Morning, all --

The Center for Cartoon Studies graduation is today.

Here's the talk I'm giving the students and their families this morning;
I'm counting on all of them being too busy to have time to read my blog before heading out to the morning brunch, where they'll be subjected to this -- surely, once is enough
(but at least enjoying some of White River's finest dining at the Tip-Top Cafe).

This one's dedicated to a few folks:

To my daughter Maia and my son Daniel;
to James and Michelle;
and to the great Joe Kubert,
for making dreams come true, and showing me the path.

Enjoy -- and have a great weekend.
_____________________

I’m going to direct my talk today to the parents as much as the graduates and fellow CCSers, so please, bear with me.

All we have are our stories.

When I was a kid, growing up in northern VT, there were things we took for granted:

America was the greatest nation in the world -- General Motors made the best cars -- Chrysler, Pan-Am and TWA and Howard Johnson would be around forever, and -- stories and comic books were kid stuff.

Comicbooks were for us KIDS, not for grown-ups.

It was tough being the only kid in Duxbury, VT who wanted to draw comic books for a living.

My next-door neighbor, Mitch Casey, was a couple of years older than me; he was the first person I ever saw draw a comic book -- tiny home-made, stapled pamphlets, made by folding 8 1/2 x 11 paper over, drawing the comic page by page on each side, and selling them for milk money at school.

Mitch taught me to draw comics, but as he got older, he abandoned our collaborative comic-creating efforts -- girls and sports were more interesting.

I kept drawing.

I kept making up stories.

My father, a military man who served in four branches of the service and worked hard all his life, blue-collar through and through, had a tough time with this.

Drawing never seemed a very manly thing to do, and how was his son ever going to earn a living doing something so silly? My older brother and younger sister volunteered for the military -- that made perfect sense to my father -- but I kept drawing, against all opposition and odds and attempts to steer me to more adult concerns, and this never, ever made sense to him.

In 1968, when I was thirteen, it just didn’t make sense to want to draw comic books all one’s adult life. I might as well have said I wanted to live on one of the moons of Saturn.

In 1968, if I wanted to try and turn a friend on to what I considered the best in comics, the best I could do was loan him or her a stack of worn comicbooks, saying, “These really are great!” Nine times out of ten, these would be superhero comics -- most likely Marvel superhero comics -- and these were still easily dismissed as ephemeral, childish things.

In 1968, there were no comic BOOKS, the term ‘graphic novel’ didn’t even exist yet. TIN TIN was still relatively unknown in America, and the only evidence of manga in America were Saturday morning TV shows like ASTRO BOY, adapted from Osamu Tezuka’s classic MIGHTY ATOM manga series (though we didn’t know that).

In 1968, when the great filmmaker Stanley Kubrick and great futurist and science-fiction author Arthur C. Clarke joined to make the ultimate sf film, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, they populated their future with artifacts and trademarks of the American corporations certain to survive into the 21st Century: Pan-Am, Howard Johnson, and so on.

Like I said, we knew in our heart of hearts those American business icons would last forever.

A lot has changed.

Every single American corporation that appeared in 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY no longer exists.

Chrysler no longer makes the best cars in the world -- in fact, they haven’t done so in decades. Chrysler is effectively no more, as of this past week; a shadow of its former self, a clutch of corporate assets to be sold off piecemeal by its current German owner.

But comic books are still alive and well. Comic books have been the wellspring of most of our summer blockbuster movies, habitually breaking opening weekend boxoffice records and now one of America’s major export successes.

In fact, America’s #1 export is no longer tangible goods -- steel, cars, manufactured goods -- but STORIES. Stories are the 21st Century’s coin of the realm, of the world.

Stories, characters, imaginary concepts, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTIES: movies, TV programming, music, novels, comicbooks and graphic novels. Many of America’s most lucrative exports derived from intellectual properties are adaptations of comic books and graphic novels, primary among them movie adaptations.

Comic books have grown up -- not only are there adult comics, but comic BOOKS -- GRAPHIC NOVELS -- have, for the first time in history, as of this past winter, eclipsed comicbooks in gross dollar sales. They are now in every book store, a known quantity, a desirable commodity.

This was unimaginable, a pipe dream, in 1968. But a generation dreamed -- the Will Eisners, Harvey Kurtzmans Jack Kirbys and Joe Kuberts of the world -- and dreams can come true.

But every generation has to MAKE their own dreams come true.

Every generation has to tell their stories to the next, TEACH the next, so that they can tell their stories -- so that they can dream, and realize their dreams.

A lot has changed.

For me, life changed when I attended the first comics college in North America, the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Art, Inc. in Dover, New Jersey. I went in the fall of 1976, a little over 30 years ago; I was a member of the first class, ever.

For me, life changed when my father, diehard blue-collar military veteran that he was and still is, met the founder of that school, Joe Kubert -- a man’s man, a military vet, and a hard worker who raised a large family (five kids!) on what he’d earned drawing comic books -- and suddenly, what I’d wanted to do all my life made SENSE to my father. It WAS possible. It WAS -- well, OK.

I owe so much to Joe, and to his school, to my Kubert School classmates and everyone who was there. It was a dream of Joe’s to pass on all he and his generation knows to US -- and what a gift it was, and remains.

It is perhaps the greatest gift I’ve ever received, since my parents gave me life itself. Joe and his peers told us their stories, and taught us to tell our own. Thank you, Joe.

I was already publishing my first work -- earning my first paychecks -- before I finished my first year in that two-year program. I graduated from North America’s first-ever cartooning college in the spring of 1978. I was entering the comics industry in a time of great turmoil and collapse, but my peers and I made our way into the industry, bit by bit, drawing by drawing, story by story, job by job, and by the 1980s we were part of a generation that changed comics. We made our mark, as best we could. We earned livings and raised families.

My God, my daughter graduated from high school in that once-faraway future year -- 2001!

My son graduated from high school four years later.

Who would have thought, in 2001, I would even have a daughter? A son?

And that I would be able to raise them both on what I earned telling my stories and drawing comic books?

A lot has changed.

I told my stories, and those I shared with creators I was lucky enough to work with; I made my mark in comics for three decades, and thought it was time to move on.

But my work wasn’t done -- it was important to tell my stories and pass on all I know to the next generation.

How, then, could I resist the invitation, from James Sturm and Michelle Ollie, to teach the first-ever class at North America’s only other cartooning college?

Well, I couldn’t resist. And here we all are, today.

We have our stories, one and all.

