Have you actually read the press release for marvel's new please-we-need-more-customers-so-we'll-start-marketing-directly-to-grade-school-kids online venture? Let me quote you some prime passages...

"In this action-packed thrill-ride Marvel brings some of it’s mightiest heroes together to battle enemies too powerful for any one hero to defeat!"

"It’s super heroics, repulsor rays and smashing like no Marvel fan has ever seen before, exclusively from your friendly neighborhood pals at MarvelKids.Com."

"It’s your universe, your favorite heroes and groundbreaking animated fun rolled into the can’t-miss Marvel Adventures Animated Advervideos!"

Does it strike anyone else besides me that this reads a LOT differently than marvel's other press releases? It reads like it's actually aimed at the audience they want showing up on marvelkids.com, doesn't it? Young kids under age 12? It's certainly not stylistically typical of the hyperbole they use when they were promoting "Civil War" or "One More Day" or whatever.

So answer me this, then: how many kids under the age of 12 read press releases? I don't know, but I'm guessing something south of a dozen. Give or take. Wouldn't it make more sense, in writing a press release for this, to target the parents of those kids?

I'm not saying they shouldn't target the under-12 market, but it just seems to me that doing so by issuing a press release to them isn't going to work very well. How about some flashy internet ads that show up on web sites kids visit? Ooo! Or here's a thought: how about an ad on their own web site, instead of a smallish text link crammed between their logo and the "important" news of the new Spider-Man continuity that's been plastered all over every comic book web site for the past few weeks?

Alright, so you've seen Alice in Sunderland listed in numerous "Best of 2007" lists, and you're thinking, "What's so bleedin' special about this dang book anyway?" Well, I've finished the copy I got for Christmas, and I'm here to give you the skinny.

To start with, the book is NOT, as the title suggests, about the significance of Sunderland in the creation of Lewis Carroll's Alice books. Nor is it about Sunderland generally, or the Alice stories generally, or Lewis Carroll generally. Oh, don't get me wrong, there is PLENTY of information about all of that -- certainly more than in just about every other book specifically talking to any of those subjects -- but that's not what Alice in Sunderland is about. The book is about storytelling. Not just storytelling in comics and movies and novels, but storytelling in all its forms. How myths and legends begin, and how they evolve, and how they can be accepted as truth.

Superficially, a Punter heads into the Empire Theatre to watch the Performer talk about and show films describing how important Sunderland was to Lewis Carroll and Alice Liddell, and how the Alice books are in fact filled with references to Sunderland and it's inhabitants. The films shown provide a great deal of historical background and are hosted/narrated by a Pilgrim. (The Punter, Performer, and Pilgrim are all manifestations of author Bryan Talbot, by the way. Talbot also makes a few appearances as himself throughout the book in metatextual cameos.)

The 300+ pages are crammed with information, much of which is only tangentally related to the "real" story. Matt K noted here a few days ago some agitation on his part with number of times Talbot pulled a "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" to provide something approaching relevance for what otherwise might cause readers to question its inclusion. Personally, I rather enjoyed that aspect, though largely because I've had an interest in Lewis Carroll for many years and those almost random-seeming tangents were the only new pieces of factual information for me.

Talbot does do, I think, a very effective job in providing all of this information. There is so much, running on so many different levels, that trying to organize it all in a straightforward, logical manner for readers would be nearly impossible. Talbot seemed to recognize this and play that up with some decidedly non-linear storytelling. Which also works to the notion of following in Carroll's footsteps, and providing a sense of dreaming or something apart from reality. For those concerned, though, Talbot's language throughout the book is simple and easy-to-follow, which aids readers from getting too confused by the sidebars.

What I found really striking throughout the book, though, was the art. He meshes typical comic book line drawings with scans of old artwork and photographs, as well as modified photographs to great effect. He also adopts various styles of illustration -- occasionally even getting other artists to assist him -- to emphasize differences in how the content should be interpreted. Likewise, there's no adherence to a strict layout; some pages have "traditional" comic book gutters between panels, others feel more like collage. Strangely, though, these different artistic approaches -- like the tangental content itself -- seem to largely blend together. While it's certainly noticeable when Talbot changes styles, it's not disruptive to the overall flow. It's clearest here, I think, that Talbot is a consummate storyteller and knows well how to work in the sequential art format.

