by Rob Jackson, Francesca Cassavetti, Dave Hughes, Ant Mercer, Jarod Rosello, Lee Johnson, and Simon M.

Self Published

Another anthology title – this one masterminded by Rob Jackson, artist behind Great Deeds Against The Dead and Bog Wizards, and who already has one good anthology under his belt with the Pasty Anthology. Gin Palace features a few names you may already be familiar with from the FPI blog and a few lesser known artists. Although Jackson says there’s no theme to Gin Palace, many of the artists involved have taken the idea of the title and produced alcohol related stories (hmmm, comic creators and alcohol – who would have thought it eh?).

The main problem with Gin Palace is the length of many of the strips; they’re just a little too short for their subject matter – 2 or 3 pages may be enough for a quick, funny gag strip, but anything else really does need a few more pages.

Jackson’s tale; “The Ballad Of Hatty Jack” is a silly, slightly surreal romp through Victorian England where the hat really does make the man, and there are few hats bigger than Hatty Jack, an accidental crimefighter. There’s fun to be had playing on the Victorian setting, chance for Jackson to put a lot of funny incidental jokes into his pages and the inclusion of Sherlock Holmes was a fine, fine touch -

“call himself Murdock Bones … it’s amazing the amount of laudanum he puts away. Wears a fake beard and glasses and a fake nose …. always covered in make up to make himself look dirty .. dresses like an actor who is playing a tramp”

(A city of hats, Murgatroyd & Urchins Ye Olde Laudanum Shop – all part of the rich comedy vein running through Rob Jackson’s Hatty Jack – from The Gin Palace anthology.)

Then there’s Francesca Cassavetti’s 8 page strip: “Measuring Up“. As with pretty much everything of Cassavetti’s that I’ve seen there’s a delightful lightness of touch in both the sentimental, nostalgic story and her rounded, flowing artwork. From childhood to adulthood Cassavetti reminisces over her relationship with alcohol with some typically honest moments that  many of us will recognise.

(Francesca Cassavetti’s first memories of drink, gentle, comforting sentimental stuff – but beautifully done. From The Gin Palace anthology.)

But it’s Dave Hughes, whose previous “Thomas Wogan Is Dead” was reviewed and thoroughly enjoyed here, who really impresses with his stupid but fun science story about a scientific experiment gone awry; “Little Scary Monsters“. Somewhere between Thomas Wogan and now, his style has really sharpened up, his lines are tighter and the whole 5 pages just look really, really good. Noticeably he’s also sticking with the computer font, developed for the reissue of Thomas Wogan from Tabella Press. And it does help to make his strip look far more polished and professional than everything else in Gin Palace. An insignificant thing perhaps and no amount of good lettering will help a bad strip, but when applied to something good like Dave Hughes, it just adds another level of surface polish.

(Recreating Miller and Urey’s famous experiment to create amino acids and generate the basic building blocks of life – although they never reported little scary monsters as a by-product. Maybe they had a secret room full of them? Dave Hughes art from The Gin Palace anthology.)

And after those three strips, Gin Palace is full of decent, but relatively inconsequential strips, short on page count and struggling to be anything more than enjoyable diversions:

Ant Mercer’s “Interview” is a slight two pager on how not to interview for a new job – handy hints; don’t use the phrase “Ladies. I. Am. The. Shit“, don’t swallow a spider and whatever you do, definitely don’t throw up on the desk. There’s another single page word gag later on with “Kennedy“, and both made me think that Mercer’s style looks nice, but there’s just not enough here to really see.

Simon M gives us “In The Gin Palace“, a well drawn three pager on the frustrations of trying to get a drink in a crowded bar. It’s too short, but shows great promise, a lovely cartooning style and beautifully constructed flowing panels:

(Simon M – In The Gin Palace, from the Gin Palace anthology.)

“Rain” by Jared Rosello is another short strip at just 3 pages, but it does work as it’s merely a quick, wordless one idea gag with some great cartooning. Rosello’s a new name to me but I can’t help but think I’ve seen his stuff somewhere else, either that or I’ve seen the style before – who am I thinking he’s drawing like? Answers in the comments please.