It has been my great privilege to teach, draw with, and get to know your children -- now adults, all -- the pioneer, first-ever class at the SECOND comics college in North America, the Center for Cartoon Studies. It has been a great, grand adventure for all of us, and no other class will experience what THEY have experienced, accomplish what THEY have accomplished.

They have stories they alone know, and can tell.

Many of them have already shared their stories, their art. They have self-published, here, many comics. Many of them have already earned their first paychecks as cartoonists and illustrators, and have completed or launched work on their first graphic novels.

They are part of the first American generation to grow up without any negative baggage attached to comic books. They are the first American generation to grow up with ADULT comics, GRAPHIC NOVELS, a part of their landscape, a reality rather than a dream.

They know there is nothing silly about telling stories. They value stories, the greatest American commodity today.

They are part of the first American generation in which intangibles -- stories, characters, ideas, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTIES -- are America’s #1 export, the fuel that drives the engines of pop culture, and they -- these students, these graduates -- are FULL OF IDEAS.

They have stories, and will make and tell many more. They know HOW TO PUT THEM DOWN ON PAPER, into digital space and the world, they have the necessary knowledge and tools to make their way in the world.

What they have, today, is worth more than Chrysler and Pan-Am and Howard Johnson, worth more than American cars or steel. In the 21st Century, stories are worth more than all that.

Your faith in them, their art, their stories -- in their dreams -- is commendable and wonderful.

They are entering as uncertain and difficult a world as any prior generation has. That’s scary, yes, but they are armed with their own unique stories and skills, their own unique visions and voices, and with the community they have formed here, with one another.

They are better prepared for the 21st Century than any of we who grew up in the 20th Century -- believe in them, because they believe in themselves -- and they are RIGHT to.

It’s THEIR world now. They have stories to tell. I want to see, hear, read them all.

It has been an honor to teach you, to know you, to work with you, to draw with you, to see you here, today, with your families. I look forward to knowing you, drawing with you, reading YOUR stories, YOUR comics and graphic novels, for years to come -- for the rest of my life.

May you know one another, love one another, dream and draw and change the world together, from this day forward. May you read one another’s comics for the rest of your lives, and teach all you know to the next generation.

YOU are the first graduating class of the Center for Cartoon Studies, and we applaud you.

And to Think it All Started Here...

Yep, that's James Sturm and I moving his studio across the street to what was, in the summer of 2005, the new Center for Cartoon Studies building. Hard to believe it's been two years, but here we are -- the first graduating class, about to graduate -- tomorrow.

It's been a heady, at times heavy week at the Center for Cartoon Studies. We've completed the senior thesis review sessions, and I'm savoring a little breather between that intense block of work (the prep in particular, though I loved reading and re-reading the thesis projects -- pretty stunning group of cartoonists going out into the big, bad world this Saturday!). Tomorrow is graduation, and I've got a little work to do to prep for that.

The intensity has been in part revolving around the mounting finality of this transitional period. It's been sad to say goodbye to some folks, and that will accelerate tomorrow, as many of the folks who have been absolutely central to our day-to-day lives together are leaving after commencement to their respective family homes. I had lunch with Rich Tommaso yesterday; Rich has become a great friend, we've bonded over a number of shared interests and Rich was an invaluable part of the Drawing Workshop I helmed for the Freshmen class this spring. Rich and graduate Caitlin Plovnick are moving to Brooklyn on Sunday, and I sure am going to miss them. Of course, we'll all keep in touch, and be seeing each other in the years to come, but the reality of the community of the past two years going through inevitable, here-and-now change that necessarily revolves around the departure of so many key community members is a real roller-coaster ride.

That said, part of the transition, too, is the evidence of the new incoming freshman class of 2009 -- CCS discussion board posts from incoming fall students has been ongoing all month, and soon we'll see a new community arrive, merging with the standing CCS community and bringing all the excitement, change and transformation that implies.

Ah, CCS; I'm now part of a college community, and all that entails. I love it.

______________

I saw Paul Verhoeven's new film Zwartboek/Black Book last night, and I can't recommend it highly enough. This is Verhoeven's best film in years, and a genuine return to form -- what The Pianist was for Roman Polanski, Zwartboek/Black Book is for Verhoeven.

For fellow Verhoeven fans (Steve Perry, take heed!), it's absolutely critical to note that this film isn't just his return to his Dutch roots, but also reunites Verhoven and writer Gerard Soeteman, who was absolutely central to Verhoeven's often brilliant pre-Hollywood body of work. In fact, Soeteman was Verhoeven's primary collaborative partner in the whole of the director's pre-Hollywood career arc, scripting and co-scripting what remain Verhoeven's best films, beginning with Verhoeven's debut feature Wat zien ik/Business Is Business (1971) and blossoming with Turks fruit/Turkish Delight (1973) and Keetje Tippel (1975), which in many ways provides a blueprint for Zwartboek, as did Soeteman/Verhoeven's breakthrough international hit Soldaat van Oranje/Soldier of Orange (1977). Zwartboek is almost a perfect fusion of Keetje Tippel and Soldaat van Oranje, chronicling as it does the often harrowing experiences of a Dutch Jewish woman (Carice van Houten, giving a powerhouse performance) struggling to survive WW2 in Holland, and the convoluted tangle of loyalty, deceit, devotion and corruption that entails.

Soeteman and Verhoeven built upon the success of Soldaat van Oranje with the excellent Spetters (1980), the marvelously delirious De Vierde Man/The Fourth Man (1983, which also introduced actor Thom Hoffman to international audiences; Hoffman features prominently in Black Book), and concluded this ripe collaborative streak with Flesh+Blood (1985, aka The Rose and the Sword), which sadly led to an acrimonious split of the team as Verhoeven rushed to Hollywood and launched that phase of his career by directing an episode of HBO's The Hitchhiker ("Last Scene," 1986) and the classic Robocop (1987).

That Soeteman and Verhoeven are back together is something to celebrate; that they are also hard at work at a second 21st Century collaborative effort, Azazel, is tremendous news, and promises Verhoeven may at last be free of the restraints Hollywood placed on his creative life (his last American film, Hollow Man, 2000, was derivative and disappointing at best). As already noted, this new work also reunites Verhoeven with Dutch actors from his classic Soeteman era: Thom Hoffman (who was Herman, the central object of desire in De Vierde Man), Derek de Lint (Alex in Soldaat van Oranje), Dolf de Vries (Turks fruit, Jack in Soldaat van Oranje, Dr. de Vries in De Vierde Man), etc. are familiar faces to Verhoeven fans, and it's exciting to see the chemistry onscreen anew.

