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Comics & Graphic Novels

On October 11, comics luminaries N.C. Christopher Couch, Denis Kitchen, and Holly Black came to the Forbes Library in a event I curated as writer in residence, to talk about comics and graphic novels – the act of creation, the importance of the medium, and each of their working styles. I found their comments illuminating, so I’ll share them here.

Chris Couch is a former editor at Kitchen Sink Press in Northampton and CP Manga in NYC, and a current scholar and teacher of graphic novels and comic books. He spoke about the place of comics in today’s literary universe.

Cartoon of Christopher Couch

Couch quipped that when the medium first entered the world of publishing, the comic book “wandered out into the world in its underwear.” With little formal backing, underground comic artists took to “living in garrets, panhandling on the streets of Berkely, whatever it took to become an artist.”

Despite this scrappy tradition, though, Couch said, the comic “has the DNA of short stories in it … but it’s its own artistic medium and deserves respect.” It has the same artistic richness as painting or sculpture, he said.

Today, comics and graphic novels are gaining a wider and wider readership. Young people in particular are reading comic books at a wicked clip. “People are going to read more comics because kids are reading them in school,” Couch said. Plus, he noted, “we’re really busy these days, and you can read a graphic novel faster than you can read a novel.”

Especially in the digital age, he said, comics offer unique pleasures. He noted that because online comics are often made very fast , creators “do awkward things.” Those little idiosyncracies, errors, and slapdash solutions form part of the enjoyment, giving readers a sense of being closer to the artist. “You’re really getting the raw thing when you read webcomics,” Couch noted. “There’s no editor between you and the work.”

“There are things you can do in comics that you can’t express in any other way,” Couch said.

Christopher Couch Action Comics

Denis Kitchen is the founder of Kitchen Sink Press, which published graphic novels by luminaries like Will Eisner, Hurvey Kurtzman, Neil Gaiman, Alan Moore, Trinna Robbins, Scott McCloud annd many others. He’s been in the world of comics since helping originate the “Underground Comix” movement in the 1960’s.

Kitchen’s also a comic creator in his own right, and he shared several hilariously wry short comic sequences from his own work. Many of them riff on his discomfort with his life as an editor and owner of a press. “I was a card-carrying communist and socialist,” he said, “so I felt guilty being a businessman.”

Denis Kitchen's hippie past~

denis kitchen flowers in my hair

by Denis Kitchen

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denis kitchen i can't draw anymore
by Denis Kitchen
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Denis Kitchen - Drawers Full!

by Denis Kitchen

Finally, Holly Black, the best-selling fantasy author of The Spiderwick Chronicles, the Coldest Girl in Coldtown, the new The Cruel Prince, and a couple dozen other novels, spoke about her experience bringing her writing into the world of graphic novels with illustrator Ted Naifeh as collaborator in their series Kin.

Holly Black at the Forbes Library

She had tons of fascinating insights about how an author works best with an illustrator.

“In comics, pacing is often dictated by panel size,” she noted. “In a novel, you bury a clue. But in comics, that’s completely unfair.” Instead, a good clue should be placed somewhere in a full-page panel or other illustration that similarly indicates the importance of that moment in the plot.

“The constraints of comics to me are their real pleasure – the ability to write something like poetry,” she said.

“You have to give up certain kinds of control. You have to give up the right to set mood to the artist,” relying on illustration to create atmosphere, whereas in a book much of the atmospheric detail can come from written description. “As the writer, you’re the less important part of the collaboration.”

However, “there’s such a pleasure in working with that elegant line, the short line.”

Black said in her graphic novels, she likes to focus on “big visual moments and small character moments” that come together to form the world of the story. She mentioned receiving advice from Neil Gaiman, who told her to think of each single comic book as a full novel, and to tell it like that.

Bringing the evening back to Couch’s comparison to all great forms of art, she said that Gaiman advised her that, “the story at the front of the comic is not the real story of the comic.”

Instead, all three speakers agreed, comics, like all art, are vehicles for greater themes – friendship, anger, family, betrayal, death and love.

Summer’s end

As summer rolls to a close, I’m thinking back on its best moments. One highlight of the summer was my trip to England and Scotland, a three-week jaunt from corner to corner of the UK – from Eastbourne’s white cliffs in the southeast, to the black shale cliffs of Cornwall in the southwest; from the dolphins of the Black Isle in Scotland’s northeast, to skylarks dropping fullthroated from the blue above in northwest Gairloch. We had comfortable stops with family in Lancaster and Leeds; we stumbled across the Queen visiting Edinburgh. A trip to satisfy the eternal wanderlust. A travelers’ trip among cloud and damp and mist, or in the occasional sunlight glittering across the dunes at our campsite by the sea or on the barges of the Lancaster canal.

We visited the writers’ museum in Edinburgh, lovely place, and I felt a kinship with Robert Lewis Stevenson, who left his dank home to adventure off to Hawaii and Samoa. May travel never lose its savor.

More contemplations on Great Britain: Americans have no right to roam, but they should, in the Valley Advocate:

One can crisscross the British landscape on foot, exploring farmlands and forests and graveyards and churches that date from the 1100s and even the bottoms of people’s back gardens. Blackbirds, wrens and chaffinches twitter in the hedges; snails creep past underfoot; wildflowers crowd the path edges… read more

Water, for one town and nationwide

I talked with Bob Flaherty on WHMP about water, crumbling water infrastructure nationwide, and the responsibility of large companies like Coca Cola – which operates a large plant in Northampton MA – regarding payment to towns for their water use.