(Jarod Rosello  – The Rain, from the Gin Palace anthology.)

Gin Palace ends with the weakest of the lot; Lee Johnson’s “Sin Cat” which certainly isn’t helped by a few layout and technical problems which offsets some of the pages and cuts tops and bottoms of pages off. It doesn’t make it unreadable, but it doesn’t do anything to help. The strip itself is trying too hard to be radical and different and would have been better served by tightening up both narrative and art.

All said, Gin Palace is good, but not excellent. With the likes of Solipsistic Pop and Birdsong already out recently, it’s just that little bit off the pace. There’s just not enough meat on it’s bones and no matter how good the strips are, especially the three by Jackson, Cassavetti and Hughes, the majority of what’s on offer is just that little  bit too slight, that little bit too forgettable. Having said that, Rosello and Simon M. are two I’d very much like to see more of.

Gin Palace is available from Rob Jackson, priced £2.50 at his website.

by David Hughes

Jonathan Cape

David Hughes is too close to fifty, out of shape, drinking way too much and really needs to get out and take some exercise. At least that’s what his doctor tells him, Hughes isn’t so convinced. But his family come up with a perfect Christmas present in the shape of Dexter, a wire-haired Fox Terrier and the idea was that the daily walks would accomplish just what the doctor had ordered.

But they may not have considered that the dog walking may have triggered something else in Hughes and Walking The Dog, this huge graphic novel, is the result.

(Hughes’ visits to the doctors, just one of a series of framing devices used throughout Walking The Dog. Published by Jonathan Cape, © David Hughes)

We join man and dog on their daily walks, with Hughes venting along the way about all manner of life’s annoyances and documenting all of the disconnected thoughts that occur when the mind is allowed to wander (and always carrying that ubiquitous accessory of the modern dog owner; the lovely plastic poo-bag). It’s full of delightful, bizarre introspection and prone to wandering off as stray thoughts and stray dogs often do. We get to meet the other dog-walkers, the joggers, the morning strollers and the passers-by, most of whom seem fascinated by Dexter, even if they can’t quite get his name right:

(“What’s his name?” “Dexter” “Hello Hector” “Hello Chester” “Hello Fester”. The conversations you can have whilst out walking the dog. Walking The Dog published by Jonathan Cape,© David Hughes )

And it progresses like this for quite a while; dog walking, doctor’s visits, thinking, reflecting, dog walking, meeting people, more dog walking. And it’s fascinating, wonderful stuff, handled with a lightness and jocularity that means pages just breeze gently by.

There’s a playful lack of structure in Walking The Dog that works beautifully well in these early stages, both in the art and the narrative. Hughes’ artistic style lends itself remarkably well to the tale, all simple, scratchy and inventive lines, exaggerated figurative work as people and features morph from grotesque to childlike forms within a few moments. There’s a clever use of the page and the horizontal panel to create a sense of never-ending motion as Hughes stretches the work across both pages, allowing we the reader to share in the extended walks and thoughts that Hughes is detailing.

(A perfect example of Hughes really using the page well to create that never-ending sense of travel with his dog, plastic poo sack in hand. Walking The Dog published by Jonathan Cape,© David Hughes )

But after the lightness of the first movement, Hughes moves on to darker things, all triggered by the introduction of Hughes’ alter ego, John Crawford. He’s also walking his dog, but this alter ego allows Hughes to veer off and begin documenting his fantasies and obsessions; dark disturbing fantasies involving murder, death and much more. And in adopting an alter ego Hughes then starts playing fast and loose with his characters, his narrative and his artwork, everything gets very complicated, fragmented and complex very quickly from this point in.

(Enter John Crawford, Hughes’ alter-ego. From Walking The Dog published by Jonathan Cape,© David Hughes )

And to be honest, very quickly it all becomes a little too much; the lack of structure, so endearing and intriguing early on, simply becomes wearing and confusing. And after 150 or so pages of this I found that I’d completely lost patience and interest in whatever Hughes was trying to accomplish here, and once that happened I found myself trudging through the remainder of the book and finished with a sense of profound relief.

