Free Comic Book Day this year was pretty good for me, and not just for the reasons I've already discussed, but because of the way I justified loitering to see how others were enjoying it at my local haunt: namely, by shopping.
There's a whole bookshelf of titles not published by DC or Marvel, or classified as mature reader material (in this place, that stuff is kept in glass cases by the register), which I haven't really explored before as it's chaotically managed. I spent half the time I browsed it trying to help bring about some order (yeah, I'm that kind of shopper). It was cool, too, because spending that time helped me think up stuff I should be thinking about. There were a couple of people there who stumbled on Chris Burnham's E for Extinction mini-series from Secret Wars, and they mistakenly identified Burnham as Frank Quitely. I corrected them, but it's an easy mistake to make. I mean, Grant Morrison worked with Burnham because he evokes Quitely. Eventually, this made me remember Nameless, and the fact that I never read its final issue, which was released late last year. But more on that later. Here's the stuff I found:
Atomic Robo and the Ring of Fire #5 (IDW)
The conclusion of IDW's first Atomic Robo mini-series (the character was previously published by Red 5, who used to feature him in all its FCBD releases) features his gang of action scientists confronting the notion of science becoming too big for its britches, working for the greater good at the expense of good public relations. You know, the classic Bond Villain dilemma. I love that IDW allows the comic a letters page, in which I am constantly humbled by how much better other fans keep track of Atomic Robo's adventures.
Batman & Robin Eternal #26 (DC)
The conclusion of this half-year weekly was something I wanted to read despite not having read any issue of it since, ah, the first one. The late 2015 attempt at emphasizing the Robin legacy was a welcome one in my books, what with "Robin War" and this series that featured basically every Batman sidekick ever, including most of the ones from the New 52 (Duke Thomas is featured on the cover but absent from the interior, although he ended up playing a key role in Scott Snyder's final Batman arc). Harper Row/Bluebird seemed to be the biggest beneficiary of this story, even as she was easily, otherwise, Snyder's least-utilized creation except in the alternate Eternal adventures. Also featured are Stephanie Brown/Spoiler and Cassandra Cain, a much-loved one-time Batgirl who assumes the identity of the Orphan and thusly becoming the other big beneficiary of the series. Also in the spotlight: Dick Grayson, the first Robin, who also receives some nifty character work. It was nice seeing him, Jason, Tim, and Damian getting along, too, and the whole concept of what brings all of them together, the character of Mother, who provides an alternative to Batman, was a good one, too. So I can say this was a pretty worthwhile affair.
Empress #2 (Icon)
Mark Millar and Stuart Immonen's space opera of a distant past (kind of like Star Wars, or the reimagining of Battlestar Galactica) ramps up. It's hard not to find comparisons with Saga, but I can't help gush over Immonen's return to his more simplistic, evocative style, which for me is the obvious, easy draw of the series.
Huck #6 (Image)
The conclusion of Millar and Rafael Albuquerque's Superman analogy (akin to Tom de Haven's It's Superman! novel featuring a simple-minded Midwesterner) has his mother save the day, but Huck proving to be the kind of hero everyone wants Superman to be in the movies. (Although, folks, we did see that Superman, as portrayed by Christopher Reeve. Four times.)
Klaus #2, 3, 4 (Boom!)
I bugged the owner of the shop I was frequenting in Maine about this title, pronouncing it like "mouse" instead of "claws," Grant Morrison's Santa origin, but kind of drifted away from it after the break I took from being a full-time reader. (And by the way, I'm still on that break, and things may grow sparse here to reflect that, in the coming months.) Yet coming across the second, third, and fourth issues (the covers reflect that the mini-series expanded from six to seven issues somewhere along the line) had me back in the mood. This is very much a fairy tale, or even a superhero kind of story. You can be a fan of Frozen and find much to love about it. Morrison has written few romances, but this is one of them. More and more, I like it a lot.
Nameless #6 (Image)
Morrison's reunion with Burnham (after Batman Incorporated) baffled me as a kind of regression on Morrison's part, horror kind of for the sake of horror. He's not normally so one-dimensional. But I guess that was kind of the point, tapping back into his black magic bag to present a portrait of true human depravity. This will never be one of my favorite Morrison works, but at least I understand it a little better now.
