Arc Poetry Magazine’s 40th-Anniversary Launch

If you're around Ottawa, come check out Arc Poetry Magazine’s stellar line-up for our 40th-Anniversary Launch on October 30 at the Ottawa International Writers Festival. That's 40 years of fine CanLit publishing in Ottawa, folks, getting the best poetry and nonfiction and art out into not only Canada, but the world. We are writers; hear us scribble.

And the 40th-anniversary is a free event, to boot. 
Featured readers include Carolyn Smart and Robert Hogg.

Click here for more info.

Cover image from summer 2018 issue.
Gavin Lynch, Bush Fire [Edelweiss]. 

Greg Rucka's and Nicola Scott's Black Magick

One of Nicola Scott's rare panels that employs colouring, which appears only when the
characters perform witchcraft or magick is present.

Comic-book writer Greg Rucka's and artist Nicola Scott's Black Magick series deserves a mention again because it's head and shoulders beyond the depiction of magic, particularly Wicca, in other comics of the medium. Add to that Scott's drop-dead gorgeous art and Rucka's compelling script with flawed, complex, as well as strong, heroine Rowan Black, and this comic book is an example of just how good comic books can be.

The classically rendered faces of the characters and the high attention to the details of Wicca are superb. There's the element of film noir with private detective Rowan Black, combined with witchcraft and an ages-old witch hunt. The story is set in Portsmouth, a fictional U.S. city, where Rucka draws on a well of fictional local history, adding a layer of mythology that might not be possible setting Black Magick a in U.S. city that might be too relatively young to achieve the sense of history he is aiming for. The book has a great ominous vibe, a complex character in the underachieving witch (but very competent cop) Black, and her complex relationship with her hunky co-worker.

Two trade paperbacks in and I'm a recent convert. Highly recommended.

(Disclaimer: This book will ruin you for reading about Wicca in most other comics.)

October Scary and Fun Book and Comic-Book Reading: Scarlett Hart, Graveyard Shift, The Immortal Hulk, Semiautomagic, Border Town, The Thrilling Adventure Hour, Infidel

Get your October reading on with these spooky titles, ranging from YA books to comics. Here's what I'm digging into this month.

Scarlett Hart: Monster Hunter
Marcus Sedgwick and Thomas Taylor

I don’t know why this graphic novel or comic book hasn’t garnered more attention. The art’s gorgeous, with hints of Kevin O’Neill’s work from Alan Moore’s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (first two volumes). The steampunk feel, too, with gadgetry abounding, and a solid parade of monsters, are also parallels. Scarlett is an Agent-Carteresque character, or an impoverished Bruce Wayne. She has her own family butler, Napoleon, with whom Scarlett hunts beasties for much-needed cash to lift them out of poverty. They even live in an estate reminiscent of Wayne Manor and make their getaways in an antique car (in a sense, her own Batmobile). Taylor stunningly deftly employs simple panels to evoke the truest and most dramatic of moments and expressions.This is a YA comic-book trade, but a great and pithy read for adults, too.

Thomas Taylor's Scarlett Hart. 

Graveyard Shift (A Hauntings Novel) 
Chris Westwood

Also known as The Ministry of Pandemonium (U.K. edition, I believe) 

Ben Harvester’s gift for drawing serves him well as he helps souls find their way to the afterlife. But Ben also has much to contend with; he's a newcomer at a school, living with his single mother, and they are down on their luck in Hackney (Fun fact: Where I once resided! - Editor's Note). Kudos to Westwood for depicting a character with lymphoma and the complications and heartbreaks that it metes out. Westwood's style is also clean and compelling. With the help of the mysterious Mr. October, whom Ben meets in the titular graveyard, Ben encounters a variety of macabre entities. Not suitable for kids under nine, I’d venture. Some truly scary and gory instances inhabit this volume, inspired by a goodly dose of Stephen King, but also J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series and arguably Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere and even Michael Moorcock. A YA title.

