Comics

Bozhe Moi, I think my brain is finally giving out. Or at least my imagination.

I have been reading comics for over 40 years and depending on my my mood, I like everything from the Sunday funnies to the darkest of the new reality stuff that seems to be melding increasingly with American style superheroes. I like European bande dessinée and Japanese manga (though the latter less so). Increasingly, as I get older, though, I like the modern takes on the original four-colour American comic books, the stuff that seemed inexplicably glamorous, colourful and exciting when I was nine and ten years old, compared with British comics such as the Beano and the Dandy; though I loved the weekly Valiant, that my Uncle Des used to buy and give to me a week later and TV21 was up there with the US stuff, but used characters from my favourite TV shows.

My recent favourites, other than reprints of much-loved classics, have undoubtedly been Grant Morrison's All-Star Superman, which was a fine mixture of classic four-colour story-telling, with an indulgent and knowing modern smile. The artwork drew (pardon the pun) on both the golden and silver age classics, but also with a bande dessinée overlay. Above all they were fun, which is what comics are supposed to be.



I have just read Grant Morrison's Final Crisis in a hardback collection. It is a testament to the man that the style is so different to his work on All-Star Superman, but I have to say that where his imagination, combined with that of artists JG Jones and Doug Mahnke took off, mine just fell and scuffed its knees. I read the book over several days rather than devour it in a sitting. I found it entertaining and visually stunning, but I think I understood barely a jot of what was going on other than it is a colossal confrontation using Kirby's Fourth World as the backdrop and the usual 'Crisis' formula of combining all the disparate versions of the DC multiverse heroes in one huge slugfest.



It was too much for my poor aging brain to cope with; I need something simpler though whether my next read, the collected Classwar by Rob Williams will fit the bill, I'm not sure...

Comics

Bozhe Moi, I think my brain is finally giving out. Or at least my imagination.

I have been reading comics for over 40 years and depending on my my mood, I like everything from the Sunday funnies to the darkest of the new reality stuff that seems to be melding increasingly with American style superheroes. I like European bande dessinée and Japanese manga (though the latter less so). Increasingly, as I get older, though, I like the modern takes on the original four-colour American comic books, the stuff that seemed inexplicably glamorous, colourful and exciting when I was nine and ten years old, compared with British comics such as the Beano and the Dandy; though I loved the weekly Valiant, that my Uncle Des used to buy and give to me a week later and TV21 was up there with the US stuff, but used characters from my favourite TV shows.

My recent favourites, other than reprints of much-loved classics, have undoubtedly been Grant Morrison's All-Star Superman, which was a fine mixture of classic four-colour story-telling, with an indulgent and knowing modern smile. The artwork drew (pardon the pun) on both the golden and silver age classics, but also with a bande dessinée overlay. Above all they were fun, which is what comics are supposed to be.



I have just read Grant Morrison's Final Crisis in a hardback collection. It is a testament to the man that the style is so different to his work on All-Star Superman, but I have to say that where his imagination, combined with that of artists JG Jones and Doug Mahnke took off, mine just fell and scuffed its knees. I read the book over several days rather than devour it in a sitting. I found it entertaining and visually stunning, but I think I understood barely a jot of what was going on other than it is a colossal confrontation using Kirby's Fourth World as the backdrop and the usual 'Crisis' formula of combining all the disparate versions of the DC multiverse heroes in one huge slugfest.



It was too much for my poor aging brain to cope with; I need something simpler though whether my next read, the collected Classwar by Rob Williams will fit the bill, I'm not sure...

Losing of the weight

I'm not convinced that it really shows yet as I am such a lardy chap, but there appears to be progress - quantifiable progres - in the weight loss department. I tried my leather jacket on this afternoon and while there is still significant poundage to be lost before I achieve the immediate ambition of being able to button it over a teeshirt without stifling myself or injuring passers-by with flying buttons, the gap between buttons and button holes is noticeably diminished. In fact, were it a single-breasted jacket, I should be able to wear it buttoned now and it wouldn't be tight. That would not have been true six weeks ago.

This is what's known as positive feedback, which will steady my nerves for the next six weeks of giving everything I eat a beady once-over before snarfing it down.

Once I have achieved stage one as above, stage two will to be move on to stage two, losing enough to be able to wear a jumper under it; but first things first, eh?

Last week I tried on a pair of cords that I bought a couple of years back, but which only fitted where they touched. I can wear those, too, now. Pity that they are so far beyond fashion that even I noticed. Still, one day they will be back and I shall be waiting. Ultimately I shall be able to look at myself in the mirror sideways without pan and scan...

Losing of the weight

I'm not convinced that it really shows yet as I am such a lardy chap, but there appears to be progress - quantifiable progres - in the weight loss department. I tried my leather jacket on this afternoon and while there is still significant poundage to be lost before I achieve the immediate ambition of being able to button it over a teeshirt without stifling myself or injuring passers-by with flying buttons, the gap between buttons and button holes is noticeably diminished. In fact, were it a single-breasted jacket, I should be able to wear it buttoned now and it wouldn't be tight. That would not have been true six weeks ago.

This is what's known as positive feedback, which will steady my nerves for the next six weeks of giving everything I eat a beady once-over before snarfing it down.

Once I have achieved stage one as above, stage two will to be move on to stage two, losing enough to be able to wear a jumper under it; but first things first, eh?

Last week I tried on a pair of cords that I bought a couple of years back, but which only fitted where they touched. I can wear those, too, now. Pity that they are so far beyond fashion that even I noticed. Still, one day they will be back and I shall be waiting. Ultimately I shall be able to look at myself in the mirror sideways without pan and scan...