Ego & Hubris: The Michael Malice Story
Ballantine Books
Harvey Pekar follows his last graphic novel, The Quitter, which delved into his own childhood (or, in comic-book parlance, his "secret origin"), with a similarly structured work. But unlike The Quitter or his previous American Splendor work, his new Ego & Hubris isn't about Pekar. Instead, it focuses on 29-year-old New Yorker Michael Malice.
Malice, as the drawing of Pekar on the cover says, "is a piece of work." He's relentlessly individual and rather alienated. He's smart (and arrogant about it), but lazy. He's personally virtuous to a point, but is incredibly cruel to others. A drawing of Malice tells us his life's story in first-person narration, from childhood to college to the corporate workforce to his struggle to do something meaningful creatively (if you know his work, it's likely from overheardinnewyork.com).
In a lot of ways, Malice seems like a total asshole, yet however mean and pitiless he may seem, he almost always offers a darn good reason for his actions, which makes him a fascinating character. If you worked with the guy, chances are you might hate him; if you read a graphic novel about him, however, you might still loathe him, but soon find yourself grudgingly admiring and, yes, even liking him.
This being a master autobiographical writer and persnickety crank writing a biography about a persnickety crank with a similar background, the immediate impulse is to compare Malice and his life to Pekar and his.
But soon you'll find yourself comparing Malice's life to your own, which is what makes this such a compelling read. After all, nothing is more universal than the personal, and this is as personal as you can get. Malice may be a piece of work, but he's still very much an Everyman. Because every man (and woman) is ultimately also a piece of work.
Slaine: Books of Invasions Vol. 1
2000 AD/Rebellion
The eye-gouging visuals of Clint Langley look like a slick mélange of digital and painted art, with virtually every panel seeming like the cover of a heavy-metal album. It makes Slaine something of an acquired taste, but at least it's quickly acquired.
If Langley's look isn't for everyone, it's hard to fault his stellar sense of design, as he gives fully rendered life to half-mythological characters like "Moloch of the Many Swords," a toothy, skull-headed monster that seems equal parts insect, Peter Jackson orc and H.R. Giger painting. And that's not even one of the more outré creature creations within.
The story, by British comics legend Pat Mills, distills a grab bag of Celtic and world mythology into a highly entertaining read about the title character, a savage barbarian king of ancient Ireland, and his war against the Sea People. It's dripping with testosterone, but reads like Beowulf without all the poetry.
The Black Coat: A Call to Arms #1
Ape Entertainment
This lavishly illustrated comic is like a paper-and-ink version of a classic Saturday morning serial from Hollywood's golden age. From its photorealistic black-and-white art to its scene-setting text intro; from its Zorro-esque hero to its inclusion of some public-domain monsters made famous by Universal Pictures, this comic book feels like a classic swashbuckler that Errol Flynn should have starred in.
The setting is New York City in the year 1775, when tensions between the crown and the colonies are beginning to climax. Prepared to battle the redcoats is the mysterious, masked man code-named Black Coat, a founding father who's not afraid to kick a little ass while the others worry over the wording of the Declaration of Independence.
In this first issue, BC battles a boatload of pirates and investigates a grisly murder that recalls those of Jack the Ripper. The script, by Ben Lichius and Adam Cogan, is pure genre potboiler, but so few people even bother doing this genre anymore (let alone doing it this well), that it can't help but feel refreshingly unique.