A beautifully composed and well paced a small town tough guy story written and drawn by Jeff Lemire, high contrast black and white colored in various shades of blue.
A short gripping tale, this one. Artistic merits outweigh complexity of the story 3 to 1. Yet, for me, it was a total page turner for one hour. No wonder some call Lemire the Stephen King of comic books, all thanks to the way he keeps you glued to the pages.
Like 'em when they're like this.
Видимо, слава Guy Delisle не даёт многим спать. Овраги – это затертая копия пхеньянского травелога, девять ничем не знаменательных и бледных дней путешествий квебекского автора комиксов по хипстерскому Питеру.
Прочитать за полчаса и забыть.
Неожиданно нашёл на полке купленный год или два назад и взапой, за час, с сигарой и чаем, прочитал этот короткий трогательный роман в картинках.
Наилучший подход – даже не знать, о чем он, совсем не смотреть на рецензии и краткое содержание на обороте, когда начинаешь читать – тогда его тонкость, нежность, сомнения, страхи, переживания, предрассудки будут максимально выпуклы, неприкрыты, будут резать как нож. Я читал именно так.
А Земфира неправа, вот.
Part three of the Criminal series is a beautiful three-part story told from three different angles.
No point retelling the storyline here, though. Never saw a point in that.
Part two of the Criminal series is entertaining, like all of Brubaker's noir graphic novels. To me, they all have the feel and touch of Westlake, Chase, and the likes of them. Brubaker is one of their kin for sure.
In essence, I'm convinced that comic books are a great medium for crime fiction, something quite on par with the great black and white noir movies. Even the ones with color, like this one, not just Frank Miller's Sin City.
This particular chapter is as good as others – it lacks one thing only – a gory finale, with blood splattering everywhere, and everyone, good, bad, innocent and guilty, moving their bodies in a well rehearsed John-Woo-of-the-80s dance of bullets and brains. On the other hand, I'd say not all good crime books end in death and suffering. So, maybe not too bad for a change, huh.
Bought it in Sipur Pashut bookstore in Tel-Aviv – a short one, less than one hundred pages, an-hour-and-half kinda read. At the beach, where else.
A strange story. It’s part memoir, part fictiotionalized drawn narrative about Lucia Joyce, James Joyce’s daughter, from her birth through career in dancing, at the backdrop of her tough relations with her mother Nora, and ending with Lucia being confined to a mental institution.
The story is told in juxtaposition with the memoir of Mary Talbot herself, a daughter of a renown British Joycean scholar, and her difficult relationship with her own father.
What gives this book special flavor of sorts is the fact that the drawings are made by Bryan Talbot, the cartoonist who is also Mrs. Talbot’s husband. A family enterprise, so to say.
Overall conclusion is that the pictures were great, but for me, it didn’t went anywhere past my beach read. Maybe it will, for devoted Joyce fans, but not for me. But I also suspect, it might just as well sparkle their anger. Who knows, huh.
I haven’t read the original A Wrinkle in Time, so hard for me to compare. Seems like a decent sci-fi story for teenagers, beautifully drawn and all.
But I won’t give it more than that, a children’s book, an old and renowned one, but still.