All this makes Black Book the theatrical sleeper of 2007 thus far. Don't miss Zwartboek/Black Book if it's playing near you, and I'll post a review proper next week when I start squirting those overdue Cine-Ketchup packets all over the keyboard. It stands, along with Das Leben der Anderen/The Lives of Others and El Laberinto del fauno/Pan's Labyrinth, as the best film I've seen thus far this year.

_______________

Sorceror's Apprentice: Bush, Gonzales (NY Times photo)

Speaking of "loyalty, deceit, devotion and corruption," in real life,

this week's Congressional testimony yesterday of James B. Comey, former Deputy Attorney General under John Ashcroft, was a real jaw-dropper

and demonstrates the monstrous extremes that the Bush White House pursued to carry out its illegal, secret spying program against the people of the United States. I'm no Ashcroft fan, mind you, but it's startling to see how vast the ethical gulf between Ashcroft's reign and Gonzales's dynasty in the Justice Department really is, and how far we've fallen.

If you're clueless on this, it's time to catch up ("...an account of Bush administration lawlessness so shocking it would have been unbelievable coming from a less reputable source...") --

-- there's no more damning evidence of the corruption rampant in the Justice Department, and how irresponsibly current Attorney General Alberto R. Gonzales's behavior has been (and how fiercely he has exercised and exercises his loyalty to his President, placing that above US law and our Constitution).

Bye, bye, Wolfowitz (if you have the computer/high-speed access, also check out the two 'related videos' on the left menu bar at the Yahoo News site, particularly President Bush's gobsmacked incredulity); hello whatever next uber-corrupt crony President Bush appoints --

-- and we wonder (like children) why American credibility is so shot in the eyes of the world.

Have a great Friday, one and all...

Cool Cat

Tuco lovin' the sun (photo by G. Michael Dobbs)

Cool Daddy: I was on local TV -- WCAX-TV (Burlington, VT's primary TV station) -- in a story about the Center for Cartoon Studies.

Check it out; scroll down to the "Top Stories- Drawn Here Parts 1 and 2."

Note that one CCSer (hey, Emily!) says, "I was watching it on Windows Media Player on my PC at work and it went right to the part about the school but apparently if you try to watch it on a Mac it plays the whole newscast from the beginning which is a pain."

Full day of CCS duties today; I'll write something more tomorrow. Have a great Wednesday...

Top o' the World to You...

Monday Musings

There's a little more on the Ascutney climb to share with you all this morning, largely thanks to the arrival of photos from the trip itself and scans (compliments of CCS no-longer-just-a-freshmen Bryan Stone) of the two pages I drew between 3:30 and 5 AM the morning after. A little explanation is in order, though, before you get a peek at those two pages.

Here's Bryan's photo of the whole CCS hiking party last Wednesday atop the fire tower on Mount Ascutney -- from left to right, Chuck Forsman, Ross Wood Studlar, Dane Martin, Alex Kim, Sean Morgan, Peter Money and yours truly -- since he snapped the photo, Bryan is absent from this shot.

However, I know Peter and Sean took some photos up there, too, so hopefully we'll have a complimentary shot featuring Bryan up on the blog before the week is out.

As you can see from these two photos, it was a grand and glorious day weather-wise. Bryan posted his pix online, and

you can see them all here, followed by more photos from the CCS Montreal trip (including more Drawn & Quarterly office shots).

Now, like I said, a little explanation is in order this morning.

You see, the following two pages of Bissette comics art are the concluding two pages of an epic battle James Sturm orchestrated and conducted in his CCS cartooning class two or so weeks ago. I only know it as Fight Comics -- no direct correlation to the Fight Comics of the Golden Age, that I know of -- and it looked to me (correct me if I'm wrong, CCSers) like every member of the freshmen class created a character for the brawl, and via some arcane democratic or tyrannical system I'm not privy to, an order was voted upon, raffled, designated or divined for each artist and their respective character to have a one-to-two page face-off, with the winner of each match then going on to the next match, until by process of creative collaborative elimination only two characters were left.

In the end, James asked me if I'd draw the concluding page(s) -- in essence, end the battle, conclude the climax, decide the winner and hence get James off the hook if anyone was unhappy with the resolution (note: "It's Bissette's fault!" has now entered a new era of relevance and validity for a whole new generation). It was also, of course, an honor, but also a duty. A duty to CCS, and to James, and to all who ply the inky trade. My Captain called, and I must answer. My Commander-in-Chief beckoned, and I obeyed. The orders were given, the sails were set, the die was cast, the shit hit the fan.

I was handed a stack of odd-sized photocopies, and instructed to resolve the seemingly unresolvable, pitching a character named "Bryan Stone" -- shown in the character design sheet lifting his glasses and blasting deadly light rays from his eyes, like Cyclops in the X-Men -- against a character both adorable and ungainly, the 'Baby With Adult Legs.' The kid sure is cute, but man, those hairy adult male legs just put you right off your Maypo, bunky.

[Photo: The real Bryan Stone and Joe Lambert; photo by Becca Lambert.]

Now, Bryan Stone, as you may have determined this late in this morning's post, is a real guy.

He's an adorable guy, in fact, just as sweet-natured, benevolent, kind, attentive and mild-mannered as any person I've ever met (and a heckuva cartoonist, too). Bryan Stone was created by -- well, his parents. The real Bryan Stone, that is.

However, the deadly-eye-ray-blasting Bryan Stone was created by

JP Coovert,

also one hell of a cartoonist and a fellow no-longer-just-a-freshman at the Center for Cartoon Studies. Baby With Adult Legs was created by

Joe Lambert,

another motherfucker of a cartoonist and no-longer-just-a-freshman CCSer.

[Photo: The real JP Coovert, photo by Joe Lambert.]

So, this is what James handed to me. The fate of two comics characters just out of the incubator, barely in the world more than a week but already battle-tested and toughened by ink-and-paper warfare -- babes in the woods, yes (literally, in the case of Baby With Adult Legs), but already trench-war-hardened vets.

But it was not just their fate I held in my hands, but that of their creators -- cuddly Joe Lambert and huggable JP Coovert -- and, damn it, that of the real, flesh-and-blood Bryan Stone! A man's man, cruelly thrust (by JP) into a world of panels, pages, pus, puke and panic!

How would I resolve this conundrum without inflicting undue (due is OK) agony on any one, maybe two of these virginal young cartoonists, aching to pop their inky cherries against the calloused rubber condom wall of the real world?