An in depth look at Northampton’s new water sewer rate – WHMP Morning News

The original article in the Valley Advocate is available here.

Black, white and gray – a lens on nature


photo by Stephen Petegorsky

NORTHAMPTON — The Meadows are one of my favorite places to walk, daydream, write, and watch nature change in its numberless daily ways. A swath of agricultural land between Northampton’s downtown and the Connecticut River, they’re within easy walking distance of my home.

Wandering the Meadows, I regularly see red-tailed hawks, bald eagles, and northern harriers – long-winged predators that swing to and fro like giant boomerangs over the long grasses. There, I like to sit on the root system of a huge tree that juts from the riverbank, and watch small boats chug slowly past the Holyoke Range.

I was pleased to discover a new book of photographs of my walking haunts: “The Meadows,” by Stephen Petegorsky, available at Broadside Books… In Petegorsky’s images the Meadows become alien, fey, wild.

Read the rest of the review at the Daily Hampshire Gazette

Wrinkled flower

A world overheating

NORTHAMPTON — About a year ago, I saw three deer running across the Connecticut River. They weren’t walking on water: the river had frozen, thick enough to support their lightly tripping hooves. Last winter, Bostonians got so much snow they called it the Snowpocalypse.

This December, I saw a deer again, but it stood on the Connecticut’s bank, its head dipped, drinking. Three kayakers paddled slowly towards it. I stood with my bicycle on the bike trail, clad only in a sweater. Outside my office, that morning, I’d seen a cherry tree putting out hesitant, puzzled white flowers – flowers that wilted and turned a wrinkled brown with the New Year’s cold snap that finally plunged us into the winter weather we’d been expecting.

We live in New England. Things change here. “If you don’t like the weather in New England,” Mark Twain wrote, “just wait a few minutes.”

I tell my students at Smith College that I’m not surprised that many people struggle to believe in climate change. But everyone knows flowers in late December are, to put it mildly, not normal…

Read more at the Daily Hampshire Gazette

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I’ve also got an article out this week in Smith College’s research magazine on research into brain cancer, autism, depression, sleep disorders and other ailments using the versatile zebrafish:

Zebrafish: The Rising Superstars of Research – Insight Magazine

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Photo above: A cherry blossom at Smith College withers during the January cold snap after flowering during December’s weird warmth.

A spear in the darkness

Reading back through an old notebook, I rediscovered some fine insights by fiction writer Tim Weed, originally shared during a talk he gave at the yearly meeting of the NE Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. He spoke of creating stories that will build lingering meaning for readers.

Weed started by playing two pieces of music, one by Bach, one by John Cage. He asked us which was easiest to listen to. A majority of us preferred the Bach, a piece described by Weed as “more patterned” – a pattern, but with variations within the pattern – “like a fire – you can watch it for hours.”

He then described how literary patterns often function via external and internal symbols or image systems. External symbols mean something to humanity at large, while internal symbols have meaning only within the story.

Weed encouraged us to “lace something through your story that will have a subliminal effect on the subconscious of your reader.” This, he said, is “normally something you add in revision” to “add a resonance.”

“Part of the revision process is re-inhabiting scenes to bring out that resonance that is already subconsciously there,” he said.

It reminded me of a comment by fantasy writer John Crowley. To revise a story, Crowley said, one must “go back” to the frame of mind, the psychological zone where the story came from. “And you can go back,” Crowley assured us.

Weed went on to explain that symbols or image systems provide a “hidden sense of meaning that can appeal to the reader’s buried primal sense of order.”

To achieve this sense of order, one can, as a writer, “tap into your memories of the landscapes of your childhood. Look for surprising or interesting imagery or patterns of imagery.”

He ended, quite beautifully, on a metaphor for the act of creating story.

“We need to throw a spear out into the darkness, then follow that spear with the intellect – bringing our analytical mind to bear, sometimes for years, to create this machine in the mind of the reader.”

Unexpected Encounters

IMG_20150629_130621126_HDR

Today the corn is new, no higher than my knee, and at this height it has a special color: luminous green under the overcast sky. The clouds are thick and dark, like a stew. For some, this place might seem always the same: the corn growing, the looming mountain, the lone trees far off across the fields still and silent, punctuating the view. But for me there is always something to see.

Across the fields I see clouds of red-wing blackbirds tumbling over the new growth, and their cries echo, traveling far over this flat landscape: the “chack-chack” of their short flight call, the “ockaleeeee” of their annunciatory mating song from time to time interrupting the air. Puddles from yesterday’s rain have made an obstacle course of my usual dirt road to the river.

Read the essay at The Common Online

Snow Falling

snowfalling_origimage courtesy of The Common Online

We were tipsy and in a good mood, Paul and I, coming home from our favorite bar in the whirlings of this season’s first “historic snowstorm,” when I noticed the figure floundering in the snow.

He was a dark clot of winter coat and baggy pants, on his knees, fumbling with a long rod. I peered at him.

“Is he ok?” I said. “Oh—maybe he’s just fitting a snow shovel back together.” Our steps brought us closer. “Wait, that’s a cane.”

Read the essay at the Common Online