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Here are this week's links to what I've had published recently...

Kleefeld on Comics: On History: That BWS Thing Story

Patreon: MTV Geek Classic: Kleefeld on Webcomics #57: These Kids Today

The Comics Alternative: Webcomics: Reviews of Cookies, All Along the Wall, and Holiday Wars

Kleefeld on Comics: Weekly Comics Links

FreakSugar: Webcomics Wednesday: Holiday Themes

Kleefeld on Comics: On -isms: Bingo Love Review

Patreon: MTV Geek Classic: Kleefeld On Webcomics #58: A Broadening Base

Kleefeld on Comics: On Strips: The Original Grawlix
http://ift.tt/2EdjQkT

Patreon: MTV Geek Classic: Whatever Happened To 'Fantastic Four's' Cousin Bones?
Finding "the first" instance of something is often very difficult, if not impossible. Not so much for going through and doing research, but more because almost everything has an antecedent of some sort. Which isn't to suggest it's not worth looking, but that what is sometimes cited as "the first" maybe isn't.

But with that said, in looking for the first instance of comic characters using a series of symbols for swearing, everything I came across pointed pretty succinctly to the Dec. 14, 1902 installment of The Katzenjammer Kids by Rudolph Dirks...
In the strip, the Kids are up to their usual antics, resulting in Uncle Heinie taking a long fall. He gets up, seemingly not severely hurt, and begins cursing using a star, an anchor, two exclamation points, a question mark, and some kind of blobby thing that never seemed to have printed very well. The idea seems to have caught on fellow cartoonist Gene Carr used the idea repeatedly throughout 1903.

Two things that caught my eye in doing some research, though, is that
  1. no one seems to question that this is the undeniably first grawlix (a term not coined until the 1960s)
  2. Everybody seems to make note that the anchor is unusually appropriate to signify that Uncle Heinie is "swearing like a sailor"
Calling out that anchor isn't totally illogical, but the fact that Uncle Heine is a sailor and clearly dressed as one could just as readily suggest that the anchor is simply a graphic appropriate for his occupation. Had he been a fire fighter, maybe Dirks might have drawn a flame. Had he been a blacksmith, maybe Dirks might have drawn an anvil.

I can't seem to find an origin for the specific phrase "swear like a sailor" but the idea dates to at least a century earlier. Sea captain Charles Tyng wrote in his biography that he "listened with horror to the profane language of the sailors" when he first went to sea in the early 1800s.

But, again, since Uncle Heinie is already clearly identified as a sailor, the anchor might just well be a reinforcement of that idea. Much the same way as each panel in the strip is individually numbered, the language of comics at the time still tended to favor the blindly obvious.

Interestingly, I found multiple articles on the topic of the first grawlix attributed to Ben Zimmer. He seems to have discovered this particular strip in 2010 and repeats some of this information in other articles, including the "swearing like a sailor" observation. Other articles on the topic seem to reference back to Zimmerman's work, either directly or indirectly, and I can't find any written prior to 2010.

I'm not saying Zimmer is wrong here in his identification of Dirks being the first to use a grawlix, but I'm not seeing anyone who's done their own research. Everyone seems to have just assumed Zimmer's work is definitive. And he may well be correct, but I'd be interested to see if anybody else has been able to corroborate or disprove his findings.
I heard about Bingo Love in the early days of their Kickstarter. I recall that, as it gained broader attention beyond comics, my wife eventually heard about their campaign independently and she encouraged me to contribute, which I was pleased to say I'd already done. The story was ostensibly about two Black women who fall in love with each other in 1963, and how their deal with that relationship in a society that flatly rejects that notion.

The story starts with both women as teenagers; Mari's just moved into town and Hazel is assigned to show her the ropes around school. They become fast friends and spend most their high school careers together. A fight between Mari and her grandmother, though, leads to an impromptu kiss between the two young women and they soon realize that they've both been in love for years, afraid to tell the other. Of course, they're promptly discovered and Mari is soon sent away to arranged marriage. We then follow Hazel as she gets on with her life. For the next half century, she plays the part of a stereotypical housewife before she has a chance encounter with Mari again. The decades fall away, and the two women -- now both grandmothers -- resume their relationship, but not without some emotional turmoil for their families.