How would I end this senseless violence, this epochal combat, without letting down one or more of these budding geniuses, who are so eager to spew their creative juices into the collective womb of our open, festering brainpans?

How could I condone the sadistic, no doubt visually glorious murder of either Bryan Stone, death-ray-eye-conduit though he be, or Baby With Adult Legs, the toddler on ten pins, the Titan Tyke, the spittle-flecked sprinter?

How?

How?

How?

Now, there's one other player in this drama -- he-who-must-never-be-forgotten by we who ply the inky trade here at the Center for Cartoon Studies, and most of all not to be overlooked by we who teach the inky trade at CCS.

And that, my friends, is Inky Solomon.

What can I possibly say about CCS's spiritual leader, the legendary cartoonist and teacher Inky Solomon, that has not been said before (and better) by others?

Though the pen-and-ink Inky has been delineated (and co-created, in his way) by James Sturm and Seth, legendary cartoonists in their own right, Inky Solomon has nestled into the souls of all who dwell at CCS.

He has swept away the pine needles and softened the stone floors of our hearts, carefully prepared the kindling we all harbor and built a warming little fire in our bellies, fueling the comics jones we share until it erupts into raging bonfires of creative life! Inky is our Dolemite, making of us all Human Tornadoes; he is our beatific Buddha, our jazzy Jesus, our infinite Inky!

So, troubled though I was by the task placed within my hands, stern though the Sturm mission was now yolking my sturdy shoulders, fragile be the lives laid in my sweaty palms, frightful the soul-crushing potential of any misstep I might take, I turned to our own CCSolomon, Inky -- the Inky within.

I consulted my inner Inky, the calm core of peace and tranquility that a half-century of life cartooning has coalesced, and determined the following:

1. I would not 'decide' anything. Life would decide.

2. If Joe Lambert showed up Wednesday morning for the Mount Ascutney hike, Baby With Adult Legs would win.

3. If either JP (creator of Bryan Stone, comics character) or Bryan Stone (comics character incarnate) showed up Wednesday morning for the hike, Bryan Stone would win.

4. If either Joe and JP, or Joe and Bryan, showed up, the battle would win (in typical comicbook fashion) in a draw -- a draw, with neither winning nor losing, but both ending up in a happy, wonderful, heavenly place, except there would be no My Little Ponies there (surely, a circle of hell is inhabited by those little bastards).

5. If none of the trio showed up, both characters would die horrible, agonizing, extremely graphic and terribly grueling deaths.

Thus it was decided; thus Wednesday morning came and went, and thus this was the fateful conclusion I wrote, drew and lettered Thursday morning, as the sun rose and the new day began:

Note: Joe Lambert and James Sturm are already working on scanning the complete Fight Comic and posting it in some form online soon. I'll keep you posted (pun intended), and I'm as eager as any of you to see/read it all!

PS: This is the final week of the Spring semester here at the Center for Cartoon Studies -- a fateful week for us all. Graduation is this coming Saturday, our first graduation ever. We've already had some heartbreak, some tears and fond farewells as some of our number move on into their summers or into their lives, away from CCS and White River Junction and this growing creative community; we're already into the momentous evaluation of the senior final thesis projects, with two full days ahead of 9 AM to 5 PM one-on-one assessments. It's a heady week here -- send your best to the CCS students, those with us, those departed; those moving into their new lives in the real world, those moving into their second year; those coming new to the fold and experience this coming fall.

We're at a crossroads and the shifting of a new axis as definitive, new and unexplored as that we encountered at the very beginning of the school's existence in September of 2005.

Wish us all luck, please.

Here's to CCS, one and all!

May Inky be with you all -- have a great Monday!

PPS: My old friend Neil Gaiman has posted some lovely photos and a few comments about this past weekend's historic wedding of Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie

here, so enjoy.

Nice to know they're wed at last, and much love to both, where ever they are.

We're Not Quite Done Yet, and Already We're Nostalgic:
The Infection of Time, Or,
A Sunday Morning Peek at
Joe Lambert's CCS Photos --

As I spend the weekend pouring over an incredible array of final thesis projects from the Center for Cartoon Studies seniors and gifts of final projects from most of the CCS freshmen (soon to be seniors!), I'm moved to steer you to

Joe Lambert's pix of the May 2nd CCS Drawing Workshop session in my new backyard,

which was immediately followed that very afternoon with a drawing session from this miniature city we had constructed the week before -- a whirlwind of activity Joe has also documented via pix (scroll down to Joe's "Box City" photo album posting).

Left: Morgan Piellizilla. Hey, we still have to 'Godzilla' the city, guys and gal!

All of Joe's pix illuminate this old Myrant post on a recent Drawing Workshop exercise, if you want more context --

-- and although we're only two days past the completion of final projects (for both classes), I'm already revisiting and working on revised Drawing Workshop syllabus outlines to streamline and improve the whole two-semester effort for next year. Sigh. So little time, so much to draw and teach.

Joe's blog is always worth a visit, currently opening with photos from the CCS trip to Montreal (including a peek inside the Drawn & Quarterly offices, for those curious about that megalithic corporate universe) and other CCS activities. Thanks, Joe!

(More CCS in Montreal pix are here, compliments of fellow freshmen Penina Gal. Thanks, Penina!)

Here's a link to a venue for some of Joe's comics, too, which are -- well, excellent.

(Fair is fair: since I'm linking in thanks to Joe's sites, Penina's fine illos and comics creations are also visible here, and they're pretty damned good, too.)

Now, before I get into today's intensive reading, re-reading and note-taking from the thesis projects, I'm off to the flea market -- yep, it's that time of year.

Clear, sunny, but cold -- ah, flea market season in a new part of Vermont. What wonders await me?

Have a great Sunday, one and all --

Saturday. Stuff.

Hey, Look, Mom! I'm in the Christian Science Monitor! Nifty article and pix on our beloved Center for Cartoon Studies,

link compliments of Rutland Herald reporter, Trees & Hills Comics group co-founder, and all-around swell guy Dan Barlow. Hey, Dan, and thanks.

And if you didn't get to check this out earlier this week when I posted it, here's Indie Spinner Rack's interminable interview with yours truly. C'mon, it's the weekend -- you've got time now, don'tcha?

John Totleben hisself send this link, exclaiming, "Check this out -- pretty freakin' wild!" and whatdyaknow, it sure is!

