GRAPHIC-NOVEL COLUMN: Latest Volume of Palookaville is Classic Seth
By Dan Brown Palookaville 25 is classic Seth. The newest book from the father of Canada’s autobiographical comics school has three parts. It opens with the latest instalment in Nothing Lasts, based on Seth’s coming of age in Southwestern Ontario, then eventual move to Toronto. Next is a section about a sculpture Seth fashioned that sits by a bus stop just outside the Art Gallery of Guelph. It ends with Owen Moore, a fictional account of Dominion’s most celebrated painter, which originally appeared in serial form in the Walrus. You may know by now how Dominion is sort of like Seth’s version of the Marvel Universe. It’s a Canadian city of the 1950s that never existed, yet which we can all recall fondly. It’s the playground for the comic creator's imagination and nostalgic impulses. You might think, because the bookends of this volume are one true story and one fictional tale, that they have little in common. Fact is, they are both equally constructed. Nothing Lasts kicks off with an affair Seth had with an older woman at a Tilbury restaurant where he worked in his teen summers. It then transitions into a reflection on how he felt when he first moved to Toronto in 1980. The mostly small, cramped panels narrating his doomed puppy love give way to larger, more open frames that reflect the vibe of the big city. And funny thing, when Seth relocates to the Big Smoke he stops obsessing about his summer romance, if you can call it that, as he falls for Canada’s biggest city. What I especially appreciate about this chapter of his life story is the manifold footnotes he includes at the bottom of each page. They remind me of the explanatory material Marvel was notorious for packing into its comics in the 1970s to keep readers informed of connections they may have missed between other characters and plots. He also points out that the act of putting his memories on the page is fraught with complications. “I remember nothing,” he mentions at a crucial point in his narrative. He questions his own recollections at another point by saying, “It’s a muddle.” He contradicts himself, expands and explains his memories, revises them, then invites the reader to stop reading if they don't like his fragmented style. “Here, in this comic memoir, I can ramble as much as I want. Digress to my heart’s content,” he concludes. “And if you don’t like it, well, don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” In Owen Moore, which is made up of 10 one-page chapters, Seth creates an equally detailed history – of a person who never existed. Moore, we learn, painted Dominion street scenes. He had little success when he was alive, and by the time he had been discovered he was too far gone in his mental decline to provide answers for eager interviewers. Seth informs readers that Moore grew up in Corktown, a satellite community that was eventually swallowed up as Dominion grew. The character became an artist after experiencing a “vision of cosmic mundane perfection” while sick as a child in 1909. He grew up to be a Sunday painter who worked as a streetcar ticket taker during the week and was devoted to his indifferent mother. “He never married,” the narrative voice tells us, “That is, if his diaries are to be trusted.” None of this is real or true, of course. Just the result of Seth’s pure imaginings. Seth sets up Owen Moore as Dominion’s most famous artist, but the truth is much more complicated than that because it’s Seth himself, and not any of the characters he’s created, who is the most famous artist to come from Dominion. Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly Graphic-Novel Group.
