universe.

The two series have a lot of action that puts the X-Men to the test, but House and Powers are at their most enjoyable when characters are simply discussing all of the changes taking place in the world. Instead of squabbling with one another or defending themselves from terrorist humans, mutants can now focus on preserving their nation and developing a rich, unique culture. Thanks to Hickman’s firm understanding of what makes the franchise so relatable and lovable, decades old concepts and new characters blend together seamlessly in a way that makes the whole X-Universe feel fresh and vital during this politically charged moment in time. His ability to give updated voices to classic characters- I’m looking at you creepy Xavier and fabulous Mr. Sinister- coupled with the artistic team’s expressive work and beautiful redesigns resulted in two X books that felt unlike anything that’s come before while being wholly reliant on the team’s long, complex history.

I'm still not sure why turning Moira into a mutant shows an understanding or is "relatable". There's another take by a second reviewer:

HOX/POX was as hyped as any “event comic” Marvel ever pushed, and somehow shattered expectations. A problem with Big 2 “events” is that in the midst of all the table-setting for the next year or so of superhero comics, it’s difficult to tell a satisfying story. On the surface, HOX/POX isn’t different; it doesn’t quite end so much as finalize countless status-quo shakeups for the “Dawn of X” family of X-titles that followed, including Jonathan Hickman’s own series, simply titled X-Men.

The thing is, HOX/POX delivers in ways longtime fans lamenting “event-fatigue” could’ve imagined. For one, House of X, drawn by Pepe Larraz, and Powers of X, drawn by R.B. Silva, are gorgeous, and they’re united by colorist Marte Gracia and letterer Clayton Cowles for a visual consistency rare in contemporary cape comics.

The best part, however, is how much the creators go for it. Hickman threw more ideas into the first issue than many writers would in a years-long run. The story zigs every time you expect it to zag, and nothing is left on the table.

The X-Men offering a super-antibiotic to all the nations of the world in exchange for recognizing their new home, Krakoa (the living island!) as a sovereign nation? That would’ve been more than enough to move the story forward, yet Hickman and company also throw in a mutant drug that extends human lifespans by five years, as well as one that cures “diseases of the mind.” Even for the most jaded superhero fans, HOX/POX proves that The Blue Area of the Moon is the limit.

Maybe it's not a whole crossover, but again, I just don't see why they have to gloss over Moira's transformation, as they do in the following take on the 2nd issue:

When House of X and Powers of X were first announced, I was interested, but not excited. “Here we go again,” I thought. Yet another X-Men renumbering and reboot where everything will be All-News and All-Different for what feels like the seventh or eighth time this decade. A friend bought House of X #1 for me because he was immediately hooked and wanted someone else along for the ride. After reading issue #1, I was hooked as well. But it was issue #2 that blew my mind. Jonathan Hickman and Peppe Larraz reimagine and reinvent Moira MacTaggert from background character into one of the most compelling and interesting X-people in history. After reading House of X #2, I immediately reread it, and have read it again many times since. This issue was my favorite comic of 2019 and made me the most excited I have been about the X-books since I was a teenager.

So because she was a co-star with no superpowers, she wasn't interesting before? That's like saying Mary Jane Watson's not interesting because she doesn't have superpowers either. Or any of DC's leading lady co-stars. There's also briefs about "Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me" that reveal more:

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me is hands down the best graphic novel released in 2019, and easily one of the top 10 graphic novels released in the last decade. This sharp, poignant story is so beautifully executed by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell that it is, at times, literally breathtaking. Tackling tough topics and the necessity of abandoning toxic relationships through stunning dialogue and art, this book is truly a must-read.

And:

All clean lines, rose-hued highlights, and coming-of-age queerness, Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me brings a take on toxic relationships that is familiar to almost every reader. The book is, firstly, completely stunning. There’s no denying the stylized talent that is Valero-O’Connell. While so many high-school-focused slice of life graphic novels tend to be about a couple meeting, falling for one another, and the happiness that plays out from that; this novel instead discusses the harmful relationships that many people find themselves in during that period of their lives. Tamaki has a way with words that’s almost poetic as she unravels the many dimensions of the young, queer characters of the story.

So, does the story attack "toxic masculinity"? Could be. No respect for heterosexuality is apparently the ways of these buffoons. Here's another, similar book called Meat and Bone:

Meat and Bone is a queer “slice of life” story about eating, dating and figuring out what they want to do with their life. It’s the story of people drifting, knowing what they want, but not quite capable of achieving it. Each trying in their own way to get to where they want to be, some succeed and some don’t. This book is a remarkable achievement. Verhoeven started writing Meat and Bone as a webcomic back in 2012 and it lasted for six years until this complete edition was released by Conundrum Press in May 2019.

I was struck with how effortless this book was to read. Verhoeven weaves a coherent, engaging narrative while shifting within a large ensemble of characters, and manages to give appropriate time to develop each of them. There is an unwavering narrative vision in Meat and Bone, but also, there is love and care in this book. Meat and Bone is a book about finding happiness and rejecting the idea of being the “ideal” or “perfect” version of yourself. This book asks its protagonist to move the goal posts to get to a place where they can find joy. It’s sometimes the only way to go to find a way to be content.

Shouldn't be too difficult to figure out what kind of "happiness" they mean, which is shunning the opposite sex. Not a good example at all. Then, there's a product called The Nib:

With short comics perfect for reading on your phone, you could read five strips from five different cartoonists in the time it takes to read this blurb. Despite the emphasis on brevity — and largely because of it — The Nib is perhaps the single most reliable source for sharp political in these uncertain times.

