Book-It 'o12! Book #3
Jan. 20th, 2012 04:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alivemagdoleneThe Fifty Books Challenge, year three! (Years one, two, and three just in case you're curious.) This was a library request.
Title: The Beats: A Graphic History edited by Paul Buhle
Details: Copyright 2009, Hill and Wang
Synopsis (By Way of Front and Back Flaps): "In The Beats: A Graphic History, those who were mad to live have come back to life through artwork as vibrant as the Beat movement itself. Told by the comic legend Harvey Pekar, his frequent artistic collaborator Ed Piskor, and a range of artists and writers, including the feminist comic creator Trina Robbins and the Mad magazine artist Peter Kuper, The Beats takes us on a wild tour of a generation that, in the face of mainstream American conformity and conservatism, became known for its determined uprootedness, aggressive addictions, and startling creativity and experimentation.
What began among a small circle of friends in New York and San Francisco during the late 1940s and early 1950s laid the groundwork for a literary explosion, and this striking anthology captures the storied era in all its incarnations—from the Benzedrine-fueled antics of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs to the painting sessions of Jay DeFeo’s disheveled studio, from the jazz hipsters to the beatnik chicks, from Chicago’s College of Complexes to San Francisco’s famed City Lights bookstore. Snapshots of lesser-known poets and writers sit alongside frank and compelling looks at the Beats’ most recognizable faces. What emerges is a brilliant collage of—and tribute to—a generation, in a form and style that is as original as its subject."
Why I Wanted to Read It: This popped up during a souring of my local libraries "graphic novel" offerings. I saw the name "Trina Robbins" and my heart soared.
How I Liked It: I've now read some of Harvey Pekar's work, and thus familiarized myself with Ed Piskor's as an illustrator. I'm not really much of a fan of Pekar, but he's enjoyable enough. The same can't be said for Piskor's style of illustration, which manages to be both lazy (the famous characters' faces seem to run together) as well as stock-ugly (pimples abound on naked body parts, blackheads/pockmarks dot just about every nose, and nearly every female has a shriek-prone drawn mouth and razor nails).
In this particular volume, Pekar's text alongside Piskor's work make up unfortunately more than roughly two thirds of the book. Pekar's text is static; it reads almost like a textbook, or perhaps an overly dry lecture, and the narrative flow is out and out lost. While in one panel (of the entire Pekar/Piskor section) Pekar himself is seen narrating ala American Splendor, the section for the most part looks like hasty, clumsy, and wholly unnecessary illustration running alongside boring, flatly didactic text. I can't help but wonder if this section would've been different if Pekar would've taken the narrative route ala The Influencing Machine: Brooke Gladstone on the Media, where Gladstone was freely telling true stories but depicted as walking alongside them, and never losing you. This story is like an inside joke that's not all that funny or clever anyway.
The book entire's saving grace is the non Pekar/Piskar collaboration portion, which is shamefully short. The stories, both in text and in illustration, are forgettable (but still leaps and bounds better than the Pekar/Piskar section) to amazing. Pekar does write several of the other stories, but we're at least spared the ugly lines of Piskar for awhile. Two stories have staggering art but boring text: one is a Pekar narration and the other an admirable illustration to quotes from a 1997 collection of Beat writings (From Bughouse Square To The Beat Generation: Selected Ravings Of Slim Brundage - Founder & Janitor Of The College Of Complexes). To be fair, the former's authors (Pekar and artist Mary Fleener) created the story to work together and only the illustration is notable. The story done to quotes is working with a "stand-alone" medium (meaning it's from a book that didn't allot for illustration), so it's distracting.
Trina Robbins's contribution is as an author of one of the better stories, "The Rose", about painter Jay Defeo's most famous work. While her pacing and storytelling are excellent, the artist's style (sort of in the vein of Apartment 3-G or Mary Worth) is so antiquated, it hinders the story: in 2009, we know that style isn't de rigueur for story-telling, so it comes across as an odd, almost camp choice to pair with Robbins's words.
Probably the best story in the collection and certainly one that seems to genuinely educate about the Beats in a relatable manner is "Beatnik Chicks", a mini memoir of a woman reflecting on the women et large of the Beat generation, of which she was a child-witness. She notes their impact, both the authors and the "girlfriends", the women that were intended as little more than scenery. It's not the fact that she's noting the sexist running to outright misogynist views held by many of the "stars" of the Beats that makes this story so memorable; Pekar dutifully notes in his dull way the sexist attitudes and even attributes quotes. It's the fact that it's personal in a way the source material needs to be. The art works with the narration (worth noting is the fact that the story is done by a separate writer and artist, just like Pekar's offerings) smoothly in a manner not unlike The Influencing Machine. Though the scope of the story is narrow, it manages to provide a better suggestion of the Beat generation than all of the Pekar/Piskor material combined.