Joe Bennett's rendition of The Immortal Hulk.

The Immortal Hulk 
Al Ewing and Joe Bennett and various other artists

It’s spooky and unnerving. The art, even when guested by others, is compelling and creepy and delightful. Each night, Bruce Banner transforms into the Hulk to exact revenge on wrongdoers. And if Bruce is dead, the Hulk rises from the grave or, more accurately, the slab in the mortuary. He’s more devious than even the Mr. Fixit incarnation back in the early 1990's, able to smell a lie and possessing a singular preternatural intelligence. This Hulk incarnation also finds great inspiration in the 1970’s  and 1980’s T.V. series of five-years' length. Even a young female Arizona Herald reporter, Jackie McGee (does the name ring a bell?) pursues the stories of sightings of the titular green monster. He should, by rights (and at the hand of Hawkeye shooting two arrows into him), be quite dead. In addition, Ewing is building an underlying mythos regarding gamma radiation, and a green door through which other entities have come into this world. It's a whiff of Lovecraft, but it's enough to add discomfiting texture to the story. Bruce Banner also sees the Hulk in the mirror. I could go on, but you get the idea. The Immortal Hulk  is one of the most interesting ideas coming out of Marvel Comics right now, aside from anything Chip Zdarsky or Mark Waid are doing.

Jerry Ordway's beautiful work in Semiautomagic.

Semiautomagic 
Jerry Ordway and Alex de Campi
(Re-reading - Ed.)

Still so good, this Dark Horse comic (in trade paperback now) features fallible warlock Alice Creed, an avatar for John Constantine. Alice is fighting demons and the general supernatural at a great cost to herself and others. It features simply beautiful art from Jerry Ordway and a razor-sharp and merciless script from notable comic-book scribe Alex de Campi. As always, de Campi is worth watching, whatever project she is writing.

























Border Town 
Eric M. Esquivel and artist Ramon Villalobos

This is the first book out of the gate of DC Comic’s relaunching Vertigo Comics line. Border Town's half-Irish, half-Mexican protagonist, Frank (Francisco) trounces a skinhead bully in issue one. Writer Eric M. Esquivel suggests timely provocative ideas, with nods to Grant Morrison. Artist Ramon Villalobos does gorgeous work, reminiscent of Frank Quitely. And, to top all that off, readers get to feast their eyes on monsters from Mexican folklore, possibly for the first time in this medium. Step aside, chupacabra, the Latin American beastie that purportedly preys on animals, particularly goats. Border Town serves up a slew of other monsters that we've never seen in comics. Take my money, Border Town. Any comic series opening with armed American shitkicker right-wingers declaring “Make America great again, mother-f*^#*@s!”, chasing runners in border-town, Devil’s Fork and suffering karmic justice deserves, it. 

Thank you, artist Ramon Villalobos, for this.

Phil Hester's work on The Thrilling Adventure Hour,
exhibiting its dry sense of humour.

The Thrilling Adventure Hour: A Spirited Romance
Ben Acker and Ben Blacker and illustrated by Phil Hester

Based on the successful podcast of the same name, Frank and Sadie Doyle, members of the upper crust, see ghosts, kick butt, and take names. Much witty patter and booze abound. Think The Thin Man series meets Ghostbusters. Thank you, Boom! Studios.

Infidel 

Pornsak Pichetshot and artists Aaron Campbell and José Villarrubia
Writer Pornsak Pichetshot and artists Aaron Campbell and José Villarrubia portray a young American-Muslim woman who is tormented by entities that feed off xenophobia in her multi-ethnic apartment. Racial tensions and smart writing abound, showing each character’s points of view, even as they fall under the malevolent influence of racism.  Extra points for portraying a struggle with faith on all sides. Image Comics delivers on this subversive and fresh horror tale of five parts.

Aaron Campbell's art is exquisitely detailed, showing a mastery of the classic human figure.
The characters' faces are stunningly true-to-life.