I was surprised by this book on many fronts. First, the story itself, while ultimately about Mari and Hazel's lives, covers most of their major life events in just a few pages. We've already learned a fair amount about the protagonists by that point, but that means we have very little time spent to do any character work on their kids and grandkids. And yet, in the brief snippets we do have of them, we get a lot of insights about their personalities -- enough that none of the secondary characters feel like stock characters just dropped in for the plot but are all fleshed-out, full-blooded individuals, even if they only speak on one or two pages. Kuods to Tee Franklin for having all these people so well-conceived.

But a lot of credit here, I think, goes to artist Jenn St-Onge. Despite a fairly simplified, almost cartoony, drawing style, she does an amazing job capturing people's body language. I noticed right off how smooth and fluid he renditions of Hazel and Mari were, but all those secondary characters really come alive through her art as well. So whatever characterization we don't get via text and dialogue comes though very well in facial expressions and posture. I was really stunned by how natural everybody looked all the time -- every gesture, every expression, every pose was perfect for whatever that character was doing, thinking, and feeling at that moment. I wasn't familiar with her work before, but I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for it going forward.

I was surprised, too, just how much emotional resonance the book held for me. I've obviously never been a gay Black woman in the 1960s, but this felt like about as close as I could get to experiencing that personally. Once their families get involved, the emotions naturally run all over the place, and they all really connected very well. Everyone's reactions always seemed genuine and truthful to themselves.

I wouldn't go so far as to say this book is perfect; but it's about as close to it as I've seen in a long, long time. If you missed the Kickstarter, you don't have to worry -- it will be published again by Image Comics on, appropriately enough, February 14 -- Valentine's Day.
Last week, Barry Windsor-Smith posted a series of previously unpublished pages to a Fantastic Four story from 1984. Since he didn't provide much context, I'm presenting some here (along with all the relevant pages Windsor-Smith posted for anyone not on Facebook).

Windsor-Smith hasn't worked much with the Fantastic Four. There's one stand-alone story from Marvel Fanfare #15 and a handful of pages from Fantastic Four #296, the 25th anniversary issue. Aside from that, the only other published piece was the cover for Fantastic Four #50 back in 2002. So where does this unpublished piece fit in?

After working on that Marvel Fanfare story, which was very well-received, he started work on a four- or five-issue mini-series starring The Thing. Quoted by Alan David Doane, Windsor-Smith has stated that he had "completed two 22-page chapters in pencil, part inks, part script, and partial lettering. The story foundered for a while and in the meantime I created Weapon X, after that the Thing series was largely forgotten until 2005."

It would seem that's when Windsor-Smith himself came across his old art files. He knew the story was unlikely to sell as a limited series in the then-current market, so he switched gears a little to develop it as a single graphic novel.
My concept for publication is to present the work in a single volume -- hardcover and trade paperback -- with editorial material explaining the history of the story and including the many visual out-takes culled from over the years. This will not only be rewarding in an historical way but will allow a smoother transition from the look and sound of my 1980s work to my somewhat different style of 2005. Mind you, Marvel has yet to green light this project, we're still in talks.
In looking through what Windsor-Smith posted, I don't see anywhere that really looks like it would serve as a break between issues. My first thought was that he'd already started re-working the piece since what we see strikes me as a heck of a lot more than "pencil, part inks, part script, and partial lettering." But since what he's posted is a 48 page story (with one page in the middle missing) I'm inclined to think it may have been set up as two larger issues, instead of four smaller ones.

In any event, the rework discussions Windsor-Smith noted were back in 2006/06. Since that was over a decade and two editors-in-chief ago with no book having materialized, I'm inclined to think Windsor-Smith's posting of these pages is acquiescing to the fact that even if he completed the entire book, Marvel would be unlikely to publish it. Certainly not any time soon. With that, here are the story pages that Windsor-Smith posted on Facebook...