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the Most Dangerous Cyborg in the World continues to spread doubt, discord, distress and terror in the Middle East...

Have a Great Saturday!

Old Hikers Never Die,
They Just Smell That Way

So, Peter Money and I led a valiant group of CCS students up Mount Ascutney yesterday.

Well, Peter led. Actually, Sean Morgan -- CCS senior, Brownsville local, a man who knows the mountain and was climbing like a mountain goat -- led. Peter and Sean led, joined by fellow vet woodsman and CCS senior Ross Wood Studlar and freshmen Chuck Forsman, Dane Martin, Bryan Stone and Alex (Joon-Ho) Kim. A fine time was had by all.

As the oldest poopster of the party, 52-year-old Bissette held his own, sweeping behind for at least the final third of the climb, but I kept up and I made it to the top. But man, oh man, it was a climb.

I hadn't hiked a mountain in over nine years -- I used to hike

the beloved North Duxbury landmark Camel's Hump

regularly in my youth. Even a couple of winter hikes, mind you -- I was a boy scout, and I loved hiking.

But I was in my forties when I made my last climb (Haystack in Wilmington), and I tell you, I was feeling the years yesterday. Particularly in the last mile of the 3.2 or so mile hike uphill. The equivalent hike down went much quicker and (per usual) tested a whole different set of leg and foot muscles, but it was easier on the ol' bod that the climb up. Gravity, you know.

As Dirty Harry quipped in Magnum Force, "A man's got to know his limitations." I used to climb Camel's Hump's 4,080+ feet once or twice a year and love it, but I was a much younger man then. Mount Ascutney is far shy of Camel's Hump's altitude (see below), but it sure marks my current limit -- though I fully intend to visit the peak this summer, I'll take the car up to the near-summit parking lot and walk that mile versus the 3+ miles uphill we managed yesterday. It's unlikely I'll be making the hike we made yesterday ever again in this lifetime, unless it's as ashes in an urn for my students to spread over the summit.

Peter and I planned this way back in December 2006 and this past January. It was our intention to bring the entire freshmen class on this end-of-the-year sojourn, but alas, due to a number of issues I shan't go into here, that didn't happen as we'd hoped. Still, we stuck to our staffs and those who could join us, did.

Since the state park proper is closed until May 18th -- the day before CCS graduation -- planning a day trip that involved simply driving ourselves to just shy of the summit (there's apparently a parking lot between the south peak and summit; a less-than-a-mile foot trail takes you to the summit) was impossible. So, we decided, Peter and I, to make the climb to the peak on the Brownsville Trail, and just go for it.

Who is this Peter Money cat? He teaches at CCS, and he's a poet and a good man. Check him out.

What's this Mount Ascutney thang? Rather than bore you with historical and contextual blather, here's the Wikipedia listing for the mountain,

and here's the tech-stuff at Peakbagger.com, for those into such matters.

We made the climb. It was memorable, a great, grand experience. I'll write about it in some detail later -- jeez, I not only climbed it, I came home and prepped for the coming week of CCS and drew two complete pages for James Sturm's CCS class today (the climax to a class 'round robin' 'versus' comic, which concludes with my "Baby With Adult Legs vs. Bryan Stone" final round -- Baby With Adult Legs created by Joe Lambert, Bryan Stone by -- uh, Bryan's mom, I think. And his Dad. I hope.) -- so I'm too pooped to blog much today.

I'm not sure how high up we were -- there's some confusion in the available literature on the mountain.

Ross checked his hiking guide in the drive to Peter's house to eat after we were off the mountain, and reported it was 2600 feet, rated as a 'strenuous climb' (that it was!), but I don't know about that height.

We passed the North Summit sign, marking 2600+ feet, and there was still considerable climbing after that. Since the parking lot for the park is reportedly at an elevation of 2,800 feet, I reckon we climbed at least a wee bit higher than that, whatever the hiking guide books say otherwise. I know that after the North Summit sign, we climbed for at least another half hour, and it was all climbing!

Anyhoot, we made it to the observation tower. This was originally a fire tower; the cabin was long ago removed and the whole contraption has been relocated, and the views are breathtaking, encompassing the entire landscape round Ascutney's peak. We didn't make it to Brownsville Rock, which was about another 1/4 mile northwest of the summit -- Sean told us about this (it's a hang gliding launch site), but going to and coming from the tower we passed the sign for the Rock and simply continued on our way; nobody even commented on it. Next time, eh?

If you're into going yourself some time, check out the Vt. State Parks site, with mucho links to this and that relevant to such a trek.

Here's all the trail particulars, too, for those in any way interested in reading more about the hike.

OK, enough on that -- for now. If anyone who had cameras send me pics, I'll post 'em here!

In any case, gentlemen -- Peter, Chuck, Sean, Dane, Ross, Alex, Bryan -- it was a real honor to climb that rock with all of you, and it's a day I'll savor to the end of my days. Thanks for making it happen!

Things to ponder today:

As Head Honcho Asswipe continues to dodge his own culpability for this war-funding situation, acting like the sociopathic self-centered 'no one says no to me' colostomy bag leakage he continues to come across as (if it were so damned vital, why leave it out of the federal budget every single year of these interminable wars and require seven ancillary budgets to be voted through make up for the shortfall?),

and Vice-Cyborg McQuack-Quack further aggravates what Condi already fucked up so adroitly last week ("So we blew your country and all existing infrastructures completely to shit on false pretenses -- get over it! Get up on your own damned feet and act like men instead of like you're ravaged by four years of war, still without clean water, electricity, food or any shred of civilized security! What are you, a pack of pansies?"),

let's have another reality check in assessing how completely they've only spiraled the increasingly dire fiscal situation of the average American:

"The real income of the bottom 90 percent of American taxpayers has declined steadily: they earned $27,060 in real dollars in 1979, $25,646 in 2005."

- Heather Boushey and Christian E. Weller, "What the Numbers Tell Us," in James Lardner and David A. Smith, eds., Inequality Matters (New York: 2005), p. 36.

"The 2006 round of tax cuts delivers 70 percent of its benefits to the richest 5 percent of Americans, and 6.5 percent to the bottom 80 percent."

- Clive Crook, "The Height of Inequality," Atlantic, September 2006, p. 36.

Have a Great Thursday, You Paupers!

Yakkadee Yak Yak:
Tuesday Tales

As our benevolent government again sends its most effective, truthful and tinged-with-the-grace-of-humility-and-fair-play diplomats abroad to solve all that is wrong in the Middle East,

I prefer to direct you to

The Indy Spinner Rack, where they have just posted their Center for Cartoon Studies program -- your Bissette 'lecture' for today, in spades!