Driving again, but in darkness deep

I drove a co-worker home from work tonight, through blacked-out parts of Ottawa. Originally, the plan was to drop her at Bilings Bridge Plaze, but during our evening shift, she discovered the bus that she would normally take from Bilings was no longer running because the thunderstorm-windstorm-tornado combination rolling into the city, so she asked me to drive her home. 

So, I drove her, after getting the boy, across a dark swath of Walkley Road, where all the streetlights were out, and every intersection a dark border. West down Walkley, peering for pedestrians at every sidestreet, then to McCarthy, blackness, and other drivers yielding, or frozen where they were, past the flashing cherries of police sedans, or blinded by fellow drivers who refused to turn off their brights, white-knuckling as they were, down a stretch of McCarthy under the full moon's gaze, guiding us where the night bore no promise. 

Then back, along night river of road under moonlight, down perilous Walkley where, at Bank, a four-way convergence of double lanes, and a car ripped past, passengers howling in delight. Then, along that river of fast night, that inky road unfamiliar, guided by oncoming headlights, that broken line the tact keeping me going, and bravery, rather foolish bravery, found in the comfort of the knowledge that moonlight allows better seeing than city light, and finally, streetlights, dotting in the distance. 

Home and alright, home after all, a perilous trip that you only feel afraid about afterwards, because you can't feel afraid during, but drive onward, knowing the road you've driven 1,000 times (I likely did drive that stretch more than that, as I used to drive that way to work for four years). The Walkley stretch was intimate, at least - the rest was complete, moonlight-drenched or chasms of the unknown that will likely be unrecognizable to me in daylight, and changed. I felt foolish for doing the journey, bringing my son along, but I wanted to help my co-worker get home safe, and to get him home from a friend's. Luckily, sometimes you don't have to see the road to know where you  are on the path.

Driving hometown streets, remembering those who passed early

With respect to my dear (but not old and boring friend, as she said) whom I just saw, I drive hometown streets. The air is sticky-humid August air. I consider those who lived here, in this paper-mill-and-hockey bordertown, populace of about 46,000, who were about my age and have passed on early in the past five years.

There’s Helen, of course, best friend of the dear friend I just saw. Helen passed away this February from a form of vulvar cancer.

There's  Leah W. (sister of my childhood best friend, and, like him, a devout Jehovah's Witness); J.P. Craig (brain cancer); Robert D. (suicide, unexpected,  in Ottawa); Chris R. (freakish motorcycle accident in San Francisco); Guy T. (freak bicycle accident in Kuwait; Guy worked for the oil refineries); Scott  M. (hypothermia and, ultimately, drowning, in a fishing accident, off the B.C. coast); Ian D. (heart attack, in the living room of the house he grew up in); Keith M. (car accident, in B.C.); and Bobby K. (brain cancer, in Toronto; he was not so much a friend as an antagonist, but who wishes brain cancer on an enemy?). 

And, of course, in all this, I remember Hugh DeCourcy, mentor and friend, who had a heart murmur. He died of a heart attack in Vancouver, on Sept. 3, 1996.

What to do with these heavy remembrances? Drive on, down Water Street, that old St. Lawrence River to my left, shimmering, as always, in the summer dark. A three-quarter moon shines through the billowy clouds. I take the curve past where the international bridge stood overhead from 1958 until last year, and head up the hill, past the empty acreage where the Domtar paper mill stood for about 137 years, uphill along Second Street, flanked by the one-storey wartime homes, deeper west, into my old neighbourhood. Things are utterly familiar. I could nearly walk this way with my eyes closed.

Things change. People leave. All I know is that I drive onward, fortunate enough to be alive and heavy with the burden of sadness and remembrance.

Marvel Two-in-One #1:T In Which the Thing (aka Ben Grimm) proves to be a jerk with the Man-Thing

Marvel Two-in-One  #1, The Thing and The Man-Thing. 1974.  

