Ladies and gentlemen of the webcomic reading society, we live in cynical times. What’s up is down. What’s left is right. Boys are becoming men. Men are becoming wolves. It’s in an uncertain world like ours that you have to sit down and ask yourself, “What would Gronk do?”
Through its relatively short lifespan as a genre, webcomics have proved they can do things just as good as any other form of media can. They can make you laugh. They can make you cry. They can make you poo your pants when you get a surprise animation of a creepy anime zombie girl. They can make you find the goodness in humanity through the flooded streets of New Orleans, and they can make you feel the frustration of trying to find a loved one in Iran.
And, yes, webcomics can teach. Moreso, I suspect, than conventional print comics can. There are a lot of webcomic creators out there — such as Kate Beaton and Randall Munroe — that actually respect the intelligence of their readers. They’ll give you a set up using an obscure historical figure or an advanced calculus mathematical equation and trust that you’ll laugh even if you don’t get it at first, and that you’ll do more research if the subject piqued your interest.
Take, for example, Sydney Padua’s 2D Goggles (subtitled The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage), a webcomic about two historical characters that I hadn’t thought about since my high school BASIC programming class.
There are two ends of the reviewing spectrum that make me a bit nervous. The first, as I mentioned in the previous review, is when a webcomic looks so amateur that you’re a bit hesitant to talk about it.
Then there’s the opposite end of the spectrum. Sometimes a webcomic is so polished that you’re sort of taken aback by how good it looks. “Wait,” I say, “is this even a webcomic, technically? I’m pretty sure this was always meant to go straight to print.” I’m not slamming the art in webcomics, by the way, which can be quite stunning. However, most have a distinctly non-commercial flavor, where the art is geared close to the heart of the creator. I’m talking about comics that seem so ready for prime time that you’re surprised that there isn’t already an animated adaptation airing on Cartoon Network with a live-action movie deal in the works.
That’s how I feel when I read Tony Cliff’s Delilah Dirk and the Turkish Lieutenant (not to be confused with Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch), a webcomic about swashbuckling adventure in the 1800′s.
“But wait, El Santo,” you say. “Aren’t you taking a break?”
I know. I’ve got to admit something to you: I’m terrible at this whole taking a break thing. And the worst part of it is… I’m breaking hiatus for something that is not, technically, a webcomic.
Twins Peter and Bobby Timony’s The Night Owls is, in fact, closer to being on the digital comic side of the scale than on the webcomic side. It could have been considered a webcomic when Zuda was around. But then Zuda died, a good number of my Zuda-only webcomic blogger compatriots disappeared, and the remaining Zuda issues have been banished to the nether realms of Comixology.
If you want to read The Night Owls anymore, you must download it for $0.99 an issue … though the first issue is free. The Night Owls has since ended, capping off at 9 issues, so a full run of The Night Owls is going to cost you $8 (and a bit more more if you’re going to spring for the print version on Amazon).
I suppose a site called “The Webcomic Overlook” should probably let this one go… but then who would review it? From my experience, most sites reviewing digital comics are focusing on much the same things as their print comic sites … namely DC’s New 52 initiative.
The artwork for Gigi Digi’s Cucumber Quest is so adorable that you start to wonder why this isn’t a webcomic that has a hundred different kinds of t-shirts on display in its virtual storefront. In an alternate universe, shirts sporting different kinds of Cucumber Quest characters would be seen on the racks at the local Fuego, on iPad slipcases, on backpacks, wallets, and purses, and on a baby’s disposable diapers. Cucumber Quest characters would give Hello Kitty and My Little Pony a run for their money.
Cucumber Quest is filled with cute rabbits with big fuzzy faces and rounded ears. Ms. Digi’s art makes you just want to cradle their soft, huggable heads of our two principle characters, Cucumber and Almond. You want to nuzzle their hair affectionately, which no doubt carries the refreshing fragrance of fresh cut vegetables or the faint sweetness of roasted nuts. Ms. Digi doesn’t ink the outlines and renders her characters in soft tones and brush strokes (or whatever passes for brushstrokes in the computer art world), which increases the adorability by a factor of squee.
Some cute touches slip your attention initially, but when you catch on, you can’t help but smile. One character named Carrot, for example, has hair that’s bundled up to look like carrots. Cute! But then you notice that another character named Dame Lettuce has lovely locks that look like lettuce leaves. And then you notice Sir Bacon’s coiffure, which looks like little strips of everybody’s favorite savory breakfast. The visual and verbal cues engages senses beyond the visual. It’s hard to see and read about Sir Bacon without also imagining the smoky, alluring aroma of sizzling pork fat. In a way, the food’s characteristics subliminally add to his personality.
Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound! Look up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Malaak: Angel of Peace!
*cue heroic sounding music*
Yes, it’s Malaak, strange visitor from deep in the forests who came to the city with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal women! And who, disguised as a student at a great metropolitan university, fights a never ending battle for truth, justice, and the Lebanese way!
Malaak was created by Joumana Medlej, a Lebanese illustrator. She has done drawings for children’s books, specifically a Lebanese heritage series. In her FAQ, she descibes Malaak as “Lebanon’s first and only superhero or adventure full-length series.” This comic is similarly aimed at readers who are typically younger than the current American fanboy crowd … that is, younger than 30, at least.
Winter ended two months ago. In Seattle, that means that it rains less than it normally does. (Like, six days a week instead of seven.) Around the time between spring and fall, I get a little eco-conscious, take my bike out of the corner of the garage, and try to bike to work for at least three out of the five work days. I was riding an old Diamondback earlier this year, one that I’d modified for road use.
On my way to work one day, I had to stop at a red light where I had to turn left. Trying to show some courtesy to the cars behind me, I pulled off to the side of the road to let them pass, after which I would follow from behind. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I’d pulled off to the side of the road, the guy driving the car behind me pulled right next, honked the horn angrily, and then flipped the bird before peeling off.
Now, if you’ve ever ridding a bike on city streets, I’m sure that, at this point, you’re nodding your head and commiserating.
There is no love lost between cyclists and auto drivers here in the fair city of Seattle. Mayor McGinn in an active advocate of biking, and it’s been causing friction on all sides. A recent hiring for a bike advocacy position caused a huge stir in the media. A recent piece in the Seattle PI on replacing storm grates hazardous to cyclists drew several angry comments that the money could have been put to better use if the Mayor wasn’t such a … if you pardon the expression … such a cyclist.
And then there’s the democratic response. There are plenty of blogs out there that defend the pro-cycling position. What you might not know is there’s a cycling webcomic out there, too. Today, I’m reviewing Rick Smith’s “slice of cycling life” webcomic, Yehuda Moon and the Kickstand Cyclery.