This book doesn't serve as a "Cliff's Notes" or any kind of primer for learning about the Beats. It's flat-out not good enough, which is a shame. As far as people who already know a little something and are looking for a further education, it's frustrating. To those that are knowledgeable on the subject, it can be outright offensive (depending on one's inclination to nit-picking). But the non Pekar/Piskor material does offer enough (and a range of topics regarding the Beats, from the overlooked "chicks", to the people who should be stars, to a personal account of a Beat turning hippie, and more) to pique the interest and satisfy, however fleetingly, anyone with a basic knowledge of the Beat generation. Hopefully that book (which is practically a different book from the two thirds Pekar/Piskor) will create interest in the lesser explored topics and individuals of the Beats.
Notable: For the great enjoyment and education to be derived from "Beatnik Chicks", the author missteps uncomfortably in one of the few areas Pekar got right.
In detailing the failings of the "main" stars of the Beats, she tells the story of young poet Elise Cowan, who is "dazzled by a seductive young charmer named Allen Ginsberg". By author Joyce Brabner's telling, Cowan is "eager to please her presumed soul mate", typing his "long poem 'Howl' and doing him other favors" only to have a rude (but slow) awakening when "it takes a while for Elise to realize that they have no future together" for the reason you probably guessed. Ginsberg, by Brabner's words, "is queer".
Queer is a word we as a people occasionally use ourselves use to describe ourselves, reclaiming what once was (and in some circles, still unfortunately is) an insult. Sometimes, even a non-queer person can get away with it if s/he's artistic enough (and enough of an ally otherwise). But Brabner's term, which caps a story about Ginsberg being portrayed as basically an ungrateful bait'n'switcher, comes off as what it is: a slur. And it mars an otherwise worthy story.
Fun Fact: the author of "Beatnik Girls", Joyce Brabner, is Harvey Pekar's wife. Interesting that their styles vary so vastly.
Title: The Beats: A Graphic History edited by Paul Buhle
Details: Copyright 2009, Hill and Wang
Synopsis (By Way of Front and Back Flaps): "In The Beats: A Graphic History, those who were mad to live have come back to life through artwork as vibrant as the Beat movement itself. Told by the comic legend Harvey Pekar, his frequent artistic collaborator Ed Piskor, and a range of artists and writers, including the feminist comic creator Trina Robbins and the Mad magazine artist Peter Kuper, The Beats takes us on a wild tour of a generation that, in the face of mainstream American conformity and conservatism, became known for its determined uprootedness, aggressive addictions, and startling creativity and experimentation.
What began among a small circle of friends in New York and San Francisco during the late 1940s and early 1950s laid the groundwork for a literary explosion, and this striking anthology captures the storied era in all its incarnations—from the Benzedrine-fueled antics of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs to the painting sessions of Jay DeFeo’s disheveled studio, from the jazz hipsters to the beatnik chicks, from Chicago’s College of Complexes to San Francisco’s famed City Lights bookstore. Snapshots of lesser-known poets and writers sit alongside frank and compelling looks at the Beats’ most recognizable faces. What emerges is a brilliant collage of—and tribute to—a generation, in a form and style that is as original as its subject."
Why I Wanted to Read It: This popped up during a souring of my local libraries "graphic novel" offerings. I saw the name "Trina Robbins" and my heart soared.
How I Liked It: I've now read some of Harvey Pekar's work, and thus familiarized myself with Ed Piskor's as an illustrator. I'm not really much of a fan of Pekar, but he's enjoyable enough. The same can't be said for Piskor's style of illustration, which manages to be both lazy (the famous characters' faces seem to run together) as well as stock-ugly (pimples abound on naked body parts, blackheads/pockmarks dot just about every nose, and nearly every female has a shriek-prone drawn mouth and razor nails).