Monster of the Abyss artist Eric Olcsvary visits with GNG
By Dan Brown SPOILER WARNING: This column contains plot details. If you value surprise, stop reading now. You’ve been warned! The L.A. Mood Graphic-Novel Group met Saturday, April 11, and had a special guest, Tillsonburg artist Eric Olcsvary. This is a brief outline of our discussion with him during our hour-long meeting. The book: The first two issues of Monster of the Abyss, written by Scott Wojcik, and illustrated by Olcsvary. The discussion: Eric gave us a look into his creative process, his background, and his partnership with Wojcik, who is also a local creator. Olcsvary says Wojcik is an idea machine! Wojcik’s kids Ashton and Hayden helped the writer come up with the story for Monster of the Abyss. This comic series follows the adventures of Sleepy Joe, who is a “magical and unique” stuffy brought home from a store in the “Eatons Mall.” Over the two issues he undergoes a drastic transformation, and Olcsvary said Joe being able to think but not talk (his mouth is stitched shut) is a key part of the character’s personality. Oh, and although many readers have asked the creative team about this, Sleepy Joe is not a reference to former U.S. president Joe Biden! By issue No. 2, Sleepy Joe has become Creepy Joe after being pulled into the underworld and having his persona changed. L.A. Mood co-owner and GNG member Gord Mood said the entity that forcibly transforms Joe, the Gloom King, is a Nietzschean kind of being. “Even the strong-willed can be broken, their resolve crushed,” it tells the toy. “Friendship is a lie, when darkness rises they’ll leave you to rot. You’re better off embracing your true nature. You are a creature of fear, destined for darkness.” If you haven’t guessed by now, Monster of the Abyss is a horror story. Olcsvary explained to the group’s members that although he is a metalhead when it comes to music, he is not a big horror guy – he just keeps getting offers to draw horror books! The part of the book where Joe is in the black pit also prompted a digression among the group about brainwashing. To what extent can a person (or even a fabric toy) be induced to do things that are outside their normal moral sphere? We had wide-ranging opinions. Another point we spent a decent chunk of time talking about is the colouring of the book. The first printing of Monster of the Abyss No. 1 was in black and white, which was followed by a colour version with colours by Payton Atkinson. We agreed as a group that we enjoyed the coloured version more. Olcsvary has described his own lines as a “bouncy, ink-heavy art style full of movement and unique composition.” He told us on Saturday that inking is his favourite part of the comic-making process! You can find Monster of the Abyss on the rack reserved for work by local comic creators. L.A. Mood’s Graphic-Novel Group meets the second Saturday of every month. Next month’s selection is Mouse Guard: Dawn of the Black Axe by David Petersen and Gabriel Rodriguez. Be warned, I am a HUGE Mouse Guard fan! We’re set to meet May 9 at the gaming tables in the store at 11 a.m. All are welcome to join the discussion! Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly Graphic-Novel Group.
Goon References Please GNG
By Dan Brown SPOILER WARNING: This column contains plot details about Eric Powell’s Goon, so if you value surprise, do not continue reading. Stop now! The L.A. Mood Graphic-Novel Group convened on Saturday, March 14. Here’s a brief account of our discussion. The book: The Goon: Bunch of Old Crap Volume 1, which collects the character’s earliest stories. The discussion: Most of us appreciated the Goon, even if it wasn’t really our thing. Me, I loved it. I knew little about the Goon before this. I had a vague awareness of the long-running comic, and its supernatural flavour, but I had not actually read any of the his adventures. What can I say? Powell’s heedless spirit, which imbues the book with a unique energy, bowled me over. The collection was pitched by GNG member and L.A. Mood employee Matt. Much of our discussion centred around the book’s many references to the original source material that fired Powell’s imagination. For those who are new to the antihero, the Goon’s first issue came out in 1999. I found it to be a blend of ingredients that I have not seen in any other comics. One of Powell’s biggest inspirations is clearly Mad Magazine. You can feel the fun, anything-goes, slightly gross vibe in every panel. The protagonist – who looks like a giant boxer of old – is a former circus worker who becomes an enforcer for a mob boss. The twist, which comes fairly early in the chronology of the series, is the mob boss doesn’t exist – the Goon is himself the brains of the operation. He is accompanied by his homicidal sidekick Franky, who has eyes that lack pupils. Shades of Little Orphan Annie. It takes place on Lonely Street in a burg that is reminiscent of Central City, home to Will Eisner’s Spirit. The bane of the Goon’s existence are the zombies that keep popping up, only to be dispatched by his fist or a blast from a revolver. There are many other monsters rampaging about, like the sea creatures that evoke H.P. Lovecraft. There’s even a gigantic lizard-type baddie created by Powell as a way to express his love for such rubber-monster movies as Godzilla. Powell was also clearly influenced by Jack Kirby. The Goon often appears in action-packed spreads that unfold over two pages. Another source is the films noir of the 1940s. Franky is always seen in the duo's bar hangout trying to romance one dame or another. Even better, it’s so much fun to watch Powell cycle through so many different styles of illustrating. He never stops evolving. And for fans of old-school comics like yours truly, the throwback sound effects are a delight: Klang! Slap! Krash! Pow! I was in my glory. There are several more omnibus volumes of the Goon to enjoy, and I intend to get all of them. L.A. Mood’s Graphic-Novel Group meets the second Saturday of each month. Next month’s selection is from London comic creators Scott Wojcik and Eric Olcsvary, we are reading issues 1 and 2 of their Monster of the Abyss series. The group is set to meet next on Saturday April 11 at 11 a.m. at store’s the gaming tables. If you're interested in comics or graphic novels, we’d love to have you join us! Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 32 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly graphic-novel group.