Have a great Tuesday.

The Site is Up!
Well, upright --

Kudos to Cat! The website -- in its fetal form -- is up!

Well, the home page is, in any case,

and we'll be packing every nook and cranny with content -- memories, reveries, art, photos, diatribes, screeds, homages, eulogies, threnodies and melodies -- in the coming weeks. Thanks, Cat, and bless you!


Cat's been raring to go all week; alas, it's been my busy schedule keeping me away from the process. CCS duties (especially in our final weeks of this crucial semester), speaking gigs (yesterday I was in Fairlee, VT, speaking at a gathering of VT librarians at the opulent Lake Morey Inn, on the shores of Lake Morey) and family obligations (Happy Birthday to Maia -- and we'll seeing Danny for breakfast in a couple of hours) have kept me away, but thankfully the Cat will play with or without me -- hence, the site home page, up and running.

I'll be at it with Cat this week and every week hereafter, though, so keep an eye on the site daily. After CCS graduation (May 19th), we'll really be arming for bear, so look for big advances and changes later this month. Soon, this blog will be the appendage, rather than the focal point. Still, I'll keep it fresh and as daily as I can!

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A reminder, too, as we move into spring proper and early warm weather travel for some of you, that my booth is up and running at the Vermont Antique Mall in Route 4's easy-access Quechee Gorge Village. This is my retail venue, and I'm working hard to ensure it's also a venue for Center for Cartoon Studies students -- if you're curious about what the artists at CCS are up to, this booth will provide an ongoing retail space for their work.

As of yesterday, I've placed well over 200 items in the booth, jam-packed now with CCS mini-comics (all $ go to the students who made 'em), Bissette collectibles, rare DVDs and videos, tons of comics (including 'bricks' of 1980s and '90s comics bargain priced), books, curios, doodads, movie promo rarities, and much, much more (including one of Marge's needlepoint creations).

In fact, CCS artist (and soon to be pioneer class graduate) Colleen Frakes has already upped the ante by offering her mini-comic for sale with a panel of original art in every bagged copy!

(If you can't make it to the booth in person, contact Colleen directly through her site and mail-order your mini-comic-with-original-art now, while they're still available -- don't dawdle, now, as quantities are limited, and tell Colleen I sent ya, please!)

All these goodies are signed by their respective creators, and there's even handy, fairly-priced (a bargain for you, but still earns for the creators) pre-packs and 'bag o' comics' collecting multiple issues and collectibles together. I'm doing all I can to make this booth a one-stop-shop delight for anyone into sampling the works of CCS artists -- and my own humble efforts, of course.

Here's the link to the Vermont Antique Mall venue at Quechee Gorge Village, including directions, hours, and so on.

I'm dealer #653 -- ask at the front desk, they'll happily take you there! -- and Marge and I will be posting photos of the booth and pix of my line of painted ceramic originals, which will be available exclusively at the booth.

More on this -- including links, pix, and more -- later this weekend.

PS: The first Quechee Gorge Village outdoor flea market is this Sunday, starting at 7 AM -- get there early if you want to beat me to the best deals, bunky!

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Now that I'm no longer actively able to preorder my DVDs via my old video store source, I'm scrounging around for info and venues like everyone else. Among the most eagerly awaited of the upcoming summer crop of DVDs for this avid omnivore is

the upcoming Media Blasters "Tokyo Shock" release of Ishiro (aka 'Inoshiro') Honda's Frankenstein Conquers the World/Furankenshutain tai chitei kaijû Baragon (1965) -- here's the link to Tim Lucas's Video Watchblog post on this divine visitation (as a two-disc set, no less!).

All of which reminds me I've been meaning to ask the help of the gathered Myrant readership in an ongoing search of an issue of Esquire magazine from my youth.

I'm guessing the issue I seek came out sometime between 1971 and 1973, though I could be wrong; I'm pretty sure I picked it up while still in high school (I graduated in '73). I've scoured the Esquire website -- which does not list issue contents, sadly -- and vainly searched Esquire covers in hopes of recognizing the cover for the issue I seek, but no memory bells have as yet rung, and I've peeked at every single cover from 1966 to 1976.

The Esquire in question was an issue with an odd short, illustrated article on 'Good/Bad Monster Movies,' prominently featuring Frankenstein Conquers the World and The Beast of Hollow Mountain in that lineup, both with full-page pix. If memory serves, each film enjoyed a single-page writeup and one large black-and-white photo image, and it was a short piece -- no more than six pages, as I recall. Still, the author clearly loved the films, and it was an early landmark in the fusion of the broader pop culture with the rarified realm of the monster magazines. It was also a key work (by my reading experience, anyway) in the gradual elevation of what the mainstream had habitually dismissed as 'bad movies' into the strange, privileged status of sought-after treasure -- a tentative bridge between Susan Sontag's "Notes on Camp" and her essay on science-fiction disaster films and the Medved Brothers's books on "turkeys" (the tomes that elevated Ed Wood to posthumous star stature as the patron saint of 'bad movies').

That the Esquire article chose Frankenstein Conquers the World was, at the time, a fascinating turn of events; after all, even Joe Dante Jr.'s review of the film in Castle of Frankenstein's "Movieguide" (a fixture of what was definitely the most intelligent and adult of all '60s newsstand monster zines) had villified the film, and even Forrest J. Ackerman had apologized in the letter pages of Famous Monsters of Filmland for running a cover photo-feature on the film (with an eye-popping beaut of a Ron Cobb cover painting!). At the time Esquire ran the piece, the only extant 'movie guides' with capsule reviews (beyond TV Guide's blurbs -- many written by Bhob Stewart, another CoF vet -- and regional TV schedule publications) were the Steven Scheuer Movies on TV paperbacks, which by and large dismissed any and all genre fare, and, for the diehards, the ongoing serialized "Frankenstein TV Movieguide" in Castle of Frankenstein. All of these reviled the 1960s Toho sf and monster films; even CoF despaired of the Toho formula after Ghidrah, The Three-Headed Monster initiated the 'monster rally' formula so beloved today.

