Wimbledon Green: The Greatest Comic Book Collector in the World (2005) by Seth

Wimbledon Green: The Greatest Comic Book Collector in the World (2005) by Seth: Canadian cartoonist/graphic novelist Seth (his pen-name, natch) spends a lot of space criticizing his own work here in both the Introduction and the Acknowledgements. It almost seems like a Mea Culpa for not sticking to serious and semi-comic explorations of his own life. I find it interesting because Wimbledon Green is the most engaging thing I've ever read from Seth!

Begun as a sort of time-wasting finger exercise, Wimbledon Green came to somewhat obsess Seth. It's a graphic novel told in semi-independent short pieces from a wide variety of points-of-view. All centre upon the mysterious Ontario comic-book collector Wimbledon Green and his shenangans (most of them oriented around finding and acquiring rare comic books) over the last half of the 20th century.

Seth simplifies his style here, pleasingly so. It suits the material, which spices up the weird world of comic-book collectors with intrigue, deadly rivalries, collectors with private train cars, and Wimbledon Green's own autogyro. Along the way, Ontario residents will notice some now-gone landmarks -- the late Golden Pheasant Motor Inn in London, Ontario, for one.

In a way, this is a tale that applies to all obsessive collectors. The rivalries just involve deadly battles. Or nearly deadly battles, anyway. Through it all runs the question of just who Wimbledon Green is. A fake name? A real man? What real man? That questions weaves in and out of various sub-plots involving the acquisition of legendary comic collections, comeuppance for legendary thieves from the collections of others, and various internecine struggles within the comic collecting community.

It's all great fun, with satiric stretches also devoted to (fictional) comic books and comic-book creators, and to the strange obsessions of Wimbledon Green himself. Things can get a little microscopic at times in this compact and handsome volume -- it really would be swell on much larger pages. 

Nonetheless, while Seth mocks the collectors, he also shows a great affection for them, and for comics in general. Most of the characters are fictional, though a few real comic shop owners do show up to share their stories of Wimbledon Green. Recommended.

Trench 11 (2017)

HERE

Captain Canuck Season 1: Aleph

Captain Canuck Season 1: Aleph (2015-2016): written by Kalman Andrasofszky with Jason Loo; illustrated by Kalman Andrasofszky, Leonard Kirk, Jason Loo, and Adam Gorham: Created by Richard Comely and Ron Leishman, Captain Canuck's first comic book appeared in 1975. This reboot's first issue arrived in 2015. 40 years!

The first storyline offers competent and sometimes inspired storytelling without throwing out the original series' idea that Canuck works for a non-partisan peace-keeping agency (here dubbed 'Equilibrium') or that Canuck tries to use non-lethal force when battling his foes. 

The comic also emphasizes the Captain's reliance on his team, with more focus on those coordinating things back at the Nunavut base and on fellow operative Kebec, now a female French-Canadian sharpshooter.

Kalman Andrasofszky offers a solid script and occasionally shaky but mostly solid art, with Leonard Kirk taking over art duties a couple of issues into the run. Kirk is also perfectly competent, though there are a few pages in which it's somewhat unclear what's happening in some panels, a problem that may lie at either the script or art level. I'd prefer sharper inking of both artists in the mode of classic X-Men Terry Austin on John Byrne. The story seems to cry out for a crisp line.

Many of the enjoyably wonky aspects of the original Captain Canuck return here, including super-villain Mr. Gold (now with vastly enhanced powers!) and the Captain's alien origin for his more-than-normal strength (a crashed UFO in the Arctic). This is still a comic of the moment, however, complete with an opening rescue mission/battle set in Alberta's tar sands.

Captain Canuck is his usual humble, hyper-competent self. His brother is now much more of a factor in the story, his motivations questionable for much of the book. Some of the back-and-forth between Canuck and the non-super-powered members of his tactical team recall Hellboy and the B.P.R.D.. And like Hellboy, Canuck really doesn't want to let people die, even his enemies. The Deadpool-like hilts on Cap's back aren't swords -- they're non-lethal Taser batons. Cap's major other power, besides enhanced but not ludicrous super-strength, is a personal force field. Yep. A CANADIAN SHIELD!!!

Well-played!

The back pages of the graphic collection reveal that Chapterhouse, the Captain's new publisher, has ambitious plans for him and a number of other Canadian superheroes new and old. None of these new books are out yet, however, though the creative teams for the books appear in the back of the volume. Too ambitious? We'll see. 

