Yen Press and Anne Rice are planning a single-volume graphic novel adaptation of Rice's 1976 novel Interview with the Vampire, due out in fall 2012. Rather to my surprise, I really like this first image (even though there's no chance I'll actually read the book—I'm not a Rice fan). I'm assuming that's supposed to be Claudia, and who better to embrace the whole Gothic Lolita vibe?
How did I miss this? There's a graphic novel adaptation of Jonathan Stroud's The Amulet of Samarkand, one of my favorite YA novels ever, and the cover art is (once again) terrible. Seriously, I'm not sure who has it out for this series, but I cannot believe what bad luck Stroud has had with cover art: these books consistently look low-budget, amateurish, and downright ugly, and this one, sadly, might be the worst yet.
Note: We didn't get a chance to post Friday's book, so expect two reviews today.
Contest Book #13
Scott Mills's delicately illustrated graphic novel Big Clay Pot is the story of Sun Kim, a preadolescent Korean orphan who ends up in a small fishing community in ancient Japan. Sun Kim's klutziness gets her kicked out of camp after camp, until she meets Kokoro, an elderly fisherman whose grouchy exterior conceals a generous heart. The child and the old man are unlikely friends, but their relationship proves life-altering for them both.
We found most of Big Clay Pot touching, although it contains elements—like Sun Kim's desire to marry Kokoro, or a late plot twist that hinges on her introduction to puberty—that would require considerable discussion if one wanted to share the story with a young reader. Still, most of the appeal of this story comes from its simple yet utterly distinctive illustrations, which infuse every scene with emotion. Not all of those emotions are positive, mind you (in fact, most of 'em range from "melancholy" to "totally depressing"), but they're a tribute to Mr. Mills's skill as an artist.
Odd Is On Our Side, by Dean Koontz and Fred Van Lente
Contest Book #4
Odd Is On Our Side is the second graphic novel to feature Odd Thomas, a twenty-year-old fry cook living in the fictional Californian town of Pico Mundo. Odd—a character first introduced in Dean Koontz's 2003 novel Odd Thomas—has a loving girlfriend, a gift for making pancakes, and the ability to see dead people. Unfortunately, seeing ghosts isn't quite as useful as hearing them, so when a ghost wants Odd's help (and they often do), they have to communicate via the supernatural equivalent of a game of charades.
In this installment (a prequel to the main series), Odd and his gun-toting girlfriend Stormy attempt to enjoy Pico Mundo's annual Halloween celebration despite Odd's increasingly grim forebodings about the festivities. Ghosts ranging from the specter of Elvis Presley to the spirit of a little girl killed in Pico Mundo years earlier are trying to tell him something, but their warnings don't make sense—something is clearly wrong, but how can Odd and Stormy catch the bad guy if they don't even know what crime has been committed?
I have frequently thought that Koontz's stories make better graphic novels than they do standard books, a theory further verified by Odd is On Our Side. Koontz has a lively imagination and an appealingly dark sense of humor, but his writing style is no more than competent. One could wish that the book's interior artwork—by Australian manga artist Queenie Chan—was more interesting, and Nathan pointed out that the cover art looks like one of those dancing-silhouette iPod commercials (it totally does, too!), but Koontz's many fans can rest assured that the $10.99 they'll need to shell out for Odd Is On Our Side are entertainment dollars well spent.
I've never grasped the appeal, but fans of Disney's Tron franchise might want to pick up a copy of Tron: Betrayal, the graphic novel prequel to the upcoming Tron: Legacy movie. Apparently, the book bridges the gap between the original 1982 film and its sequel. Here's the official plot summary:
Sam Flynn is the rebellious 27-year-old son of Kevin Flynn, a computer programmer who disappeared when Sam was just a child. When Sam looks into his father’s disappearance, he finds himself pulled into the same world of brutal programs and gladiatorial games where his father has been living for almost 25 years. Along with Kevin’s loyal confidante, Quora, Kevin Flynn and his son Sam must embark on a life-and-death voyage across a visually-stunning cyber universe to put an end to the evil Clu and his reign of this digital world.
I'd bet you know everything you need to know just from reading that description, but if you've got ten bucks burning a hole in your pocket...