This Esquire article also predated Take One magazine's affectionate article on the Godzilla films, and hence stands as perhaps the first mainstream acknowledgement of the subversive charge of the Toho daikaigu-eiga. Thankfully, Greg Shoemaker of Ohio was already publishing his fanzine Japanese Fantasy Film Journal (alas, I gave my set away back in the mid-70s during a move, though I kept one fateful issue -- Greg published my first fan art in JFFJ), so we diehard Toho fans were beginning to recognize one another and our mutual love for films like Frankenstein Conquers the World, but there weren't many of us, and there were certainly no mainstream venues for such sentiments -- other than this elusive Esquire aberration, which I need to track down, and soon.

So -- can anyone help me locate that issue of Esquire? I'd welcome guidance, suggestions, links, photocopies, or anything, really, at this stage. Thanks!

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As if you needed more proof that zombies are truly 'in' --

As of this week, Google's 'Blogger Buzz' intro page (where we bloggers all sign in) has opened with the following:

Old Blogger is dead! Long live Blogger!

Today at Blogger HQ we accomplished one of our most significant milestones ever: we changed old Blogger’s monitoring from “page us when it goes down” to “page us if it comes back to life in a horrifying, zombie state.”

Now, "a horrifying, zombie state" is a curious enough turn of phrase, but it's also an active link

to this Jonathan Coulton music video by Adobe Program Manager Mike Spiff Booth, which is a pretty strong push from Google for a specific vid, don't you think?

I'm happy for Jonathan Coulton and all the attention his song "re: Your Brains" is thus earning -- hmmm, how do the rest of us schlubs land a Google push? "Jonathan makes his songs available online

(www.jonathancoulton.com)

via the Creative Commons license, which enables projects such as this video. He has a podcast called Thing A Week where he puts out a song a week to keep his creative juices flowing. He's said he's going to keep it up until someone pays him to do it for real." Alan Moore fans take note: "The song at the end of the video is "Mandelbrot Set", another great Jonathan Coulton song."

And that's all the plugging Jonathan gets from me for now. He's got Google on his side, and needs no other.

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I'm outta here -- have a great Saturday, one and all!

I held back posting this photo on May 1 -- everyone knew. If you didn't, you're sound asleep. Sleep on.

Mission is Not Accomplished, of course. And I'm not just referring to the Iraq War, or the war in Afghanistan, or the War on Terror. What the present architects of our nation have brought upon us -- whether intentionally or not simply no longer matters -- is the End of the Empire. We have seen the clear signs -- Hurricane Katrina is still the most devastating and visible landmark, though most continue to ignore it, just as we're right this moment ignoring the silent, invisible, inexplicable devastation of the honeybee hives presently underway. We are amid the process; we can ignore or deny it, but it is happening. The May 1st photo is a mere moment in that process, but a vital one nonetheless.

I put it to you that what we are amid is nothing less than the eve of the collapse of the Empire -- a major change in US history, unprecedented and certainly unlike anything the present generation has experienced or even entertained, outside of dystopian sf.

An essay well worth reading (thanks to Jean-Marc for steering this link our way):

"Closing the 'Collapse Gap': the USSR was better prepared for peak oil than the US" by Dmitry Orlov

"My talk tonight is about the lack of collapse-preparedness here in the United States. I will compare it with the situation in the Soviet Union, prior to its collapse. The rhetorical device I am going to use is the "Collapse Gap" – to go along with the Nuclear Gap, and the Space Gap, and various other superpower gaps that were fashionable during the Cold War..."

Get ready, folks.
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Still, teaching must go on. We must draw. Yesterday's CCS Drawing Workshop was a two-part affair, building on last week's two-part session: last week, we were visited by botanical illustrators

Bobbi Angell

and Susan Riley, both making the old drive from Marlboro to White River Junction, VT, a drive I know well. Bobbi and Susan presented a two-hour workshop on observational drawing of plant life, which most of the freshmen jumped into with enthusiasm, though it'll take time to build the observational skills essential to the task(s). Bobbi and Susan were terrific.

After that, we spent 90 minutes or so constructing a cardboard city -- a miniature, but for that fairly expansive: about 10' x 9' x 3', with a faux mountain overlooking the village like something out of a Guy Maddin film.

For yesterday's session, both were followed up with:

DRAWING WORKSHOP -- May 2nd -- PART ONE
(1 PM - 2:45 PM)
BRING ALL DRAWING SUPPLIES YOU NEED for OUTDOORS DRAWING

Building on last week’s session with BOBBI ANGELL and SUSAN RILEY, we are spending the first part of today’s session DRAWING OUTDOORS. I have lots of WOODS behind my house -- it’s all yours to draw in until 2:35 PM!

THEN -- leave Bissette house at 2:45 PM, reconvene at the VERIZON BLDG., DOWNSTAIRS at 3 PM for PART TWO of DRAWING WORKSHOP.
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EXERCISE TWO, May 3, 2007 - Drawing Workshop!

Composite Cityscapes

This is a two-step process of drawing an imaginary cityscape from a constructed miniature -- our cardboard city -- and then customizing your drawings referencing from the real buildings, streets and sidewalks of White River Junction. You should end up with three drawings, completed in either pencil or ink, depending on your preference. These should be tight drawings, suitable for use in a comic, as illustration, or as tight reference.

1. ROUGH OUT no less than THREE city areas from any view -- and please, choose three different observation points (from above, from street level, etc.) -- modeled from the constructed miniature.

Be sure to use lighting to rough in the forms of the structures and a cohesive light source; we have enough lights for each group to create its own light source, or move them as needed once one group is done.

These roughs should have no surface details -- no windows, doors, signage, fire escapes, etc. -- beyond what the constructed reference provides.

Be inventive, be imaginative -- this doesn’t need to be a ‘realistic’ contemporary city, as much as an environment that looks ‘lived in’ and seems believably three-dimensional in construction. Perspective can be roughed out -- this is not an exercise in perspective per se.

2. The three roughs will now be ‘fleshed out’ and COMPLETED from LIFE REFERENCE in and around our White River Junction neighborhood.

Open your eyes, and complete your miniature-referenced buildings, streets, etc. with the details of LIFE. Add building textures (wood, brick, stone, glass), add attached structures (fire escapes, building signs -- including those painted ON buildings -- canopies, etc.), doors, windows, sidewalks etc. to create three fully detailed, rendered city scenes.
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I followed up with a short talk, which essentially said the following:

Building on today's Part Two session, though this was a tight exercise timewise, the principle is simple:

If you need to create a convincing urban scene, however small the town (e.g., White River Junction) or metropolitan the city (e.g., Tokyo, New York, Chicago, etc.), create a simple miniature for yourself using cardboard or board -- just to create the building forms, which you can then light for shadows -- then 'wrap' a more realistic or representationally convincing detailed street scene around those forms.