Shared universes are fine, but it's good to get the first book off the ground, and promptly, before plotting out a whole group of interconnected titles. While the second story-line (Season 2) of Captain Canuck has begun in the 'floppies.'* it has been two years between series and counting.

But I hope Captain Canuck, at least, is a success. Chapterhouse may be too ambitious, but at least it has a comic-book-loving Canadian celebrity as its front man (Jay Baruchel). Recommended.


* Traditional 32-page comic books.

Nelvana of the Northern Lights

Nelvana of the Northern Lights (1940-1947/ This edition 2014): edited by Hope Nicholson and Rachel Richey; story and art credited to Adrian Dingle: War-time importation restrictions left Canada without American comic books for six years. In their place rose "the Canadian whites," mostly black-and-white comic books that offered the same sort of superheroes and action heroes seen in the American comics of the time. 

The "Whites" would die off quickly once American comics returned to post-war Canada, killed by economies of scale. But Nelvana would live on in the memory of some, to the extent that the Canadian animation studio founded in the late 1970's took its name from her.

Who is Nelvana of the Northern Lights? Well, the daughter of a god of the Inuit, loosely based on actual myth. For an Inuit goddess, she looks a lot like a Caucasian movie star of the 1940's. Her brother looks even more Caucasian, even Aryan, and his ability to transform into a magical Great Dane seems mighty peculiar for the Canadian North. What, no Husky?

Nelvana predates Wonder Woman as a female superhero and post-dates some forgotten American female costume crimefighters. When the series begins, Nelvana protects the interests of the Inuit from a mythical invading nation that seems to be an odd combination of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. Change came quickly to all superheroes in the 1940's, Canadian or American. Soon, Nelvana fights the Axis along Canadian soldiers and RCMP officers. 

But she also fights lost civilizations hidden beneath the Arctic Ice and, once the war is over, an invasion of Radio-men from the Ether. And there the stories end.

Adrian Dingle was certainly the equal of most American superhero chroniclers of his time, and superior to many. There's a pleasing touch of Noel Sickles and Milton Caniff to his art, and the stories themselves move at breakneck speed. They have to. They're generally less than 10 pages long. Nelvana mostly handles things herself with an ever-changing array of powers, her male companions mostly forgettable. 

Hope Nicholson and Rachel Richey should be thanked for bringing back the complete adventures of Nelvana in this labour of love. A Table of Contents that cited the specific issues and publication dates for each story would improve the volume, but that's mainly an academic quibble. Kudos. Highly recommended.

Haunted Toronto in the Me Decade

The Rosedale Horror (1980) by Jon Ruddy: This Canadian paperback original from defunct Canadian paperback imprint Paperjacks is shocking in its goodness. It's a haunted-house story with a twist, set in Toronto's tony Rosedale neighbourhood in 1974. Ruddy was a long-time newspaper reporter, and it shows: he grounds all the horror elements in detailed, specific, and often quite funny and illuminating glimpses of life at a failing Toronto newspaper in the 1970's. 

The specifics of newspaper work on a variety of fronts from daily news columnist to police reporter to freelance writer give the proceedings a real verisimilitude. That the book is often scathingly funny about life at a tabloid and about Toronto the Good really helps things.

Ruddy also carries off a difficult bit of structure. The Rosedale Horror is told in six sections, each focused in the third-person on a specific character, though there is also some first-person narration by way of a tape recorder. And it all works both as characterization and as a builder of suspense.

There are elements in the text which at times seem sexist. Some of them fall into the realm of a sort of R-rated Leacockian satire directed at certain men and women alike, including a female relationship columnist and a male news columnist. Ultimately, the novel isn't sexist, though some of its characters are sexist and, in a couple of cases, somewhat predatory.

Ruddy manages several scenes of horror shot through with the occasional bit of grotesque humour. That tape-recorded first-person monologue is one of the two deftest bits of horror, revealing gradually a mind both ill and toxically malign. A rape scene also manages to horrify without seeming exploitative -- no small feat in any novel, and Ruddy amplifies the effect by having the rapist himself under the malign mental influence of something awful.

The Rosedale Horror certainly has its pulpy elements, but they never undercut the horror and the comedic in Ruddy's novel. As both horror and pointed, satiric social commentary, The Rosedale Horror is far superior to many, many novels I've read by far more celebrated authors. It's also hard to go wrong with a novel in which a character is murdered by being telepathically forced to urinate on the third rail of the Toronto subway line. Recommended.