Beyond all that, though, the book is charming and sincere. Talbot doesn't hold himself up as a true authority on any subject he covers in the book, and admits his owns errors and lapses with self-doubt within the context of the book almost regularly. Despite casting himself as all of the primary characters, it comes across as a commentary on he speaks/debates with himself and not a result of ego. (Though, it must be said somewhat ironically, the Punter, Performer and Pilgrim could easily be seen as manifestations of Talbot's Id, Ego, and Super-Ego.)

Alice in Sunderland does not have a typical plot, which would be easily explainable. It does not have a real protagonist or antagonist. There're no spandex-clad superheroes, no aliens, no superheroines with gravitationally-challenged breasts. It does have excellent storytelling, excellent artwork, a wealth of information, and a generally insightful message. Well worth the price of admission in my book.

I love comics. A lot. Probably more than is really healthy. But the more I know about comics, the less desire I have to work in the comics industry for a living. Everything I've ever learned about every aspect of the comics business leads me to believe that A) just about everyone in the biz -- from creators to distributors to retailers -- loves the medium, and B) you really HAVE to love it because it's a heck of a lot of work for pretty low returns. There's a handful of folks who have made a good living off comics, but they're the decided exception.

So it always surprises me when someone takes a gamble on a comic related business. Whether that's opening a new shop or trying to put out their own self-published comic or whatever, that's taking on a huge risk even for the most talented individuals. And regardless of their skill or the quality of their product/service, I wish them all the best, however foolish I might personally think they are.

There are any number of statistics floating about regarding failure rates of start-ups, but I think it's safe to say that most businesses will fail in less than five years. See, the main problem is that starting up a company of any sort requires a lot of very different skills. You need to know your product, naturally, but you also need to know how to run a business, which entails dealing with suppliers, distributors, retailers, lawyers, government officials, and -- oh, yeah -- end customers. And then you need to know something about marketing and salesmanship. Which can mean copy writing, graphic design, web programming, realty (location, location, location!) and much more. Now you can certainly hire people to take up the various tasks that you might need more assistance with, but that of course requires money. In many cases, more than taking out bank loans and maxing out your credit cards will grant you. So start-ups are, by pretty much any standard, an uphill climb.

It should come as no surprise, then, that we don't see many publishers that last a good, long while. Even many of what are now considered stalwarts of comic publishing are only ten years old. With all that said, I have some long-term optimism about one of the new kids on the block: Red 5 Comics.

Now, for those of you who've read their books, I think you'll agree that they've got the "making good comics" bit down pretty well already. I don't think I've seen a negative review of any of their books yet, and I know I've certainly enjoyed everything I've read from them thus far. Solid storytelling, both in art and writing, across the board. They've also been good at hitting deadlines and getting books out on a regular schedule -- which is, of course, more than I can say about many publishers from numbers one and two on down! But, as I noted earlier, that's only part of the battle.

The next part of the battle is getting the product to someplace the consumer is going to see it. Well, somewhat fortunately for comic publishers in general, there's really only one avenue to realistically take here: setting up Diamond as your distributor. (Oh, there's plenty of downsides to having Diamond as their only option, but in this instance, it makes things somewhat easier on publishers.) We know Red 5's got this down because, simply enough, their comics are making it into comic book shops.

Then there's marketing. I think Red 5's done pretty well on that front. Not only do they keep updating their web site at least weekly (far more often than even some larger publishers) most of the creators have web sites up and running with fairly regular updates. The trickier element they've also done pretty well at has been getting their folks interviewed by several of the "name" news outlets. We're not seeing just press releases being sent out and published more-or-less blindly, but actual back-and-forth interviews to help drum up interest.