Star Trek/Green Lantern: The Spectrum War #6 (IDW)
The conclusion of this crossover proves once again that it was basically a love letter to the Geoff Johns era in the Green Lantern franchise, which is something I could totally embrace. It's also one of the more readable Star Trek comics I've read from IDW in recent years. After a spectacular start when it acquired the rights, IDW's efforts started to slide. This was set in the 2009 continuity, which worked well for the concept, including its use of Chang (Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country), who was unlikely to show up in this continuity otherwise.
Star Trek: Starfleet Academy #2 (IDW)
Taking a chance, I also snapped this up. Like a lot of IDW's Star Trek comics (including the above), it's written by Mike Johnson, but it's Johnson in excellent mode. While the parts largely borrowing directly from the 2009 film are fairly routine, the ones featuring new cadets are lively, showing what it's like to live in Star Trek, filled with insightful and amusing culture clash material. Honestly, I don't know why there hasn't been more stuff like this, whether from IDW, other comics publishers, or the ongoing series of Pocket Books novels. Also of note is artist Derek Charm, whose blog I have technically been following for years, and although I don't remember now how that started, it's nice to be able to say that I've now bought some of his work.
Tuki #4 (Cartoon)
This latest collection of material Jeff Smith previously serialized on the Internet features the main character and his quirky companions coming closer to facing their destiny: being the first humanoid to leave Africa. The weird ways the group interacts with one another, and Smith's vision of the world at that time continues to be fascinating. I was glad the shop had this. I'd caught another printed issue there, but didn't know if I'd ever see another. Well, now I know.
Showing posts with label Tuki. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tuki. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Monday, April 14, 2014
Digitally Speaking...#14 "Tuki Season One"
Tuki Season One (Cartoon)
This is Jeff Smith's third comics project, following his iconic Bone and the more recent RASL. Unlike his other works, Smith has decided to release Tuki directly on his website, in page-length installments, which basically means it's a web comic. He began publishing it last fall and wrapped up the "first season" (which amounts to twenty-six pages and therefore first issue by conventional standards) earlier this year. As a big fan, I've been keeping tabs on it, and I've enjoyed the results quite a bit. Among many other things, Tuki is a good mix between Smith's earlier efforts.
The story, if you must know, is about an African from 2,000,000 years ago who becomes the first person to leave the mother continent. It is an epic heroic journey (again, much like Bone and RASL before it), distilled to perhaps its most simplistic form, not simplistic as in childish or unsophisticated, but shorn of nearly all cultural trappings from, well, the last thousand if not million years. But of course there are callbacks all over the place. It's familiar and strikingly so to our own time. It takes a creative genius like Smith to make the distant past read like our own times, not because he's transposed our world to that time, but because he sees the vivid links that make the past come alive.
To Smith, the past doesn't mean that his star is merely a primitive man. I mean, he is, but that's not to say he's some stupid brute, which is what a lot of people might imagine. He's no caveman. His urges are our urges. Mostly, he's just looking for some grub. He's thirsty, and he's got these things called monkey oranges that keep popping up. And he looks hungrily after carrion feasts, or living beasts he can hunt.
It's fun, because the initial pages see our host, whom I assume is the eponymous Tuki, in wordless adventure. Smith's art ends up looking a lot like the work of Sergio Aragones, best known from Mad Magazine and Groo, the comic version of Conan. Much of RASL was communicated visually, almost impressionistically, with Rob's adventures across multiple realities something he observes grimly (it's basically a tragic love story), and of course there was a lot of visual emphasis in Bone, often to comic effect, but also to the fantasy and horror elements (and whatever the stupid, stupid rat creatures represent).
Tuki eventually comes across the classic wise old wizard character (think Obi-Wan Kenobi or Gandalf) who helps explain what exactly his heroic journey is going to be and why it's so significant. What's neat about this particular character is that he represents Smith's vision of this earlier world, when many stages of human development were present simultaneously. The wizard is more primitive than Tuki, but more in connection with the lore of the world (hence, a wizard), so in some ways he's more sophisticated. But it's Tuki who is the bold figure who defies everything, not so much because (to this point, by the end of the season) he's trying to, but because that's where his life is leading him.