Eric Craddock's Stone Rabbit #5: Ninja Slice is a boisterous, colorful read aimed squarely at reluctant male readers ages 7-10. The plot (what little there is of it) is simple: when a new pizza shop opens in town, Grandpa Tortoise's Home-Style Pizza Restaurant can't compete. Stone Rabbit and his friends are determined to save Grandpa's business, but how can they win against an army of pizza-making ninjas?
The bright colors and cheerfully ridiculous fight scenes in Ninja Slice will appeal to small boys, while the triple threat of pizza, ninjas, and an irritable bunny protagonist who shouts "Crudmonkeys!" in moments of stress should speak to middle readers. Craddock's series doesn't pretend to be great literature, but it's a solid pick for little kids in need of a burst of quick silly fun.
If you're interested in Janet Evanovich's upcoming graphic novel Troublemaker (a continuation of her Alex Barnaby series), you should check out the—mildly NSFW!—Etsy Shop of Joëlle Jones, the illustrator for the book. I'm pretty stoked: unlike many author/artist combos (ahem, Marvel), this woman's stuff looks like it will be a great fit for Evanovich's writing style.
Babymouse: Dragonslayer, by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm
The Babymouse series, written by author Jennifer L. Holm and illustrated by her brother, freelance graphic artist Matthew Holm, are cute, silly, and unabashedly pink, making them an enjoyable alternative to the majority of superhero-centric graphic novels for young readers.
In Babymouse: Dragonslayer, Babymouse receives a well-deserved F-minus on a math test. She's been spending math class daydreaming about her beloved fantasy novels, imagining herself as the heroine of everything from The Lord of the Rings to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Exasperated, her teacher signs her up for the school's mathlete club, where Babymouse meets--much to her surprise--a group of new friends who actually like thinking about things like cosines and prime numbers.
If you substitute insane social climbing for Babymouse's overactive imagination, the plot of Babymouse: Dragonslayer has an awful lot in common with the last half-hour of the Lindsay Lohan movie Mean Girls. And unlike Mean Girls, Dragonslayer lacks a clearly defined moral--unusual in a children's book. (Babymouse spends a lot of time flaking on her fellow Mathletes, too, but that's okay: she manages to win the Math Olympics regardless.) Still, it's impossible to dislike a book that features this many Wordcandy-approved literary references plus a nearly-mystical "Golden Slide Rule" trophy, so we're calling this one another win for the Holm siblings' sunny-tempered series.
I have never read Patricia Briggs' Mercy Thompson books, but if Homecoming—the first entry in a projected series of graphic novel tie-ins to the series—is any indication of her storytelling ability, I've missing out. Homecoming is colorful, solidly illustrated, and its beleaguered heroine, shape-shifting car mechanic Mercy Thompson, is tremendously appealing.
While the future installments in this series look like they'll be direct adaptations of the novels, Homecoming is a standalone entry. As the story opens, Mercy has just arrived in the Tri-Cities area in Washington State. She's hoping to land a teaching position (ideally one far, far away from her nagging mother). There are a few barriers standing in her way, however: one, she blows up at the interview committee, and two, she's a shape-shifter who seems to have made enemies of the local vampires, werewolves, and fae—all without even trying!
Homecoming's biggest problem is its artwork. Francis Tsai and Amelia Woo's panels are gorgeously painted and nicely laid out, but the character designs periodically shift between two very different styles. It's always clear who the characters are meant to be, but the unexplained changes distract from the flow of the story. Still, this minor irritant doesn't seriously detract from the book's charm, most of which comes from its mouthy, stubborn heroine, whose remarkable ability to get herself out of trouble can barely keep up with her unfortunate tendency to stumble into it. I'm really looking forward to the next book, and have every intention of checking out the printed novels while I wait.
I do not enjoy tragic love stories. I rolled my eyes when Anna Karenina offed herself, I failed to sympathize with the plight of Newland Archer, and I spent most of The Great Gatsby wanting to kick both Gatsby and Daisy in the shins. It's not that I have no sympathy for real tragedy, but self-inflicted misery leaves me cold—which might be why I couldn't get into Marjane Satrapi's Chicken With Plums, no matter how beautiful the text or intimate the illustrations. (And they are both astoundingly beautiful and deliciously intimate—I am always astonished by how much nuance Satrapi can convey with deceptively simple words and images.)