Now the part that I can't really speak to directly, of course, is the financing. Red 5 is a private company, so they're not likely to share their money situation with outsiders. They have recruited some respectable advertisers, though not many, and it's about impossible for me to guess at their ad rates. But they're also using a nicer (read as: more expensive) grade of paper than many folks, and their print runs are small enough to almost certainly not qualify them for good volume discounts. There is a contact form on their site specifically geared towards investors, which might suggest they don't have solid and/or long-term financial backing yet, but it should be noted that marvel has a similar inquiry page and they've been fairly stable and solvent for several years now. (Side note: I'm still kicking myself for not buying any of their stock back when it was 35 cents a share!)

It does seem that Red 5 is doing reasonably well, financially, so far. Given that their initial sales numbers are respectable by indie comic standards, one has to suppose they're at least breaking even. This is supported, too, by the recent announcement of a second Atomic Robo series even before this first one is complete. Presumably, that decision was based primarily on the sales figures of the first issue. However, sales figures can be misleading (ignoring the fact that the generally accepted sales numbers we all cite are educated guesses of only a portion of the market, at best) as both CrossGen's and Gorilla's sales were four or five times what Red 5's are, and they both still ran into problems and folded.

I bring up those two defunct companies because they, too, had good quality books that received a decent amount of critical acclaim, and I had high hopes for. They both also had distinctly different financial issues and different economic models for running their businesses. There may be little or no real comparison between either of them and Red 5. But my point is that, because Red 5 is a private company and can keep their money situation as quiet as they like, there's no real gauge for anyone outside the company to know how well they may or may not be doing.

From what little I can see, however, I'm optimistic. Probably in part because I want to see more quality comics like the ones they're producing, and that hope is translating into optimism. But, from what I can see and what I do know, I don't see any reason(s) why they won't be a player in the publishing market for years to come. And, given that I'm usually pretty skeptical about these types of things, that means either Red 5 is on the right track or I'm really deluding myself on this one because I've been subconsciously looking for a comic publisher who I can really support across their entire line.

I'm going to share with you the best line of dialogue in any comic I've read this week ('cuz I know you're certainly not buying the book it comes from)...

"Whilst your techniques are impish in nature, they cannot staunch the flow of your impending bloodletting at my monkey hands of chess-doom!"
Pirates vs. Ninjas II #6

I got a chance to read the latest volume of Bizenghast on my lunch hour today. It continues the story of Dinah and Vincent, and how they're helping to collect lost souls in the unusual town of Bizenghast.

This volume is curious in that it's very dependent on having read the previous volumes. I seem to recall the first three being more friendly to first-time readers, but I got the sense here that things would be very confusing if readers were unfamiliar with what's gone on before. The characters are all identified and the basic plot summary is present for newcomers, but the transitions between worlds seems to me as decidedly vague here and could be off-putting. That's not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, given that this is designed as a finite series, but it's worth observing for folks who may wish to try the story but can't readily find the earlier volumes. For those of us reading since Book 1, it is nice to speed along through what could be the tedium of the characters getting a new assignment each night.

The plot of this volume was a little weak, by comparison to the others, largely because of the seemingly sudden introduction of Dinah's and Vincent's personal lives. While there were references earlier on to their families, there was no real mention of their schooling or social circles. Dinah finding schoolyard friends here, some of whom were evidently relatively close to her, and other schoolmates inquiring about Vincent seemed somewhat out of place. While the majority of the story is still focused on Dinah's and Vincent's helping lost souls, the introductions of their peers struck me as something of a course-change in the book's direction.

On the positive end of plot developments, we're given a greater sense of the real threat that Dinah and Vincent are facing on a nearly nightly basis. Their tasks are no longer easily achievable, but provide a true danger to their very lives. This is, of course, a welcome addition as the plot is no longer quite as predictable. There's also some more significant development in the backstory of the town itself and one it's early inhabitants: Addie Clark.

The strength of the book is still largely in LeGrow's illustrations. She spends a great deal of time with the character's clothing, designing a new outfit for almost every scene, and the details in her architecture are striking as well. Her background in costume design is plainly evident and, for me at least, quite a refreshing change from "typical" comic illustrators.