Writer: Steve Gerber. Artist: the legendary Gil Kane.

I had not known this was a bad early 1970's comic in which the Thing proves less than heroic.

In this issue, writer Steve Gerber gives both monsters a chance at being human again, but also reverts them back to their frightening forms. There's only one problem. Ted Sallis’ mind, as the Man-Thing, is broken. He's insane. Stallis is a shambling thing doomed to wander the swamps with no cognitive connection to his surroundings, save for observations and reactions. Sall is a walking EC horror comic.

So, Gerber's treatment is twisted and merciless. But it is his depiction of Ben Grimm (aka the Thing) that is notably mean-spirited.

In the opening pages, Ben Grimm terrifies a quiet, near-retirement-age shopkeeper, simply because Ben can’t stand that the Man-Thing has stolen his moniker. Or at least half of his name. The shopkeeper is left having palpitations and nearly passing out, with spots floating around his head. He is reduced to sitting, holding his head in his hands. 

"I've been a good man -- a religious man! I've done an honest business for forty-five years--!" he bemoans. "So...why me, lord? Why did you send him to me?" 

He is in such a state because Ben is envious and jealous. 

Oh, and then ol’ Ben hops a Greyhound and makes everyone seated around him sweat with fear. 

Of course, to get off the bus, the Thing bullies the bus driver.

"Hang yer blasted regulations!" the Thing say. "I say I want off! Now, do I haveta lean on ya-- or can we cooperate?"

"Rules.... were made to be...broken, I always say...!" the bus driver replies.

Notice the driver sweating. Everyone sweats around the Thing because he is a scary and mean character in this issue.

And don’t forget that at the first opportunity, Ben (as the Thing, no less), brutally swats Sallis aside because Sallis argues that brute force alone cannot defeat the son of the Molecule Man, the story's center-stage villain. Considering the disparity in their power levels here, one wonders why Sallis even survives the blow. But not for too long. The power-level discrepancy is left in the writer's hands. And readers can't have a dead Sallis, which translates a dead Man-Thing. So, needless to say, Sallis survives the brutal blow. And this, just after Ben and Sallis strike a tentative bond as allies and perhaps buddies. Ben merely decides to let him have it over a simple disagreement. 

In fact, even when Ted Sallis and Ben Grimm are in human form, Ben is still needlessly mean.

"But there me facilities here we can utlilize. We can't give up hope now!" Sallis says as they stroll through dusky Citrusville, Florida. "I meant what I said about hope, Ben!"

"Sallis--do me a favor, huh? Shut yer blasted trap already! I like  ya too much ta wanna knock yer teeth out ta keep my sanity!"

Ben's retort is particularly nasty, considering that once Ted Sallis is the Man-Thing, his sanity vanishes instantly. So Ben's mocking Sallis' mental instability and threatening him for being optimistic.

Getting back to the Molecule Man, the one-shot story's villain, behold his new and "more fearsome manner of garb" - a speedo combined with a lightning bolt design. He will strike fear into the hearts of beachgoers everywhere.

But, don’t worry. Even though the Thing has bullied, terrified and hit those weaker around him, he lets the Molecule Man wither away to dust because the villain killed a man just of spite. The lesson here is clear. Compared to the dastardly villain, the Thing is supposed to be heroic. Only he isn’t.  He’s unlikeable, more ill-tempered than in usual portrayals, with a short fuse and not a single kind word for those around him. Some hero. In short, Ben Grimm is a jerk in this odd, unusual and off-putting portrayal.

Thank you to Will Ludwigsen for Acres of Perhaps: Stories and Episodes

Thank you, Will Ludwigsen on this sunny summer morn, for fantastical spec in Acres of Perhaps: Stories and Episodes from Lethe Press. A heady concoction arguably inspired by Ray Bradbury, Harlan Ellison, Alan Moore and Shirley Jackson -but mostly Will Ludwigsen. Great work. Now back to civilization for me, and some fine beta reading.