The wizard mentions a few great tasks Tuki has already accomplished, but these are incidental comments. Big things normally just happen to Smith's characters, certainly in Bone, where the cartoonish cousins enter into a much wider world in the Valley after being banished from their homeland. Otherwise they would never have met Rose, or any of the other things they experience. (Rob, it must be acknowledged, deliberately seeks out his particular form of adventure, but can't know how far down the rabbit hole, as it were, that he ultimately travels.)
As always, Smith has weaved an intricate tapestry with its own mythology. Each time, even if they can seem like variations, his stories are entirely unique from each other. Tuki is no different. The more I read it, the more I love it. Again, typical for Smith. I hope he picks up the story again soon, but there's no rush. This is one creator who has absolutely earned the right to do it his way, and he's chosen to do so in a way that seems familiar but once again feels specifically his own. That's Jeff Smith's magic.
Just when you think the translation's gone and you won't hear from him again, he comes back. And, just perhaps, better than ever.
 |
| Via Boneville.com |
The story, if you must know, is about an African from 2,000,000 years ago who becomes the first person to leave the mother continent. It is an epic heroic journey (again, much like Bone and RASL before it), distilled to perhaps its most simplistic form, not simplistic as in childish or unsophisticated, but shorn of nearly all cultural trappings from, well, the last thousand if not million years. But of course there are callbacks all over the place. It's familiar and strikingly so to our own time. It takes a creative genius like Smith to make the distant past read like our own times, not because he's transposed our world to that time, but because he sees the vivid links that make the past come alive.
To Smith, the past doesn't mean that his star is merely a primitive man. I mean, he is, but that's not to say he's some stupid brute, which is what a lot of people might imagine. He's no caveman. His urges are our urges. Mostly, he's just looking for some grub. He's thirsty, and he's got these things called monkey oranges that keep popping up. And he looks hungrily after carrion feasts, or living beasts he can hunt.
It's fun, because the initial pages see our host, whom I assume is the eponymous Tuki, in wordless adventure. Smith's art ends up looking a lot like the work of Sergio Aragones, best known from Mad Magazine and Groo, the comic version of Conan. Much of RASL was communicated visually, almost impressionistically, with Rob's adventures across multiple realities something he observes grimly (it's basically a tragic love story), and of course there was a lot of visual emphasis in Bone, often to comic effect, but also to the fantasy and horror elements (and whatever the stupid, stupid rat creatures represent).
Tuki eventually comes across the classic wise old wizard character (think Obi-Wan Kenobi or Gandalf) who helps explain what exactly his heroic journey is going to be and why it's so significant. What's neat about this particular character is that he represents Smith's vision of this earlier world, when many stages of human development were present simultaneously. The wizard is more primitive than Tuki, but more in connection with the lore of the world (hence, a wizard), so in some ways he's more sophisticated. But it's Tuki who is the bold figure who defies everything, not so much because (to this point, by the end of the season) he's trying to, but because that's where his life is leading him.
The wizard mentions a few great tasks Tuki has already accomplished, but these are incidental comments. Big things normally just happen to Smith's characters, certainly in Bone, where the cartoonish cousins enter into a much wider world in the Valley after being banished from their homeland. Otherwise they would never have met Rose, or any of the other things they experience. (Rob, it must be acknowledged, deliberately seeks out his particular form of adventure, but can't know how far down the rabbit hole, as it were, that he ultimately travels.)
As always, Smith has weaved an intricate tapestry with its own mythology. Each time, even if they can seem like variations, his stories are entirely unique from each other. Tuki is no different. The more I read it, the more I love it. Again, typical for Smith. I hope he picks up the story again soon, but there's no rush. This is one creator who has absolutely earned the right to do it his way, and he's chosen to do so in a way that seems familiar but once again feels specifically his own. That's Jeff Smith's magic.
Just when you think the translation's gone and you won't hear from him again, he comes back. And, just perhaps, better than ever.
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