The Woodchipper is Evidence of Joe Ollmann’s Greatness
By Dan Brown At some point in the last few years, Joe Ollmann went from being a very good graphic novelist to a truly great one. His new book, The Woodchipper, is proof he has made that transition. Out now, the collection contains five graphic short stories – or whatever you want to call them. “Short-story collections can be a hard sell,” the Hamilton comic creator’s cartoon self explains in the book’s introduction. Maybe so, but Ollmann is making a strong case for the possibilities of the genre. Just as the late Alice Munro was a legendary writer of prose short stories, Ollmann has mastered the graphic equivalent. His stories are thought-provoking, funny, and sad. The common thread running through the five pieces here is how Ollmann concludes each with one of his patented “anti-twist endings,” in which almost nothing happens, yet the main character’s world is forever changed. My favourite of the lot is called Meat, and tells the story of Kara, a security guard at an animal-packing plant who befriends one of the protesters outside the company fence. “I’m Paul Blart with a moral conscience,” Kara says in her inner monologue, before being presented with an ethical dilemma. I won’t give away the rest of the story, but let’s just say Jeff Lemire’s Sweet Tooth is no longer the only tale from a Southwestern Ontario creator that features a half-human, half-pig hybrid. And that’s the thing about the stories in this collection: None of them suffers for being short. They all feel as complex as a “full” graphic novel. Ollman packs each one with so much character detail and meaning. Also not to be missed is Nestled All Snug, in which bookstore employee Sasha gets locked in a bathroom in the back of the shop over the Christmas holidays. The slowly building drama here isn’t so much dependent on whether she can escape or not, but on what she will do to survive. Can Sasha, her mouth dry from hours of captivity, break down and drink the toilet water in order to endure? You’ll have to read the story to find out what she decides. As for the title story, it’s a perfect example of Ollmann’s theory about creating reverse-surprise endings. I’ll spoil it by revealing no human appendage actually gets torn to pieces in the titular chipper, but nothing is the same at the end of the story as it was in the beginning. Maybe you’re not familiar with Ollmann’s work. Maybe you’re looking for a point of entry into his oeuvre, which also includes full-length graphic novels such as Fictional Father and The Abominable Mr. Seabrook and yet more short-story collections. The Woodchipper, full of compelling character moments that centre on “non-incidents,” is the perfect place to start. I doubt Ollmann needs ideas, but I hope he considers a straight-on autobiography next time out. The snippets of his life we get from the introductions to his books just aren’t enough anymore. How about it, Joe? Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly graphic-novel group.
