COMICS CULTURE SHRAPNEL from CBEM 333
Text: David J. Dentler
Pencils: John Haack
Inks: Ken Anderson
In recent years it has become more acceptable to accept things previous regarded as fantasy, science fiction, LIES. Roswell has become one of the most widespread and pervasive myths of the American psyche. John Edwards talks to the dead and as a result becomes the most popular show on the Sci-Fi Channel. Exorcism is making a big comeback as a practice of the Catholic Church. These changes don't represent an increase in the presence of supernatural forces in the world, but rather a dramatic shift as to our willingness to believe.
And all too readily come those who are ready to exploit that belief. It's sometimes meant as a scam, where you wonder exactly how fake Miss Cleo's accent is. But one recent trend has involved stretching the truth in order to entertain rather than inform. Fiction is twisted and manipulated into an apparent truth. The Blair Witch Project was one such example, a cunningly constructed illusion constructed from amateurish footage and carefully concealed lies. Months after the fact there still existed people who thought the film was a true story. A more recent example involves the novel House of Leaves, a book I consider to be the true spiritual sequel to Blair Witch, rather than the cinematic abomination I wasted two hours and a train ride on. House of Leaves messes with your head by setting the story into layers. Put as simply as I can get, it is a twice-annotated critical review of a documentary that doesn't exist. Which happens to reference itself twice, once as another novel no one's heard of, and another as the very manuscript you hold in your hands. Confusing? It's meant to be, and that's what makes it interesting and memorable.
Sometimes, the fiction-as-truth effect doesn't quite come off right. Such as with ShadowFish, a company seeking to pass off its publications as adaptations of supernatural research being conducted as I type this. Apparently it began with writer David J. Denter's grandfather, who disappeared after uncovering mystical texts that challenge almost every spiritual belief we had about our world. The younger Dentler would find this research and vow to continue the work, making it more accessible to students and other academia by publishing the newfound stories in a graphic novel format.
The first of these books if "Of the Cobra," of which Tzimtzum serves as a prologue. The book details the spiritual journey of a traveller named Narada, who seeks enlightments in the wake of his mother's untimely death. Here he encounters an old man in a desert dwelling and relates his story, a mix of metaphors and hidden meanings. The introduction instructs us to read through the conversation again, though I admit to not understanding it any better the second time. The tale is too much of a tease, a brief glimpse of potential that can either repulse or intrugue a potential reader.
The artwork is somewhat simplistic, similar to Sunday paper action comic strips like Prince Valiant or Flash Gordon. The dress and manner of the characters is reminiscent of a children's bible. Grandiose and archaic, but broken down into a visual style and format tailored for older children. Not dumbed-down, but lacking a dynamism and energy that would inure the work to any sort of high school or college audience. The panels are rectangular snapshots arranged in perfect unison on each page. Blank space is never left (and therefore never utilized as a technique) and the story never breaks free of the panel borders. While I normally would not concern myself with such technical considerations, the set-up and nature of the story demand something more than a simple progression of isolated images.
The lettering was somewhat distracting, being computer fonts I know too well that lack irregularities and therefore a sense of personality. The cover was of the distorted photoshop school, a warped image of a man neither revealing nor fitting to the tale within. Ultimately the entire package may leave a reader cold, having formed neither an emotional nor technical connection to the book.
I was disappointed because the setup was flawed, but promising. The idea of taking historical research and presenting it to the world as a comic is intriguing, formulating questions in the reader's as to their intentions. Why comics? Do they really believe in comics as an effective mass-medium? Or do they count on its subculture status as a way to spread the story without garnering too much unwanted attention? Perhaps publishing it in this format is a way to garner a dedicated following while discrediting the "research" in the eyes of conceited academics. Where there is doubt, there is also belief. I write this review and assert that ShadowFish Comics is creating another fiction, another fabrication, another LIE. But then I start to doubt myself...