On an interesting side note, I had the book lying out the other night during band practice. The wife of the guitarist we were auditioning noticed it and said, "That looks like something one of my kids reads." I responded with, "Yeah, those're mostly popular with 14-year-old girls, but I dig this series too." She acted surprised, which I later gathered was because one of her kids is indeed a 14-year-old girl.

I spent most of today on the couch nursing my cold/flu/general ickiness, and opted to watch Garfield: The Movie for the first time. The plot seems loosely based off the 1982 animated special Here Comes Garfield with the notable differences of being A) considerably longer, and B) considerably less funny.

Part of the problem was the length. It was, effectively, a half-hour plot stretched out to 90 minutes. So you end up with things like an extended scene of Garfield and Odie dancing, and an out-of-place musical number in the middle of the movie. A lot of the gags were clearly contrivances to pad the movie out, and weren't terribly effective.

Problem number two was in the effects. Or, rather, the conscious act of avoiding them if possible. Garfield himself wasn't animated particularly well and didn't seem to really interact with his environment so much as walk on top of it. And there were a few scenes where they opted for putting the character in a box, which then got pulled by a string, rather than animate the feline. If that were made in the early 1990s, I could maybe understand, but this was a 2004, post-Jurassic Park film. The movie felt very much like Garfield was dropped in around everyone else.

The love story between Jon and Liz was terribly forced and wholly unnecessary. Liz contributed absolutely zero to helping Jon find Garfield. (Not that Jon did that much either, but he was at least able to drive Garfield and Odie home from the train station.) The movie's title was Garfield; it should be about Garfield, not Garfield's owner.

Not a movie worth seeing, even if you just catch it on cable.

The day wasn't a total waste, though, as I was able to get through half of Bryan Talbot's Alice in Sunderland between naps. Brilliant work, so far; I'll post a more complete review once I finish it.

I spent much of Sunday traveling, and yesterday I was sick, wavering in and out of consciousness while zoning out on a Planet of the Apes marathon. I opted to go to bed around 8:00, but was up in the bathroom by nine throwing up. Right after getting a couple of those final dry heaves that proves that you've completely emptied your stomach, I thought, "Well, that's what I think of 2007."

Symbolism is used frequently in storytelling because it provides a dramatic shortcut to explaining a more difficult or complex relationship. Pink Floyd's album The Wall for example is all about how Pink erected internal barriers, isolating himself from the outside world on an emotional level. "Another Brick In The Wall" isn't a literal brick in a literal wall, but rather a metaphor for the construction of those emotional barriers.

Symbolism shows up in comics all the time, in part because it's such a strong visual medium. Batman standing on a rooftop, casting his shadow over a burglar. Captain America giving Hitler a whack on the jaw. Superman soaring up in front of a rising sun. Heck, what is the Hulk himself but a symbol of Bruce Banner's pent-up rage?

Curiously, though, a lot MORE symbolism can be found in non-visual storytelling. The campaign speeches of all the current presidential candidates is rife with it. "Vote for me or terrorists will come here to blow us up." "Vote for me or we'll see a repeat of 9/11." The reason it's being used is because it can communicate an immediate visual in a venue that does not have an inherent visual with it. And, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. There was an article in last week's Newsweek which talked about how scientists have proven that verbal imagery provides a greater and more immediate stimulation of our brain's amygdala, which controls our fear, than speech that doesn't use such imagery.

But because comics are an inherently visual medium in the first place, there's less of a need (theoretically) for symbolism. An image of a guy being hit or shot isn't going to be that much more impactful when you try to symbolize what that might feel like. Additionally, the nature of visual mediums tends to veer toward the more literally representative. It becomes harder to identify that differences between literal representations and symbolic ones when it's all jumbled together in one illustration.

But I, for one, would be curious to see more of this sort of thing. As experiments. Dave McKean's done some of it, as has Ben Templesmith. Steve Ditko did, to some degree. But I think it would be interesting to see a larger body of work that really explored the possibilities of symbolism in comics.