The Nib boasts some of this generation’s best (and most frequently memed) cartoonists, including editor Matt Bors, associate editor Matt Lubchansky, as well as other contributors like Ben Passmore and Jen Sorenson. While the talent pool represents an inclusive range of genders, sexualities, ethnicities, religions, and other demographics, the entire outlet is unapologetically progressive. There’s no “both sides” BS or milquetoast appeals to centrists, and you certainly won’t like it if you voted for Trump.

But for those of us furious and worried about this critical point in history, The Nib provides much-needed vitriol towards the status quo, as well as humor. It’s not all laughs, though. One of The Nib’s most memorable contributions this year was a sobering look at a gay, Jewish member of the anti-Nazi resistance during the Holocaust by Dorian Alexander and Levi Hastings.

I don’t necessarily agree with the idea that there’s a direct correlation between the darkness of a historical moment and the greatness of the art produced in that time. But if we’re still here 50 years from now, I’m confident The Nib’s cartoons will still be studied and celebrated.

So this is all a bizarre LGBT propaganda vehicle, angled to appeal to anti-Trumpers, and it spoils the ability to appreciate a Holocaust story featured. Of course, what if we find out even that's been tooled to include analogies for modern conservatives, all the while ignoring that "nazi" was acroym for "national socialists"? There's also this fishy take on "Nobody’s Fool: The Life and Times of Schlitzie the Pinhead":

Griffith has made use of Schlitzie as the inspiration for his successful Zippy the Pinhead character, so it’s only fitting that he should pay tribute to the real man through this intricate and heartfelt biography. Tracing Schlitzie’s life from childhood through sideshows, Hollywood, psychiatric hospital, and low-key later existence, Griffith untangles as best he can the levels of untruth that the sideshow world specialized in and gets to the not only the heart of the person behind the claims but even the higher meaning of that person’s experience. Focusing on the way America treats outsiders in general and the mentally ill in particular, Griffith’s book is a pointed indictment of that system while still joyously celebrating the strange adventure of a life lived by one of its victims.

In what way could this book regard the mentally ill? If it doesn't think the obsession with transsexuality is a symptom of mental illness, I don't see the point. And if it's apologia for illegal immigration, that's also appalling. Next, however, is one of the few items on the list I see as worthwhile, because it's by somebody who worked with Chuck Dixon:

The Passover Haggadah is one of the most diverse pieces of liturgy to be found anywhere in the world. It’s been published countless times over the millennia, reflecting the times in which each individual haggadah is produced. But never in the history of the Jewish people has there been a haggadah quite like this one. The Passover Haggadah Graphic Novel is as straightforward as its title: literally, the words of the tradition rendered in comics form. But its execution is anything but ancient. In these pages, Jordan B. Gorfinkel (aka GORF) and Erez Zadok make the words come alive with engaging text and astonishing art. The Exodus narrative is not only made fresh through Gorf’s and Zadok’s imaginative take on the story, but also in the manner of how they integrate modernity to something so revered and treasured. It truly is a blessed experience holding this book in your hands. — AJ Frost*

[*NOTE: When this book was in its crowdfunding phase, I contributed to the campaign. My likeness is also found in the book.]

Pretty amazing they'd approve of an item like this, considering this is a site that's served as a drainpipe for propaganda hurtful to Israel like the aforementioned Glidden garbage. And I'll give the writer credit for contributing to the crowdfunding. On the other hand, there's also a GN called A Shining Beacon:

This timely political satire opens up a fictional authoritarian country that hearkens back to the Soviet Union just enough to give readers some distance, but pushes enough of the right buttons to firmly draw connections with situations worldwide and at home. Unassuming rural painter Francesca Saxon is called to the capital city to paint a mural for an opulent swimming pool because of the inoffensive quality of her art and the government’s feeling that they can bully her into some tepid state-approved jingoism. But Francesca finds that even the most innocuous ideas are subject to official censorship. The longer she stays in the capital, the deeper she becomes embroiled with questionable acquaintances and entangled in the labyrinthine efforts of the government to push patriotism in the form of symbolic prosperity that is meant to obscure the disappearance of actual prosperity. Albon’s satire is biting and his art absolutely beautiful.

Very fishy. If this is an attempt to make real patriots out to look bad, I'm not impressed. There's also a gross-sounding item called Snotgirl that's troubling, though not necessarily because of the title:

Bryan Lee O’Malley has always had a knack for capturing the heart and humor of young adult life, often with a touch of magical realism. Snotgirl boasts qualities that’ll be familiar to fans of Scott Pilgrim and Seconds — humor, romance, a self-obsessed protagonist — but it’s radically different.

Much of this is thanks to artist Leslie Hung, whose emotive characters and fashion savvy is perfect for capturing vain influencer Lottie Person’s glamorous, yet insidious world of fashion shoots and “haters brunch.” With the help of colorist Rachael Cohen (taking over from the series’ original color artist, Mickey Quinn) and letterer Mare Odomo, Lottie’s typically bright, candy-coated vision of L.A. allows in enough darkness to fit the story’s scathing satire.

More than one person has told me they haven’t tried Snotgirl because the name alone turns them off. That’s a shame, because while Lottie’s shame about her allergies is central to the plot, the secret to Snotgirl is how much more disgusted readers should be by everything else surrounding her life. Lottie’s preoccupation with looking good and advancing her modeling career blinds her to how selfish, petty, and materialistic she is, not to mention a possible criminal. Boogers should be the least of Lottie’s — and readers’ — concerns.

Indeed! If this is supposed to make models look bad, that's the real worry here. It could be this is modern leftist feminist propaganda. So the title is the least of the problems.

Labels: dc comics, indie publishers, marvel comics, msm propaganda