But on finishing Walking The Dog I started to wonder about what it was that I’d just read. I had a nagging feeling that I was actually missing something deeper and important that Hughes was trying to say about obsession and redemption.

So I read it again and didn’t get anything the second time either. And now I’m left questioning whether I read it right, which is a ridiculous position to be in. But the paranoia had kicked in at this point, particularly when the only other analysis of Walking The Dog that I could find at the time of writing this was from Paul Gravett:

“I’m steadily savouring Hughes’ 304-page journey right now for review in the TLS. I’m already convinced that, while it may be published in the UK on New Year’s Eve, it will be one of the greatest graphic novels of 2010. As Jonathan Cape publisher Dan Franklin put it to me, this is “the Finnegan’s Wake of graphic novels.”

So, was I reading it wrong? Am I not smart enough to understand it? Or is it just one of those books that some will get and love and others, including me, will feel completely let down by? Or perhaps, just like Finnegan’s Wake, it’s something that skates the fine line between genius and utter drivel, something that few will ever understand and only slightly more will ever be able to get all the way through without throwing their hands up in frustration?

Perhaps it’s because of the nature of the author? Is it really and truly an artists book? I certainly can’t argue with it’s artistic merit; the styles and techniques are sometimes quite staggering to behold – although if I’m honest again, I found myself growing wearisome of the continual artsitic trickery and effects and many a time found myself wishing Hughes would just try to stick to one style for more than a few pages.

And am I going to be alone in wishing that Hughes had tried just that little bit harder to be a little more understandable, a little more cohesive and clearer in what he was going to say?

I’ve no doubt that a lot of people are going to disagree with me on this one (Paul Gravett for a start). And if you all want to point out to me how stupid I am that I didn’t get it, feel free. But all I can go by is my enjoyment of reading the book and that fizzled out around halfway through.

Richard Bruton.

by David Hughes

Tabella Publishing

Back in March 2009 I reviewed Thomas Wogan Is Dead as a self published comic (right here in fact). This Tabella version is effectively just a very nice re-packaging of the small press self published comic with a few extra pages and a general neatening up. So everything I said there applies here including this:

Thomas Wogan has had a  rather miserable and empty life. He’s a lonely soul whose days seem to consist of working a nothing job at Perriman Plastics in Chudley, perfecting his favourite meal of beans on toast (the perfect combination of sensation and nutrition, butter and Marmite, follow with fruit cocktail, tea and Baywatch before bed) and obsessively editing Delia Smith’s wikipedia entry. It’s not much of a life but it’s the only one he knows.

He finds himself sharing a waiting room with a cuckoo, a toad, an egg, a sea urchin, a bat, a fish and an LCD display with an incredibly large number that’s gradually counting up to the number on the ticket in Thomas’ hand. And since the book’s called Thomas Wogan Is Dead, we can assume that we know the answer to Thomas’ questions. But the far more interesting question, the one they all spend the rest of this the only question they all want to know is: what happened to you to get you here?

In the pages that follow every animal has their moment to reveal the manner of their demise ….. And in between it all, we get to find out a little more about Thomas’ life and the manner of his death. Just as pointless, tragic and faintly ridiculous as the rest of the creatures in the waiting room.

(The pertinant question and two nice examples of the art & snazzy new commercial font from Thomas Wogan Is Dead by David Hughes, Tabella Publishing)

This Tabella Publishing edition is a step up for Thomas Wogan – a spine and commercial lettering add a nice professional touch to the book. The art sits well in a more professional format, with all the grotesques of the original still there, and all of the sad, lonely existence of Thomas’ life portrayed just as well. The extra pages flesh out a little more of his life, and add to the sense of poignancy of the tale.

Thomas Wogan is still dead, but this new edition shows that there’s life in the comic still. I like it just as much as I did the first time around, except now, this better dressed, better presented Thomas Wogan is something I can sit on the shelf where it belongs.

Richard Bruton.