Theory of a Dead Man

The Bat (Harry Hole #1) (1997/ Engish translation 2015) by Jo Nesbo, translated into English by Don Bartlett: The first of Jo Nesbo's Harry Hole series about a Norwegian police detective wasn't released in English until after several other Hole mysteries were.  That's probably because this mystery/thriller occurs in Australia, where Hole has been sent to liase with Sydney police as they investigate the murder of a young Norwegian woman.

The great thing about the early goings-on in The Bat involve the revelation of the pronunciation of Harry's last name. Thank god for Australia, I say! It's supposed to be pronounced 'Hoo-lay' but the Australians keep calling him Harry Holy, both of which are preferable (to Harry and to me) to how his last name looks like it should be pronounced.

There's a pretty good whodunnit-and-why in The Bat, occasionally drowned out by Nesbo's attempts to hit every quadrant (or whatever) of commercial appeal, including a climactic scene that seems to be aimed straight at movie adaptation. And that scene is completely ridiculous. So, too, a plan put in place to catch the killer by Harry and the Australian police that's unforgivably stupid and stupidly implemented. I didn't believe it for a second, and neither should you.

We also get a lot of back-story for Harry and his alcoholic ways, a tour through some interesting Australian locales, a bit too much mystical-native stuff that verges at points on turning into a version of America's much-maligned 'Magical Negro' trope, and a not-entirely-believable serial killer. It's a fast-paced, enjoyable read, but one will pine for the Fjords by the time the climax arrives. Are there fjords in Norway? Well, whatever. Harry Hole is a cold-weather animal. Lightly recommended.

Foundation (1942-1951/Collected 1951) by Isaac Asimov: The first Foundation novel (it's really a paste-up of novellas and novelettes) was written by Isaac Asimov between the ages of 22 and 24, with the exception of the opening story, written specifically for Foundation's first book publication in 1951. It holds up beautifully today as a tale of the far future modeled explicitly by Asimov on the Roman Empire as imagined in Edward Gibbons' late-18th-century historical work, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 

What Asimov helped to give to science fiction in the original Foundation trilogy was space opera without the opera. Instead, Asimov re-imagined all the space empires and clashing worlds that had been a fixture of science fiction from the late 1920's onwards in American pulp magazines. The precocious Asimov instead made his space opera into a Novel of Ideas.

Asimov also gave the world Psychohistory, the backbone of the Foundation series. Perfected by super-historian Hari Seldon, Psychohistory allowed Seldon to plot the future dynamic of the dying Galactic Empire so as to allow members of the two Foundation institutes to shorten the post-Imperial galactic Dark Age from tens of thousands of years to only a thousand. 

So the Foundation series generally works with a group hero, embodied in one or a handful of people in each section, as it jumps decades or even hundreds of years forward in each section. Sometimes the recorded hologram of Seldon shows up at various crisis points to offer suggestions to the Foundation members. Sometimes they figure out the crisis point themselves.

It's all handled with a minimum of violence, bloodshed, and Star Wars stuff. Most of the Foundation series involves dialogue and historical theorizing. Asimov and American science fiction were both young, which leads to the occasional exclamation of "Great galloping galaxies!". But the overall approach is cerebral and humanistic. 

Along the way, Asimov also gives us entries from his Encyclopedia Galactica, forebear of so many similar volumes in science fiction. And there's religion as an intentional instrument of state control, an idea that several of the writers who published in editor John W. Campbell's Astounding Magazine in the 1940's would tackle, writers that included Asimov, Robert Heinlein, Fritz Leiber, and A.E. Van Vogt.

Star Wars certainly borrows much of Asimov's set dressing (and more than one name) for its own Galactic Empire, framing them in a world mostly devoid of ideas, much less Ideas. This is the real deal, one that's sparked so many other writers to imagine their own galactic empires and their own millennia-long view of human history. Highly recommended.

Northern Frights 3 (1995): edited by Don Hutchison; contains the following stories:

Wild Things Live There by Michael Rowe
Silver Rings by Rick Hautala
A Debt Unpaid by Tanya Huff 
Imposter by Peter Sellers 
Exodus 22:18 by Nancy Baker 
The Suction Method by Rudy Kremberg 
Sasquatch by Mel D. Ames 
Grist for the Mills of Christmas by James Powell 
Tamar's Leather Pouch by David Shtogryn 
Snow Angel by Nancy Kilpatrick 
The Perseids by Robert Charles Wilson 
Widow's Walk by Carolyn Clink 
If You Know Where to Look by Chris Wiggins 
The Bleeding Tree by Sean Doolittle 
The Dead Go Shopping by Stephanie Bedwell-Grime 
Family Ties by Edo van Belkom 
The Pines by Tia V. Travis
The Summer Worms by David Nickle 


Solid third volume in Canada's Northern Frights series of mostly original anthologies has one moment of editorial fright early on -- not only is the Table of Contents regrettably centre-justified, but it lacks page numbers for the stories. What the H?

