Liō

One of my great pleasures is reading comics, cartoons, and other graphics. I have a whole bookcase devoted to this genre: everything from the Fantagraphics set of the complete Peanuts (the series is now up to 1978) to Doonesbury, from the graphic novels of Lynd Ward and Milt Gross to a graphic treatment of World War I by Jacques Tardi. I love political cartoons.

Here's a picture of part of my graphics bookcase.

Chuckbert introduced me to Liō. We carry the Liō books in the store and can't keep them in stock. They've become a great favorite of kids and adults alike.

When I opened Chuckbert's Christmas gift, a framed Liō print, I did a little happy dance around the living room. Thanks, Chuckbert!

Queen Victoria weighs in

Thank you, Chuckbert, for introducing me to The New Adventures of Queen Victoria. You'll need to click on the images to enlarge them.

Bazooka Joe to Carlos Ruiz Zafón

One of the bad things about living on 48th Street in the 1950s was that lots of my playmates had older sibs who gave them a head start at school. John H. had his sisters Maribeth and Diane. Sandy C. had her sister Avril and brother David. Lynn J. had Lee. They knew all about Tip and Mitten, and I was completely bewildered by what they were talking about. John H. once even told me, "You're so dumb, you can't even spell Tip!" Then he sneeringly spelled it: "T-I-P!" Lynn and Sandy weren't much nicer to me when we discussed reading and spelling. (A gang of five- and six-year-olds is the very crucible of Social Darwinism.)

I was desperate to catch up and learn to spell and read, so when I entered first grade, I was excited. Finally I'd learn to read by myself! I wouldn't have to ask Gram to read the Bazooka Joe comics to me. I wouldn't have to ask Mom to read the books and comics with bigger type! Let's go! Let's read!

Probably the lamest comics ever, but I really wanted to know what they said because the pictures were no help.

Miss Norma Jean Herman, my first-grade teacher, passed out the readers: Tip, Tip and Mitten, and The Big Show. And we read them over and over and OVER. No plots. Vapid characters. No themes. No building to a climax, no tension, no bad motives, no moral uplift. Just those three kids, Jack, Janet, and Sally, with their parents, Mother and Father, and their pets, Tip and Mitten, running, looking, and hopping. You can't build a compelling narrative with such limitations.

    

Well, yuck.

My desperation reached a white heat in second grade. Fortunately, second grade brought Miss Donna Siegfried--may her name be a blessing--who recognized a hunger when she saw it and fed that hunger. She read to us every day: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Real Book about Abraham Lincoln stand out in my memory. I think she was as bored by the primers as we were. 

Tom paints the fence.

Dad also recognized my hunger then and let me join the Real Book Club (whatever failings he had, he always said "yes" when I wanted a book). I got Real Books on jokes, magic, horses, dogs, the Mounties, Abraham Lincoln, farming, tall tales, crafts, mountain climbing, and the US Capitol, among others. The 16-volume Children's Hour set appeared in the coffee table in the living room. I ate them up. I was on my way!

The Children's Hour

Years ago at Izzy's suggestion, I made it my goal to read 25 new books a year. Now that I own a bookstore, I read for a living. As of today I've read 67 new books in 2008. The best one so far this year is The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. 

I love to read. That's all I wanted to say.

A sure-fire crowd pleaser or death on a cracker? You decide!

Even the mere mention of Velveeta imitation processed cheese-like food product gives BobBIE the All-Overs. This concept, featuring Agnes and her best friend Trout, might send her right over the edge.

Does it bother anybody else that Velveeta is not refrigerated in the grocery stores?

The Nietzsche Family Circus

Check out The Nietzsche Family Circus, which "pairs a randomized Family Circus cartoon with a randomized Friedrich Nietzsche quote. " I think Colleen will like it. It certainly takes most of the curse off the strip for me. That Billy!


Women can form a friendship with a man very well; but to preserve it--to that end a slight physical antipathy must probably help.

Comics coincidence? I think not.

Comics are the topics in Chuckbert's and Izzy's recent posts. I love comics and cartoons so much. I have all the Doonesbury books, all the Foxtrot books, both Agnes compilations, Calvin and Hobbes, Bloom County, and the complete cartoons of New Yorker magazine. I subscribe to two email comix lists.

What are your faves?

What, besides Cathy, do you hate? I hate Mallard Fillmore.

He's not psychotic; he's practicing for retirement

In a recent post on newspaper comic strips, ChuckBert made me think of my own favorite comics. Garfield isn't one of them.

Jon has the IQ of a toaster; Odie is a one-trick doggie with his drooling; and Garfield (known as Gustav in Sweden; he isn't funny there either) is a gross blight upon the gloss of all things feline. And yet I read it every day and became peevish and fretful because the strip was still in print after all these years.

But then I found Garfield Minus Garfield, a blog devoted to removing Garfield and his thought balloons from the strip to create "an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life." Now, instead of reading Garfield and getting cranky, I look forward to mentally removing Garfield from the strip. It's like watching a play by Harold Pinter now.