Dawn of the Black Axe is Amazing
Dawn of the Black Axe is amazing By Dan Brown David Petersen’s Mouse Guard: Dawn of the Black Axe is a superlative series that will make for a must-read graphic novel come January. The three-issue title debuted and wrapped from March to June this year. The collected version lands on store shelves January 20. Do yourself a favour and pre-order your copy now. Although I initially felt trepidation that another comic creator – Gabriel Rodriguez – handled art duties, instead of Petersen, my skepticism soon melted away when I got a closer look at the individual issues, which are gorgeous. As Mouse Guard fans know, Petersen is the Michigan writer/artist who originated the idea of a medieval mouse society protected by the members of the Guard, forest rangers who serve to keep the far-flung mouse communities safe. Petersen’s art in the main title is amazing, which is what I’m used to. But Rodriguez’s lines are just as expressive, in their own way. There are fantasy/sorcery elements to the story – mostly in the form of a ghostly elk, who guides Bardick, the first-ever bearer of the black axe, in his quest to kill five giant snakes who are tightening their grip on mouse territory by raiding villages and breeding more young. The blade itself was fashioned by the blacksmith Farrer, whose own wife and children were slain by one of the serpents. “I’ll take all the pain forged in this weapon and protect mouse kind,” Bardick vows, perhaps not realizing he will be in the forest for many a season before he can rest. I was able to enjoy Rodriguez’s art on its own terms. He can do action just as well as he can render scenes in which the characters are static. He is also so good at evoking a sense of time – the reader sees Bardick grow weary as his adventures drag on over years. And that mysterious ghost elk is ethereal, except when he’s material, in one panel helping Bardick ford a stream. Each image rewards repeated attention, as the reader absorbs more detail and is drawn deeper into the Mouse Guard world. Nor is it a foregone conclusion that the slithering death threatening mouse communities will be vanquished. Bardick lives to see some of the mice thrive, but Petersen has a twist up his sleeve that will force readers to re-think what they thought they knew about the enemies of the mice, who have a “seething fury . . . boiling in their collective cold hearts.” What I know for sure about Mouse Guard is how Petersen is not interested in telling the same old stories. In a previous adventure, some mice rebelled against the mouse matriarch – but instead of taking the side of the rebels, a tale we’re all familiar with, he told it from the vantage of those trying to keep order. Another way of saying it is, Mouse Guard comics remind me of the spirit of the 2000 film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, as well as the Lord of the Rings books and the best Star Wars movies/TV shows. I’m already excited for 2026. Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly graphic-novel group.
More Patented Tom Gauld Science Humour
By Dan Brown I’m a fan of Tom Gauld’s work, so I was already inclined to like his latest collection, Physics for Cats: Science Cartoons, which was published in October. It’s as strong as such previous books as his Department of Mind-Blowing Theories, Baking with Kafka, and Mooncop. The cartoons collected in his latest publication originally appeared in New Scientist magazine. They continue his tradition of absurdist humour and once again, he covers the gamut from slapstick comedy to highbrow references (H.P. Lovecraft has been a recurring source of laughs for many years). If the idea of a fun-sized Hadron Collider you can take to the beach strikes you as funny, then Gauld is the cartoonist for you. The closest comparison I can come up with is Gary Larson, who used to do The Far Side. Gauld has the same sort of cock-eyed way of looking at the world. The toons here feature a cast of cat scientists, human scientists, cockroach scientists, alien scientists, medieval scientists, and talking dogs. You don’t have to be a scientist to appreciate them, in fact a number of them revolve around petty office politics – apparently the science community is no different from any other made up of human beings. In fact, Gauld hints that the only thing separating modern scientists from old-school witches is their lab coats. Do real scientists actually take the extra bones from museum exhibits and create super-scary monster skeletons out of them? I don’t know, but Gauld’s men and women of science do. Or imagine a job interview at the Institute for Lifespan Extension Research. Of course the applicant is asked, “Where do you see yourself in 500 years?” There’s a fair bit of play with panels here as Gauld tries to stretch his usual platform of a single rectangular box. One panel in Physics for Cats can be read upside-down, another front to back. Yet another panel is phasing out of existence. And in one cartoon, the framing looks something like a traditional Sunday newspaper strip. In one three-part cartoon, a scientist looks at a floating black disc. “I stared into the abyss,” she begins. “The abyss stared back.” The punchline comes in the third panel: “One thing led to another, and now I meet the abyss for regular chats in the coffee shop near my lab.” Gauld has clearly mastered the cartoon form by now. I would still love to see him experiment more with long-form narratives, as he did with 2016’s Mooncop. That said, if you have an egghead on your Christmas list, or even just someone who’s really well-read, you could do a lot worse than Physics for Cats. Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly graphic-novel group.