The stand-outs include "Wild Things Live There" by Michael Rowe, a dandy bit of horror that anticipates some of the horrors of Laird Barron's terrific series of stories about the Children of Old Leech while remaining steadfastly Canadian -- the story even involves a migration from Ontario to British Columbia by, well, some things. Oh, Canada!

Another fine story is "The Perseids" by Robert Charles Wilson. Wilson is known as a highly regarded Canadian writer of fairly 'hard' science fiction. Here, some of that scientific and astronomical 'hardness' is present in what is otherwise a subtle, unnerving piece of cosmic horror. Or at least cosmic weirdness.

"If You Know Where to Look" by Chris Wiggins is also a nice piece of dread set in the Maritimes and involving a Scottish legend that seems to have migrated to Nova Scotia along with the Scots. And yes, he's that Chris Wiggins, Canadian actor. And he really shows an ear for believable dialogue and dialect in this story.

None of the stories are duds, though there are a few bits of whimsy that don't work as horror, weird, or whimsy. Editor Don Hutchison does his normal good work, even without page numbers on that Table of Contents. Recommended.

The Past Isn't Even Past

Poppet (2013) by Mo Hayder: Mo Hayder's troubled, brilliant DCI Jack Caffery continues his Major Crimes work in Bristol in this satisfying horror-procedural. Caffery again and again finds himself investigating cases that seem to be just this side of the supernatural, and Poppet keeps that going. Caffery also has a couple of problems to deal with from previous novels, but these are explained well enough that one doesn't need to have read a previous Caffery novel to understand everything that goes on.

Hayder gives us multiple third-person limited narrative focuses for Poppet. The narrative is handled deftly (though Boy, are some of the chapters short!), with Caffery and mental-institution worker AJ being the main protagonists. AJ calls Caffery in when events at his privately funded institution seem to get dangerously weird. And they are dangerously weird, and have been intermittently for years.

Poppet does a number of things tremendously well. Foremost is its sensitive treatment of catastrophic mental-health issues both through the sympathetic, haunted AJ's interactions with his patients, and partially through Poppet's plot, which does not go where it seems to be going. Hayder should get some sort of prize for not giving us the same old mentally ill boogeymen and women, or for not simply dressing up yet another impossible Joker and unleashing him on her novel.

Terrible things do happen, and marvelous things, some of the latter verging on the supernatural without necessarily getting there. Throughout it all, Caffery -- isolated, alcoholic, workaholic -- holds himself together as he also strives to follow the labyrinthine thread to the truth. Highly recommended.

Hey Nostradamus! (2004) by Douglas Coupland:  So we have four narrators for the four sections of Hey Nostradamus!: Cheryl, Jason, Heather, and Reg.  They narrate their parts of the story in 1988, 1999, 2003, and 2004 respectively. Cheryl and Jason were high-school lovers in 1988. Heather is Jason's girlfriend in 2003. Reg is Jason's religious fanatic father. A horrific 1988 Vancouver high-school shooting which vaguely anticipates Columbine sets the narratives in motion.

Coupland's characterization of the four narrators is deft and sympathetic, or at least empathetic. The 1988 school shooting is portrayed with a mixture of horror, black comedy, and crazed heroism on the parts of some individuals, including Jason. The media frenzy afterwards, the desire to canonize some individuals, the problems of recovering from such things -- these are all marvelously conveyed.

Douglas Coupland doesn't always get his due as a major novelist because, like Kurt Vonnegut, his novels are so easy and natural to read that the whole thing can seem effortless. Perhaps even too entertaining. Perhaps, given the often bleak but also often laugh-out-loud comic touch Vonnegut and Coupland share, the novels can seem glib.

Hey Nostradamus! isn't glib. But it goes down so smoothly that one can perhaps be forgiven for finding it too entertaining to be taken as a serious novel. But it is serious. If there's closure, it's faint and conditional and human and humane. The plot takes turns at several points that are genuinely shocking in their unexpectedness, though they always remain this side of plausible. 

Morally, the novel suggests that moral or religious certainty, the certainty of absolutism, can be horrifyingly toxic. It also suggests that people can change, but not always, and not always in time for that change to be meaningful to those for whom one changed. All this comes in that compulsively readable Coupland manner, funny and witty and floating on a vast ocean of sadness. Highly recommended.