Chicken With Plums is the story of Nasser Ali Khan, a celebrated musician and Satrapi's great-uncle. Living in late-1950s Tehran, Nasser Ali is unhappily married and disappointed in all but one of his children. When his wife breaks his beloved tar—an Iranian lute—over her knee during an argument and he is unable to find a replacement, Nasser Ali takes to his bed and decides to die. Over the eight days of his decline, Satrapi guides her readers through the primary events of his life (a grim childhood, a love affair gone awry, his mother's death), and shows glimpses of his children's futures.
In the press notes for Chicken With Plums, the story is described as being that of a man who "gave up his life for music and love". While that certainly sounds romantic, it doesn't quite match what I got from the book. Satrapi portrays her great-uncle as a bad spouse, a resentful brother, a biased father, and the kind of man so wrapped up in his own world that he would literally rather die than continue to live surrounded by imperfection. Nasser Ali's story is fascinating and his suicide-though-rapt-self-involvement rings depressingly true, but it is hardly the stuff dreams are made of.
Amy Poehler has signed on to star in a film adaptation of Jarrett Krosoczka's upcoming children's graphic novel series Lunch Lady:
I love me some Amy Poehler, and the combination of her + a series that describes itself as being about "a mild-mannered school cafeteria server who secretly dishes out helpings of justice as she and her assistant investigate wrongdoings" sounds like it is made of win.
Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein: Prodigal Son, by Chuck Dixon and Brett Booth
Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein: Prodigal Son is Chuck Dixon and Brett Booth’s comic book adaptation of the 2005 novel of the same name by Dean Koontz and Kevin J. Anderson, which is in turn a modern-day continuation of Mary Shelley’s classic horror story.
As the story opens, Deucalion, Frankenstein's original monster, is chilling out in a Tibetan monastery. He’s having a reasonably good time, getting some hardcore facial tattoos and—judging by his underwear-model abs—doing a lot of sit-ups, but his peaceful existence is rudely interrupted by the news that Victor Frankenstein, now known as "Helios," is alive and well in New Orleans, where he has been secretly creating hordes of genetically-engineered slaves. Victor controls his creations with an iron fist, but one has escaped and taken up serial killing as a hobby, thereby attracting the attention of Detective Carson O’Connor and her partner, Michael Maddison. When Deucalion arrives in New Orleans, hoping to expose his creator’s crimes, he turns to O’Connor and Maddison for help, but even their combined efforts might not be enough to stop Frankenstein’s plans from coming to fruition.
Prodigal Son might look to 19th century literature for inspiration, but Alan Moore’s cerebral, nuanced League of Extraordinary Gentlemen this isn't. Instead, it's a well-paced thriller with enough gross-out elements to appeal to horror fans and enough literary references to lend it a veneer of respectability. The biggest letdown about this adaptation is Booth’s competent but generic artwork, but if you adjust your expectations to “fun but forgettable” (and don’t eat anything immediately beforehand, particularly if you choose to read the bonus story at the end of the volume), this is a solidly entertaining effort.
It's difficult to maintain an genuinely dreamlike atmosphere over 90+ pages, but Australian graphic novelist Shaun Tan's Tales from Outer Suburbia manages it... or very nearly. One or two of his short stories about life in a Bizarro-world suburb slide dangerously close to "message" territory, but the lion's share of this collection comes across as authentically weird—a rare beast in a medium big on manufactured quirkiness.
The best stories in Tales of Outer Suburbia offer a magical realism take on ordinary suburban experiences, including sibling squabbles (“Our Expedition”), awkward but extremely polite foreign exchange students (“Eric”), and the difficult settling-in period experienced by new immigrants (“No Other Country”). Some of the more obscure stories (“Stick Figures”, “The Water Buffalo”) left me cold, but Tan’s gorgeous mixed-media artwork made even the weakest entries in the collection a pleasure to experience.
Tan won several well-deserved awards for his first graphic novel, the wordless 2007 bestseller The Arrival, and Tales from Outer Suburbia doesn’t disappoint. This stories in this collection might be uneven, but Tan’s delicate, haunting artwork and engaging storytelling make him a talent to watch.