In this particular volume, Pekar's text alongside Piskor's work make up unfortunately more than roughly two thirds of the book. Pekar's text is static; it reads almost like a textbook, or perhaps an overly dry lecture, and the narrative flow is out and out lost. While in one panel (of the entire Pekar/Piskor section) Pekar himself is seen narrating ala American Splendor, the section for the most part looks like hasty, clumsy, and wholly unnecessary illustration running alongside boring, flatly didactic text. I can't help but wonder if this section would've been different if Pekar would've taken the narrative route ala The Influencing Machine: Brooke Gladstone on the Media, where Gladstone was freely telling true stories but depicted as walking alongside them, and never losing you. This story is like an inside joke that's not all that funny or clever anyway.
The book entire's saving grace is the non Pekar/Piskar collaboration portion, which is shamefully short. The stories, both in text and in illustration, are forgettable (but still leaps and bounds better than the Pekar/Piskar section) to amazing. Pekar does write several of the other stories, but we're at least spared the ugly lines of Piskar for awhile. Two stories have staggering art but boring text: one is a Pekar narration and the other an admirable illustration to quotes from a 1997 collection of Beat writings (From Bughouse Square To The Beat Generation: Selected Ravings Of Slim Brundage - Founder & Janitor Of The College Of Complexes). To be fair, the former's authors (Pekar and artist Mary Fleener) created the story to work together and only the illustration is notable. The story done to quotes is working with a "stand-alone" medium (meaning it's from a book that didn't allot for illustration), so it's distracting.
Trina Robbins's contribution is as an author of one of the better stories, "The Rose", about painter Jay Defeo's most famous work. While her pacing and storytelling are excellent, the artist's style (sort of in the vein of Apartment 3-G or Mary Worth) is so antiquated, it hinders the story: in 2009, we know that style isn't de rigueur for story-telling, so it comes across as an odd, almost camp choice to pair with Robbins's words.
Probably the best story in the collection and certainly one that seems to genuinely educate about the Beats in a relatable manner is "Beatnik Chicks", a mini memoir of a woman reflecting on the women et large of the Beat generation, of which she was a child-witness. She notes their impact, both the authors and the "girlfriends", the women that were intended as little more than scenery. It's not the fact that she's noting the sexist running to outright misogynist views held by many of the "stars" of the Beats that makes this story so memorable; Pekar dutifully notes in his dull way the sexist attitudes and even attributes quotes. It's the fact that it's personal in a way the source material needs to be. The art works with the narration (worth noting is the fact that the story is done by a separate writer and artist, just like Pekar's offerings) smoothly in a manner not unlike The Influencing Machine. Though the scope of the story is narrow, it manages to provide a better suggestion of the Beat generation than all of the Pekar/Piskor material combined.
This book doesn't serve as a "Cliff's Notes" or any kind of primer for learning about the Beats. It's flat-out not good enough, which is a shame. As far as people who already know a little something and are looking for a further education, it's frustrating. To those that are knowledgeable on the subject, it can be outright offensive (depending on one's inclination to nit-picking). But the non Pekar/Piskor material does offer enough (and a range of topics regarding the Beats, from the overlooked "chicks", to the people who should be stars, to a personal account of a Beat turning hippie, and more) to pique the interest and satisfy, however fleetingly, anyone with a basic knowledge of the Beat generation. Hopefully that book (which is practically a different book from the two thirds Pekar/Piskor) will create interest in the lesser explored topics and individuals of the Beats.
Notable: For the great enjoyment and education to be derived from "Beatnik Chicks", the author missteps uncomfortably in one of the few areas Pekar got right.
In detailing the failings of the "main" stars of the Beats, she tells the story of young poet Elise Cowan, who is "dazzled by a seductive young charmer named Allen Ginsberg". By author Joyce Brabner's telling, Cowan is "eager to please her presumed soul mate", typing his "long poem 'Howl' and doing him other favors" only to have a rude (but slow) awakening when "it takes a while for Elise to realize that they have no future together" for the reason you probably guessed. Ginsberg, by Brabner's words, "is queer".
Queer is a word we as a people occasionally use ourselves use to describe ourselves, reclaiming what once was (and in some circles, still unfortunately is) an insult. Sometimes, even a non-queer person can get away with it if s/he's artistic enough (and enough of an ally otherwise). But Brabner's term, which caps a story about Ginsberg being portrayed as basically an ungrateful bait'n'switcher, comes off as what it is: a slur. And it mars an otherwise worthy story.
Fun Fact: the author of "Beatnik Girls", Joyce Brabner, is Harvey Pekar's wife. Interesting that their styles vary so vastly.
