New Engineering

In the foreword to his first book, New Engineering [Picture Box, Inc., $19.95], Yuichi Yokoyama states that "there are two kinds of artworks. One carries information and the other is craft. The former expresses new ideas... the later is the kind of work that one desires to purchase and own. I aim for the former."

This is a strange statement coming from an artist just featured in the newest issue of hipster uberzine Ganzfeld 5: Japanda! [Ginko Press, $29.95]; and someone who plans to publish two new books, the next one about travel, in the next two years.

That is how new art can often feel: unfinished and contradictory.

For example, in Yokoyama's work he only uses rulers to draw his lines, yearning to remove the human element from the work completely, to make the perspective of his invented reality more mechanical, objective.

But there is human feeling in the stories: angles of perspective jut out violently, action lines and boulders crash brilliantly, and bold Japanese sound effect scripts deliver compelling dialogue, in his visual narratives of alien paper dolls and plastic mountains.

What are his stories about?

"I like construction sites and traveling." Yokoyama's characters, sometimes an inanimate boulder or book used as projectile weapon within the landscape pop off of the page. Adhesives of no explanation glue together costumes of feathers and rubber. Often his stories are events in progress, such as an unexplained battle or the construction of an underwater viewing station.

Plainly stated: if you, the reader, are looking for what Yokoyama states as a "humanistic work," or "works of a personal nature," I can recommend this book to you with a warning that you may find it an oblique read, especially reading right to left in it's original Japanese format.

If you are the type of reader who loves the alien and the new, the person among friends who preferred the original Andrei Tarkovsky Solaris over the Soderberg remake, this is your cup of tea. Maybe you even saw another Tarkovsky film, Stalker, where alien technology has been left to humanity with no user manual. That is the feeling with Yuichi Yokoyama's New Engineering. It is something new.

By Guest Contributor: Mark Denardo

OMEGA the Unknown

Okay. So, Jonathan Lethem wrote in his book of essays, The Disappointment Artist, about Omega the Unknown, "It's a comic from the 70's from master storyteller Steve Gerber, along with Mary Skrenes and illustrator Jim Mooney."

The original book has a great story, with this very gothic 70's superhero vibe. Somewhere between Power Man/Iron Fist and Doctor Strange from that same period. Within 10 issues a mystery involving a boy, a superhero from another planet, robots, and the greek letter Omega are shown but never really explained.

According to Wikipedia, Gerber objected initially to the retelling of Omega the Unknown, but has since allowed the remake. Gerber's thoughts were "Why not just name the book something else? Why take my ideas?"

This retelling is strong, but has a different tone. The mystery of Omega the Unknown is replaced by irony and personal history of Lethem, whose writing voice in this book mirrors his work in his essays and novels. He drafts great dialogue, and this is a trend in comics I would like to see continue. Comic books should be well written -- not just be wooden good vs. evil smackdowns all the time.

Farel Dalrymple's drawings are very different from Jim Mooney's, who worked closely with both John Romita and John Buscema on the Amazing Spider-Man and the Mighty Thor respectively, and as a result drew Omega very much in that same expressive style. Dalrymple art is more about what is happening inside; the facial expressions giving life to the narrative. The human form is anatomically well-drafted, but still looks like a comic book -- somewhere between Ted McKeever and Dan Clowes. The colors Paul Hornschemeier renders are unique and opaque; I like his robot laser blasts.

But is this a remake? No. It feels like a new book, and the parts which tie in with the original fable even seem forced and ironic at times, probably on purpose. Even if they recreate the comic panel by panel, it will still feel like a new story. This reinforces Steve Gerber's initial argument about the remake: that it did not have to be an Omega remake at all. Still, this is the first issue of the first comic book ever by Jonathan Lethem, the well-known writer and novelist best known for Fortress of Solitude, and it's really damn good anyway.

By Guest Contributor: Mark Denardo

Apollo's Song Review

"Apollo's Song" by Osamu Tezuka, is Tezuka cast of characters in top form.

"'The Song for Apollo' is a science fiction manga for young readers featuring a boy named Chikaishi Shogo, a bad boy who has grown up without knowing love. In the story, he travels in time to search for true love." [Synopsis taken from Tezuka's site]

I also see a similarity between this manga and the novels "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" [1968, Phillip K. Dick] and "Valis," [1981, Phillip K. Dick] due to times in our respective societies when sexuality, technology and identity became subjects of importance in science fiction writing.

"Apollo's Song" is a fever dream of the future, splicing the storytelling gene of the greek myth with the cyberpunk future tale. Both heroes struggle to find love as artificial constructs in "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep," and "Apollo's Sun." Both Kilgore Trout from "Valis," and Chikaishi Shogo both suffer a multiple personality disorder that in time reads more like an actual phasing of their real selves through time. This is heavy shit.

As Shogo falls through the cracks of his dream lives to rediscover and suffer love tragically, he willingly accepts his fate to experience the wheel of karma time and time again, combining the Buddhist with the greek myth/cyberpunk hybrid.

"Apollo's Song" is a really great read. This is Tezuka, also known as the "Japanese Walt Disney," in top form. His team of artists render the story with such quality, the likes of his "Phoenix," and "Cyborg 009" stories, with lush vegetation, expressive gestures, and mind-numbing technological epiphany.

Read it.

By Guest Contributor: Mark DeNardo

24/7 Vols 1 and 2

In our culture, we live under the rule of the machine. It is like the first Terminator film where all you can think about is the end of mankind by a Terminator's hand and gun. By the third movie [not as bad as Robocop 2], the machine is a person, a champion, a hero.

We identify with the robot and their story: the robot is the person as a machine, sharing our problems limitations, discovering limitations in design.

24/7, edited by Ivan Brandon, is storytelling in a robot city in tandem with our own, a future present of smoky noir and melodrama, unfufilled dreams, gang crime, and tales of redemption. Most of it looks like New York.

At the collection's best Brandon's selections tell great stories, like the tale of a man who just wants his dog back after getting out of jail ["The Pit" by John Ney Reiber/Chris Brunner, Vol 1], or the story of a heist double-cross ["Getaway" by Ivan Brandon/Calum Alexander Watt Vol 2].

If reading about drugs, cops, and fights in comics is what you're all about, this collection will give you plenty of spilt oil. Stories take cues straight from a video game ["Coast 2 Coast" by Mark Sable Vol 2], or horror film ["Static" by Matt Fraction/Frazer Irving Vol 1].

Adam Hughes or Ashley Wood are here, too, and are some of my favorites. Their work is great in Vol 2, telling stories with one picture and few words.

I also really like the cute ninja robot action story ["Old Fashioned" by Dave Grosland Vol 1]. 24/7 Volume 1 is a great read, with Vol. 2 showcasing very strong visual variations on the theme. It's a good follow up.

Choose your own adventure.

By Guest Contributor: Mark Denardo