There's going to be a graphic novel adaptation of the same material, tentatively titled Tantalize: Kieren's Story. I can't find much information about it, but Ms. Smith did mention it in a July interview with The Compulsive Reader:
"Interviewer: Do you plan on writing any more books similar to Tantalize?
Author: At the moment, I’m working on a very similar book—a graphic novel adaptation of Tantalize, told from the point of view of Kieren, the werewolf leading man. Because the prose novel is told from Quincie’s perspective, there are plenty of new scenes and insights in the graphic version."
I'm always worried about how the artwork will affect projects like this (because so often it's for the worse), but I'll be keeping an eye out for it.
The movie adaptation of Alan Moore's Hugo Award-winning graphic novel Watchmen is out:
Like most of Moore's stuff, I've always thought Watchmen was way too self-consciously weighty, so I'm glad to see the movie version isn't afraid to go for some old-fashioned, blowing-stuff-up fun!
NPR has an article up about American interest in foreign comics—everything from Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis to manga. The article is generic and under-researched, particularly by NPR's standards ("The trend began with Manga, illustrated comic serials from Japan, which feature big-eyed, heavily stylized characters."), but still worth checking out.
The beta version of Tokyopop's new website is out, offering some relief to those of us who found the old site eye twitch-inducing.
Shoujo mangaka Mayu Shinjo (creator of Viz's Sensual Phrase and the scanlation favorite Love Celeb) is going to write a one-shot for the October issue of Jump Square magazine—her first work for a shōnen magazine. It's a little tough for me to imagine Mayu Shinjo producing something outside of her smut-tastic comfort zone, but who knows? Maybe she'll be great.
In 2006, a French publisher released the first edition of Out of Picture, a graphic novel anthology of 11 short stories written and illustrated by a group of animators from Blue Sky Studios. The American publisher Villard released an expanded edition of the first volume of Out of Picture in 2007, and Out of Picture: Volume Two, which features additional contributing artists, has just come out in stores.
“Out of picture” is a film-making term used to refer to anything cut from a movie, and some of the most intriguing stories featured in the Out of Picture volumes feel like they might have come from larger, more fully-realized works. (I’d love to see more of the world featured in Greg Couch’s nursery rhyme/noir hybrid Four & Twenty Blackbirds.) Other contributors created the literary equivalent of 30-second short cartoons, including Jason Sadler’s existentialism-on-speed quickie Sub Plotter and Lizette Vega’s lively Crawdaddyo, both from volume two. The least successful stories tended to be the wordiest and most thematically ambitious, like Nash Dunningham’s Night School (volume one) or David Gordon’s The Rupture (volume two). Both of these stories looked great, but neither was strong enough to carry off its high-minded subject matter. The rest of the contributions were simply lovely, strange little vignettes, about as coherent as your average dream.
Both volumes of Out of Picture are visually dazzling, and—at about twenty-five dollars per volume—a remarkable value. Sticklers for precisely-structured storytelling might want to look elsewhere, but these gorgeously illustrated anthologies are sure to be appreciated by any fan of modern animation.
The Invention of Hugo Cabret gets even more visual
According to this, Brian Selznick's graphic novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret is going to be made into a movie:
"The adaptation is being ushered into production by GK Films, whose last project was The Departed. They've recruited in-demand screenwriter John Logan (Gladiator, The Aviator, Sweeney Todd) to write the screenplay. And the film will be directed by Chris Wedge (Ice Age, Robots), trying to make an Andrew Adamson-like break into live-action, having mastered CGI animation. The plan is to start filming this fall, presumably with an eye toward getting the movie out by Christmas of next year." [Source]
I just realized I haven't seen a single one of the films mentioned in the above excerpt, so none of those references mean anything to me, but the author of the original post called it "'Hugo Cabret' Getting A-List Adaptation", so I'm assuming they're all big names, and therefore the final product is sure to be magnificent.
...okay, it might not be magnificent, but at least it's guaranteed to have a really, really big budget.
Yen Press and Anne Rice are planning a single-volume graphic novel adaptation of Rice's 1976 novel Interview with the Vampire, due out in fall 2012. Rather to my surprise, I really like this first image (even though there's no chance I'll actually read the book—I'm not a Rice fan). I'm assuming that's supposed to be Claudia, and who better to embrace the whole Gothic Lolita vibe?
