An emotional, beautifully crafted odyssey that not only utilizes but transcends both navel-gazing self-discovery and...

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LA PERDIDA

Nice Chicago girl goes to Mexico City and ends up with far more than she can handle.

Abel has been one of the leaders of the indie comics scene for several years, from her occasional “Artbabe” comics to her graphics journalism. She’s best known—and rightly so—for her five-part “La Perdida” series from Fantagraphics, reproduced here in a single volume. The book itself is an assured piece of work, somewhat autobiographical though never cloyingly so, that owes a large debt to the work of Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez (Love and Rockets, not reviewed). Abel’s heroine Carla is a half-Mexican young woman from Chicago who moves to Mexico City to hang with her occasional boyfriend Harry—an arrogant trustafarian with a Burroughs and Kerouac fetish—and figure out what to do with her life. She doesn’t have much direction, and grates at the closed-off manner of Harry’s Caucasian expat friends, whom she derides as hardly knowing any natives of the country they live in (though most of them speak better Spanish than she). The naive Carla falls in with a pair of obnoxious locals she angrily defends to her steadily shrinking circle of acquaintances. Both these guys—her boyfriend Oscar, a clueless pot dealer who dreams of being a deejay, and Memo, an acerbic pseudo-Marxist who spouts anti-American rhetoric when not trying to seduce blonde tourists—are trouble, and the reader knows what’s coming well before Carla does. The author gets by without worrying too much about plot, content with tracking Carla’s increasing self-righteousness and steady deterioration as all the insecurities she wanted to leave behind come bubbling back up in this country that remains stubbornly foreign. When the story takes a stunning turn near the end, it seems less an effort to find a dramatic conclusion than the inevitable result of Carla’s northern naïveté.

An emotional, beautifully crafted odyssey that not only utilizes but transcends both navel-gazing self-discovery and backpackers-in-peril clichés.

Pub Date: March 7, 2006

ISBN: 0-375-42365-6

Page Count: 272

Publisher: Pantheon

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2006

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A not-very-illuminating updating of Chaucer’s Tales.

THE CANTERBURY TALES

A RETELLING

Continuing his apparent mission to refract the whole of English culture and history through his personal lens, Ackroyd (Thames: The Biography, 2008, etc.) offers an all-prose rendering of Chaucer’s mixed-media masterpiece.

While Burton Raffel’s modern English version of The Canterbury Tales (2008) was unabridged, Ackroyd omits both “The Tale of Melibee” and “The Parson’s Tale” on the undoubtedly correct assumption that these “standard narratives of pious exposition” hold little interest for contemporary readers. Dialing down the piety, the author dials up the raunch, freely tossing about the F-bomb and Anglo-Saxon words for various body parts that Chaucer prudently described in Latin. Since “The Wife of Bath’s Tale” and “The Miller’s Tale,” for example, are both decidedly earthy in Middle English, the interpolated obscenities seem unnecessary as well as jarringly anachronistic. And it’s anyone’s guess why Ackroyd feels obliged redundantly to include the original titles (“Here bigynneth the Squieres Tales,” etc.) directly underneath the new ones (“The Squires Tale,” etc.); these one-line blasts of antique spelling and diction remind us what we’re missing without adding anything in the way of comprehension. The author’s other peculiar choice is to occasionally interject first-person comments by the narrator where none exist in the original, such as, “He asked me about myself then—where I had come from, where I had been—but I quickly turned the conversation to another course.” There seems to be no reason for these arbitrary elaborations, which muffle the impact of those rare times in the original when Chaucer directly addresses the reader. Such quibbles would perhaps be unfair if Ackroyd were retelling some obscure gem of Old English, but they loom larger with Chaucer because there are many modern versions of The Canterbury Tales. Raffel’s rendering captured a lot more of the poetry, while doing as good a job as Ackroyd with the vigorous prose.

A not-very-illuminating updating of Chaucer’s Tales.

Pub Date: Nov. 16, 2009

ISBN: 978-0-670-02122-2

Page Count: 436

Publisher: Viking

Review Posted Online: May 20, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2009

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Rich, creamy art and playful paneling make for a fun read.

THE GIGANTIC BEARD THAT WAS EVIL

Cartoonist Collins’ debut graphic novel is a long, smooth fable of a man whose unkempt facial hair ravages the tidy city of Here.

Here sits on an island, surrounded by the sea, separated from the far-off land of There. And whereas Here is all row houses and trimmed trees and clean cheeks, There is a dark, disordered place that would mix your insides with your outsides, your befores with your nows with your nexts—unpleasant business brilliantly depicted in panels breaking across a single body as it succumbs to chaos. So the people of Here live quiet, fastidious lives, their backs to the sea, and neighbor Dave delights in doodling it all from his window as he listens to the Bangles’ “Eternal Flame” on repeat. But an irregular report at his inscrutable office job triggers the single hair that has always curved from Dave’s upper lip to be suddenly joined by a burst of follicles. Try as Dave might, his unruly beard won’t stop pouring from his face in a tangled flood—and soon it threatens the very fabric of life in Here. Collins’ illustrations are lush, rounded affairs with voluptuous shading across oblong planes. Expressions pop, from the severe upturn where a sympathetic psychiatrist’s brows meet to the befuddlement of a schoolgirl as the beard’s hypnotic powers take hold. With its archetypical conflict and deliberate dissection of language, the story seems aimed at delivering a moral, but the tale ultimately throws its aesthetics into abstraction rather than didacticism. The result rings a little hollow but goes down smooth.

Rich, creamy art and playful paneling make for a fun read.

Pub Date: Oct. 7, 2014

ISBN: 978-1-250-05039-7

Page Count: 240

Publisher: Picador

Review Posted Online: Aug. 24, 2014

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2014

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