Photo reference is invaluable in this process --

check out a standard Google search for city street scenes

and extend the exercise in your sketchbook to fully grasp the principle -- pick a city to reference, and turn your original cardboard city roughs into an imagined street from a specific city.

This, after all, is what theatre set designers, special effects creators, miniature experts (still used for movie special effects, amusement park rides using '3-D' holographic imagery, like the Universal City Back to the Future ride, or for CGI creations for films, games, etc.), and many artists do.

In comics, this is the kind of thing Gerhard used to do for Cerebus, Herge for Tintin, Richard Corben for his comix and comics stories, etc. -- construct models (usually out of matte board or a similar stiff, cutable board) of specific settings, interiors and exteriors, and use them for reference in creating their drawn panels and pages. I used to visit Dave Sim and Gerhard in their Kitchener, Ontario, studio, and Gerhard occasionally constructed very detailed miniature reference 'sets' for portions of Cerebus -- especially if it was an interior set (like Rick's Tavern) or exterior that would be in play for an extended portion of the narrative.

I know this seemed a 'play' session, last week and this, but don't underestimate the value of the lesson, and the principle. It may serve you well in the future!
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OK, off to work. I have a heady morning with the seniors, and a relaxing afternoon savoring two back-to-back sessions with Ivan Brunetti teaching.

Ah... until the Empire collapses, we will draw. After the Empire collapses, we will still draw. We may eat dirt, but we will use our spit to draw with it. It's what we do.

Have a great Thursday.

Uzumaki; or, What I Must Do Before I Get to "Toos-day Afffffternnnoooooooooon, Toooos-day Afffterrnoooooooooooooon..."

(the above is to be sung, for all you Moody Blues fans.)

Today, monkey-boy Bissette begins his morning with a Center for Cartoon Studies graphic novel discussion, a now-venerable tradition instituted by the now-seniors and faculty Robyn Chapman. This is my first go at the process, which should go fine; I'll let you know if monkey-boy Bissette chi-chis out or spews chewed banana all over. Otherwise, this is likely all you'll hear about it from me for now, except to say I'm a huge fan of Junji Ito's horror manga and the complete (three volume) Uzumaki is among my favorite genre graphic novels -- right up there with From Hell and the innovative Marv Wolfman/Gene Colan/Tom Palmer Tomb of Dracula (graphic novel by proxy, founder of the form in the genre though it's a serialized periodical that became a graphic novel en route).

Monkey-boy Bissette prepped his Q&A sheet a couple of weeks ago, though monkey-boy had to borrow a copy of Uzumaki Vol. 1 from senior Caitlin Plovnick, since monkey-boy still has yet to unpack his manga because monkey-boy has too many manga and books and can't find his ass with a compass yet. Poor, poor monkey-boy; he owes Caitlin big-time.

Anyhoot, enough on monkey-boy, here's the scoop on the Uzumaki Q&A; see you tomorrow with livelier monkey-boy chatter! (PS: You'll have to go to amazon.com to 'look inside', though -- man, those used copies are dear now, aren't they?)

Study Guide for Uzumaki by Junji Ito
Discussion leader: Stephen R. Bissette
Discussion date: May 1

1. According to some, there are two kinds of fantasy: the marvelous, works set in wholly invented universes unconnected to our own reality and adhering to their own internal rules of logic, and the fantastique, in which the fantasy elements encroach, intrude upon (and in some cases transform) our known reality, either period or contemporary. Which genre would you place Uzumaki within, and does it function as horror rather than fantasy? If so, why? If not, why not?

2. Uzumaki is unique in that its central premise concerns a primal obsession with a geometric form -- the spiral -- and how this obsession impacts life in an isolated Japanese community. Can you think of any other works -- in comics, fiction, cinema or music -- concerned with primal obsessions with, and material manifestations of, a form or forms?

3. If you are familiar with either other horror manga (like Hino’s), or other horror manga by Junji Ito (Tomie, Museum of Horror, Gyo), how does his writing and art in Uzumaki work -- or not work -- for you? If you are not familiar with any of Ito’s other creations, or horror manga, what are your initial impressions of Ito’s work as a writer and as a cartoonist? What works for you? What doesn’t work for you?

4. Junji Ito’s horror manga are entirely set within contemporary Japan. How does Ito present life in the coastal village of Kurozu-cho, and the Kurozo High School? Did you find this setting convincing and evocative? If so, what worked? If not, what would you have needed changed (and are these changes reflective of differences between American and Japanese cultural norms)?

5. The teenage couple Kirie Goshima and her troubled boyfriend Shuichi Saito are the protagonists threading together the six chapters in this first (of three) volumes. How does Ito characterize them, and how is it different from how the victims of the spiral obsession(s) portrayed? Choose one chapter and discuss.

6. If you had to choose one key sequence in which the script and art worked in unison to create a powerful emotional effect, which would you choose and why?

7. There is a fine line in horror between the terrifying and the risible, the horrific and the humorous. Given the inherent absurdity of its premise, Uzumaki walks that tightrope throughout. Choose a sequence in which Ito “pushes the envelope” -- either in a way that was genuinely disturbing or horrific for you, or that became laughable. What works, what doesn’t work, and why?

8. The function of horror is in part to give shape to formless fears, to speak the unspeakable, to reveal the hidden. In Uzumaki, Ito gives shape to various fears specific to the lives of its teenage protagonists concerning the fragility and/or instability of their parents, their homes, their school, their community, their place within these. Pick a passage that addresses one of these issues, and discuss how it serves the specific chapter, and the story as a whole.

9. The mysterious spiral’s manifestations, distortions and mutations based upon more intimate, personalized obsessions and fears -- sexuality, attraction, blemishes, deformities, vanity, beauty, weight, etc. -- manifest symptoms recognizably derived from real life (e.g., bulimia) before they erupt into impossible extremes. The hideous logic of Uzumaki lies in part in the way the spirals make public such private fears: a central conceit in many nightmares. Choose a single sequence in any of the six chapters that marks the transition between a believable, “real” situation and the point at which it tips into the fantastique -- how does Ito stage this transition, as a writer, as an artist? Does it work for you? If so, how does it work? If not, why not?

10. Which manifestation of such intimate fears in these six chapters did you find the most personally affecting? Which did you find the least affecting? Why?


OK, I'll expect your writeups by this evening, no excuses!

BTW, Dave and Josh did a great job on the shelving yesterday -- I'll be happily racking books the rest of the