Personal Favourites: Akira & Dune

"After three days, fish and guests begin to stink" goes the curiously astute proverb. Being visited recently by some old friends evoked an unusual blend of emotions in me, one of which was that of otherworldly visitation. The world had turned since I last saw them and things had moved on. That earlier memory-existence superimposed itself onto the present while they’re there and vice versa, familiar faces appeared in unfamiliar settings, things have changed yet nothing has changed. The visitation shifts things for a few days and the collision of worlds and times is both exciting and unsettling. On the other hand, maybe it’s nothing more than a piss-up with good buddies.

I’ve been seeing old worlds a fair bit recently, re-reading some old books and comics, old favourites that is. There’s something safe and cozy in the prior knowledge that the book is going to be good, that in fact it’s going to be very good, which feels like slowly relaxing into a nice, hot bath. Comic books lend themselves to re-reading more than literature I suppose due to ease of reading. Bound-up graphics novels and trade paperbacks are inviting rather than intimidating, but a six-hundred page novel you’ve already read can seem like a slightly pointless mountain to climb. However, this highlights one of the things that we might forget from time-to-time: are we reading to find out what happens? To reach a destination? Or are we reading because the act of reading itself is pleasurable?

I recently read my battered copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune for the fourth or fifth time (I lose count) and each time I wander out onto the Funeral Plain I am reminded of just how much I enjoy reading this book and wonder why it has been so long since I last felt the Arrakis sand in-between my toes. The internal intrigues, strange technologies and stilted language create a world which I enjoy visiting and each time I flesh out their characters with increasing detail and familiarity. Another world I paid a repeat visit to was that of Katsuhiro Otomo’s post-apocalyptic Tokyo from his manga epic Akira, soaking up the cinematic spectacle and grandeur inked into every panel – the volumes of which are markedly less veteran-looking than my copy of Dune, because comics need taking care of after all. On the second read of a comic there’s a comfortable freedom of pace: I can whizz through it at breakneck pace, taking it in as an intravenous hit to a major artery, or I can take my time poring over it and savouring it. With books I can’t speed read like some can, I have to take a steady pace slow enough not to miss anything but fast enough not to lose momentum.

But do all stories warrant a second go? And if they don’t what does this say about them? With both of those examples I find it hard to pick a preference between the world-setting and the characters themselves. I wouldn’t go so far as to say those are both necessary to warrant a return, and while having both certainly helps I would suggest that the characters are the more important facet. I’m pretty sure great plot on its own with shallow characters just won’t warrant it for me, and that without good characters to sink my teeth into – be it in film, comics, or books – I probably just won’t care and invest enough to come back. So perhaps it’s the same for our stories as it is in life: it’s not about the where and the when and the how, but it’s the people and the characters that keep you coming back, the old friends. Perhaps.

Shenzhen: A Travelogue from China & Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea – Guy Delisle

In contrast to fly-on-the-wall documentaries, Delisle is ever-present in these books as in many ways they are as much as about him as they are the places he is staying. He’s working in the Far East for animation studios outsourcing their work, and the frustrations of dealing with language barriers, intepreters and foreign customs heavily pepper the narrative, as does the loneliness and boredom of being away from home in hotel rooms for long periods.

The two books differ in that Shenzhen is a more personal affair, focusing on his dealings with everyday people, his experiences as a foreigner in a strange land and the general insanity that the loneliness of such a position brings. Hardly anyone speaks English and he will sometimes go whole days without saying a word. Pyongyang on the other hand rarely sees him without an interpreter-chaperone and as a book has much more commentary on the bizarreness of the political landscape and the all-pervasive propaganda that shrouds the society. While Delisle clearly has preconceptions about North Korea – he brings Orwell’s 1984 with him in a fit of rebellion – he still manages to avoid a heavy-handed agenda, holding back from the scything critique about the realities of life for average citizens that I was expecting. Rather than painting things in a bad and uncompromising light, he paints them in a strange, quaint, bizarre and weirdly charming light, and each story still contains those beautiful, special, quiet moments that you get when travelling. Delisle himself has commented that these are by no means journalistic in nature as he feels there is too much of his own opinion in them.

