In the very first panel of this first issue of Peter Milligan’s and Tess Fowler’s comic Kid Lobotomy, the narrator and protagonist tells us about the “cut-up” technique of neurosurgery developed by “Dr. Burroughs”, and from there on it should be obvious that we’re not in Kansas any more. (The more discerning readers of course already got suspicious at the comic’s title.) It does not take long for Kafka to be referenced, too, and by then it is clear to everyone that we’re off to a wild ride.
This is obviously not your run-of-the-mill super hero comic. This being the first issue, it’s not quite clear what it is, actually – but not nothing actually constitutes a large part of the not inconsiderable fun in reading Kid Lobotomy. Whatever else it may turn out to be, however, it is very weird, and not afraid to show it – writer Peter Milligan and artist Tess Fowler were obviously enjoying itself while flouting pretty much every genre convention of comics and cramming in as many literary and artistic references as they could. This is probably not for everyone, but for my part, I’ll definitely continue with the series and am quite excited to read the next installment.
This blog has not been particularly lively last year, for a variety of reason – none of which was, I am happy to say, due to my lack of reading. Goodreads did their reading overview again, and for anyone who is curious about what I read in 2017 and did not write about, the link is here.
Not sure what next year will bring – I do want to write more, but just don’t seem to be able to muster the energy to actually do so. In any case, I wish everyone a wonderful holidays and a great start into 2018 – see you next year, I hope.
And here’s a song – not very seasonal, but highly relevant, very intense and emphatically worth your time:
After having read all six of the Chinese Classic Novels, it seemed like a logical continuation to go on to the Classic Japanese novel Genji monogatari; not just because of the geographical proximity but also because Japanese culture was greatly influenced by China back then (the early 11th century) and I was expecting something in a similar vein. As it turned out, I was profoundly mistaken in that assumption – The Tale of Genji is something quite different and fascinating in its own, unique way.
It’s not like I never read any comics – I have read several, even posted on this blog about some of them. But those were few and far between, and it took me quite some time to get through each of them. I’m not quite sure what the reason for this is – reading The Sandman quite thoroughly cured me of any residual ideas of comics being for kids that I might have had, and I always meant to read more. Maybe it’s my ongoing struggle with visual arts – but that never kept me from watching and enjoying lots of films. Maybe it is the hybrid nature of comics, straddling both literature and graphics, and feeling at home in the first and rather lost in the second, I always felt off-balance when reading comics.
“Maboroshi no Hikari” translates literally as “Light of Illusion” and I am tempted to read this as a reference to my favourite film by Eric Rohmer, Le Rayon Vert (i.e., “The Green Ray”). It is however fairly unlikely, seeing as the two film do not have all that much in common – although it has to be said that both figure a young female protagonist who is somehow out of synch with her surroundings.
I posted a couple of brief reviews on several (not all) episodes of the second season of the ongoing e-book serial The Witch Who Came In From the Cold; and while each of them is too short for a blog post, I was thinking that maybe it might be of inerest to someone if I posted the whole bunch colletively (which is either a desperate attempt to scrape out the bottom of the barrel to scratch out a new blog post or a clever way to go meta and imitate the serial / omnibus structure in my post – your pick).
trtoPretty much every single review of Matthew De Abaitua’s debut novel The Red Men which I have glanced at has compared him to one or two or several other authors and I am feeling that almost irresistible urge myself. Maybe comparison to others is unavoidable with this author – not because he is in any way derivative, but for precisely the opposite reason: His novel is so brilliant and original that it leaves readers bewildered and helpless, groping for the comparison straw just to have something familiar to hold on to.