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The
Pull-Box:
ShotgunReviews.com's Ongoing Comics Column
08.18.03
by Troy Brownfield
Top
Shelf Stays Top Shelf
It seems
like I've been singing the praises of Top
Shelf for years. And I have. Chris Staros and Brett Warnock's
powerful little company puts on some consistently astonishing
material. Not only are their creators and their books madly
inventive, they almost all defy categorization. The stuff
is so diffuse in terms of style and content that the only
generalization one can make about Top Shelf is this: they
make damn good comics.
Three
cases in point are a new collection and two new original graphic
novels. They all come from an emotionally honest place, but
they reach the reader with dramatically different styles and
ideas. One constant is that they're each a quality piece of
work.
Shuck
Unmasked,
by Rick Smith and Tania Menesse, collects the first four issues
of the original Shuck
Comics and tosses in over fifty new pages for good measure.
I gave these issues great praise upon their initial release,
and I'm pleased to see that I wasn't alone. Luminaries like
Dave Sim and Jeff Smith (who provides a foreward) have also
weighed in, and the decision is that Shuck brims with
creative whimsy and a stirring core of gentle, unforced sentiment.
The two
distinguishing trademarks of Shuck remain the tremendous
achievement that is the dialogue and the almost innocent use
of paganism. The words are all rendered phonetically in dialect
with an ear toward giving the reader the feeling of comfortable,
backwoods homieness. It's all meticulously constructed, whereas
the lilting theme of nature spirits and demons juxtaposed
with the bucolic landscape captures an element of naturalistic
Americana.
I find
Shuck to be a genuine pleasure to read. It can take
a little work to get used to the unique rhythm of the words,
but the art is simple and concise and helps you get into the
flow. Every story is filled with a kind of wide-eyed mysticism
that incorporates various belief systems without casting about
judgment. It's sweet (in a good way), deeply intelligent and
richly imagined.
From the
mythology of Shuck to the mundane of everyday life,
then. Jeffery Brown's Unlikely uses its rough, spare
lines to depict an autobiographical tale of young love found
and lost. Rather than romanticize such a tale, Brown sticks
with details that alternate between bland and unseemingly,
sharply reflecting on the awkwardness, indecision, and general
wrong-headedness that often characterizes young relationships.
Perhaps
the most striking thing for me is that Jeff and Allisyn's
first conversation is shown to us entirely as "blahs".
We get the point. That first conversation is simultaneously
the most and least important connection. It sets up everything
that happens to you later, but the words are often irrelevent
to the chemo-electric charge you feel upon meeting someone
that you know is special.
Brown's
minimalism allows him to deftly realize some fine, subtle
moments. Issues of virginity and drug abuse work their way
in, but it all feels organic and natural. None of the ideas
are forced; you know because you've dealt with some of them
yourself. We sense and empathize with Jeff's confusion, and
we wince at the lazy broken spiral that things become at the
end. It's strong, deceptively simple work.
Though
simply drawn, Scott Morse's The Barefoot Serpent is
a stunningly complex idea. It bookends a tale of a family
damaged by suicide and taking a vacation to heal with the
story of legendary director Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa's story
is told in vibrant hues, while the central narrative goes
with tones of gray. Morse echoes the parallels in Kurosawa's
life with his main story by invoking little touches and tributes
that recall the master's films. It's provocative and thoughtful,
displaying a command of the medium that few possess and few
are willing to attempt.
The
Barefoot Serpent is
the type of graphic novel that's especially important because
it stretches the conception of a comic should be. Too few
creators seem willing to stretch the boundaries and complexities
that comics afford. When Morse works in the young artist on
the beach, it simultaneously recalls Kurosawa himself and
a scene from Dreams. However, the young artist also
makes an impact to the central narrative by his interaction
with the father.
The actual
main narrative thrust follows the little girl and the Yojimbo-like
Hawaiian lad that she meets. His initially gruff nature, eventually
capped by true kindness, sets off the girl's recognition that
she can actually move past her brother's death. It's deftly
handled and remarkably effective. The same can be said of
the entire work; it's a small gem, suffused with quiet beauty
and bold imagination.
Top Shelf
continues to impress with its growing roster of creators and
swelling ranks of critical praise. Their efforts are terrifically
packaged, wonderfully executed, and full of intellect and
charm. To learn more about the company and their work, be
sure to check out their recently revamped website.
There's a reason that they're named Top Shelf.
Contact Troy here.
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