Staying Home

Still Mine: written and directed by Michael McGowan; starring James Cromwell (Craig Morrison), Genevieve Bujold (Irene Morrison), Campbell Scott (Gary Fulton), and George R. Robertson (Chester) (2012): Based on a true story of frustrating governmental bureaucracy in New Brunswick (Canada), Still Mine follows octogenarian James Cromwell's attempts to build a new, one-story home on his own property so as to make caring for his Alzheimer's-stricken wife (Genevieve Bujold) workable. If some of the bureaucratic stuff seems fictional, take note that the real-life struggle was actually more arduous.

Cromwell, a veteran character actor probably best known as the farmer in Babe and Zefrem Cochrane in Star Trek: First Contact, does marvelous work here. In an American movie with a big enough name director, it's the sort of acting that gets an Oscar nomination. Bujold is also excellent, underplaying her descent into greater and greater silence and confusion. In her case, she's not showy enough for an Oscar nomination.

The movie could have devoted a few more minutes to the specifics of the bureaucratic hoops Cromwell keeps getting forced to jump through -- this is a relatively rare case in which exposition would help the dramatic elements. Nonetheless, the film is beautifully shot in both its long looks at landscapes and beaches and the passing of the seasons, and in recurring extreme close-ups of things one doesn't generally see in Hollywood movies -- which is to say, old faces and old bodies.

The supporting cast, mostly unknown with the exception of Campbell Scott, is excellent, low-key, and real-looking. One doesn't realize how unreal the casts of even the most serious of American dramas look until one sees people who look real, whether in independent movies or even in Hollywood movies made prior to the 1990's, when our genetically engineered overlords seized control of most mass-market movies and TV shows. Highly recommended.

Captain Canuck!

Captain Canuck: The Complete Edition: written by Richard Comely and George Freeman; illustrated by George Freeman, Richard Comely, and J.C. St-Aubin; Captain Canuck created by Ron Leishman and Richard Comely (1975-1981; collected 2011): Canadian superhero Captain Canuck originally appeared in 1975. He would ultimately star in about 15 issues of his own comic book before finally vanishing in the early 1980's; later, there would be revivals, but this volume collects that first run.

Richard Comely would write and draw the first published adventures of Canuck. In those issues we met a hero who'd gained super-strength from an encounter with mysterious aliens. As he was a Mountie at the time, he would end up becoming a sort of super-Mountie for the growing world power that was Canada in the far-flung future of...the mid-1990's!

OK, so the book got technological and social changes really, really, really wrong. So it goes.

Comely was (and still is, I believe) a One-World Conspiracy adherent, and some of that creeps into the pages of Canuck (though not nearly as much as it did into another Comely project from the same time, Star Rider and the Peace Machine). For the most part, though, the book sticks to superheroics, often in vaguely James-Bond-like situations in the first few issues.

Where Captain Canuck really takes off is with the addition of writer/artist/colourist George Freeman and artist/colourist J.C. St-Aubin to the creative team. The colouring on Captain Canuck was markedly better than the mainstream offerings of DC and Marvel right from the start; Freeman and St-Aubin would make the book look remarkably good from a production standpoint. Freeman was also a much better, cleaner cartoonist than Comely.

By issue 9 or so, Captain Canuck looked great, and the stories had begun to flow more smoothly -- and to 'pop' as well with odd situations and characters. Not many comic books in any time period would have had the desire and the skilful creators to pull off an homage to (Canadian) Hal Foster's Prince Valiant; Captain Canuck does.

All things end, of course, and given the difficulty in securing adequate distribution, Captain Canuck was probably always doomed -- especially in a world in which comic shops were just starting to become the primary means of comic-book distribution. The book ends on a cliffhanger. So it goes. Recommended.

Ode on the Mammoth Cheese (Weight over seven thousand pounds)

In honour of Father's Day, possibly the worst poem ever written -- "Ode on the Mammoth Cheese" by 19th-century Ingersoll, Ontario, Canada poet James McIntyre. Enjoy!

Ode on the Mammoth Cheese

by James McIntyre (Poem composed 1866-67)

Weight over seven thousand pounds.

We have seen thee, queen of cheese,
Lying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze,
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the great Provincial show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.

Cows numerous as a swarm of bees,
Or as the leaves upon the trees,
It did require to make thee please.
And stand unrivalled, queen of cheese.

May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to to send you off as far as
The great world's show at Paris.

Of the youth beware of these,
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek, then songs or glees
We could not sing, oh! queen of cheese.

We'rt thou suspended from balloon,
You'd cast a shade even at noon,
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.