One of the subtleties of the artwork in these is that Delisle caricatures himself in a simpler way than the rest of the cast, often drawing only his eyes as dots, omitting his mouth and also bestowing himself a uniquely angular nose. If we were to believe Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics, this draws us in to his persona and helps us easily identify with it while his more detailed Korean and Chinese counterparts heighten the already existing culture divide, making them appear more foreign, alien and harder to relate to. The overall feel of the artwork in the book is one of informality, it’s all shaded by hand and there’s not a ruled line in sight as far as I can tell, not even among the panel edges, and this is very fitting with the non-journalistic, personal approach. The unintimidating nature – of both the art and the comic form itself – is very approachable and accessible, the uncluttered panels, simple layouts and comic timing all serve to draw you in without effort, with the end effect being more powerful than you expect.

Would I have preferred a more direct, incisive, balanced, investigative and journalistic approach to the subject matter? Not really as I don’t think I could have stomached it in this instance, Delisle’s sense of humour and eye for the personal brings a lot of much needed humanity to the table. Would it have worked if it wasn’t a comic? Undoubtedly, but I’m not sure I would’ve read it, something about Delisle simple and clear artwork brings these worlds to life in such a charming way. It’s hard to know what to say about them really as they’re so understated and disarmingly honest, all I can think of is that I will not hesitate to pick up his next book, Burma Chronicles, when it comes out.

Watchmen – Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons

With the impending release of the Watchmen film, I thought I should snag myself a copy of this before the cover got plastered irrevocably with “Now a major motion picture!!” Having read it before when I was young I was already familiar with the basic premise and the main characters, but Watchmen turned out to be well worth the return visit.

I never really took note of this first time around, but the heavy saturation of parallelism that occurs in this book is really striking. Frequently the scenes will dovetail into one another, the last words of the previous matching the imagery in the next, joined in the same panel. Through the course of the book we voyeuristically read several issues of The Black Freighter, the story of a man’s fall from grace into near insanity, over someone’s shoulder. The words and images of this are often split apart and intertwined with the main story to great effect, the grotesque fantasy-comic scenes often narrating the subtext of a seemingly civilised scene, or more directly echoing street violence and bloodshed. This gives the story tightly-woven, intricately crafted feel and is performed with such confidence that, as a reader, you feel you are in very safe hands.

The heroes and villains that Moore creates for this series appear to be gaudy parodies thrown together out of necessity, most of them borrowing heavily from already existing characters. I wondered if they were the subject matter simply because that was what was expected: comics were about heroes and villains. For the most part Moore steers clear of giving them any actual powers and Jonathan Osterman is really the only character who actually displays anything resembling superhuman abilities, though Adrian Veidt’s ‘most intelligent man in the world’ comes in a close second.  The trouble with these bold archetypes is that while they may be the way in for comics fans, vigilantes in tights are also a frequent barrier to entry for those who don’t regularly read comics, even though the work itself may be so much more than that. I can say that any future lending of this book on my part will likely come with a couple of qualifiers regarding them, just in case.

However, though at first glance the heroes may seem like throw-away, kitschy place-holders, their true nature is slowly teased out as Moore makes us wonder who really is a hero and who is a villain? And why is this place such a mess that’s going from bad to worse? The lurid, spandex-clad protagonists are not there by simply by default at all; the whole book is commentary on their flawed humanity, the warping effect that power and public renown has had on them and what happens when it’s taken away. At the same time it seems to be affectionately mocking the superhero genre of before and comes complete with names, gadgets and outfits that even the heroes themselves find ridiculous. Both their motives and methods come into question: Rorschach’s uncompromising and psychopathic approach to justice (a standout character for me); Dr Manhattan’s omnipotent indifference to humanity; Silk Spectre’s simple need to be loved; and The Comedian’s bitter and disillusioned abuse of power. It’s so engrossing to see these heroic self-contradictions being examined that the Watchmen deserves its status as a classic, and it’s ultimately what the book says about humanity and our inability to escape it that really resonates. If you get the chance, do try and read it before the film comes out and inevitably makes a complete hash of it.