Tag Archive for: graphic novels

The Great Gatsby: A Graphic Novel Adaptation by K. Woodman-Maynard, based on the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Just so you know where I’m coming from, I’m not a fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald.  Being introduced by way of forced dissection of a lesser known novel in literature class did not help.  I’m amazed that I kept reading American literature after that, I was so turned off by the experience.  I shudder recalling it.

This is a redemption story, however.  Thanks to author and illustrator K. Woodman-Maynard’s illustrated adaptation of The Great Gatsby, I’ve remembered the importance of second chances and have been reminded that looking at things from someone else’s perspective can open the door to understanding.

Instead of presenting a literal, paragraph-by-paragraph depiction of Fitzgerald’s work, Woodman-Maynard blends a dreamy, evocative art style with passages of text to capture the mood of the novel.  Using a combination of watercolor and digital media, she brings the story to life concisely, accessible to a 21st-century audience without sacrificing its tone or message. 

Her art is ethereal–a wash of watercolor, usually one or two colors each spread save for the party scenes, flowing across the page and shaped by light inkwork.  I felt as if I were part of the privileged dreamscape inhabited by Gatsby & Company, following the crowd from one mansion to another in search of the bigger picture.  

Shapes flow around the panels much as the watercolor does.  Draperies and table linens and fashionable clothing swirl and dip and twirl in a perpetual breeze.  A scene in the first chapter describes two women lounging in a solarium on a spring day, “buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon.  It was as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house.”  Woodman-Maynard takes them on that flight, the women and the draperies on enormous French doors air swimming in circles until the ladies float gently to rest on a massive couch.  Swirls and waves and circles appear throughout–as clouds, ocean surf, tree branches, champagne bubbles, garlands of paper lanterns.  Text floats, too, in clouds and on the surf, and is found hanging in trees, wrapped around furniture, plastered on buildings, and looming in the shadows.

Colors are muted, thin in places, with even the bolder shades feeling somehow languorous.  Yellow pops up in party scenes and times of gaiety or when the characters remember happy times or try to forget their current emptiness.  Yellow pairs with blue when possibilities appear, when there is promise and hope.  Red and pink and blue and purple populate the bulk of the panels, shifting in depth and tone along with the narrative.  Blue and green bookend the story on the cover, the title page, and the last panel.  Grey and brown permeate scenes with characters outside the privileged social circle.

The Great Gatsby: A Graphic Novel Adaptation blew me away with its aching beauty.  It made me want to try the original novel–something I never thought I would do.  I almost didn’t pick up Woodman-Maynard’s adaptation because of my negative experience with the original.  I’m very glad that I did, and I’m glad to experience the novel from a different perspective.

Graphic novel adaptations (including manga, Japanese-style comics) of literary works have the ability to engage readers without completely divorcing them from the text or veering drastically off-course with the story.  They can enrich literature for students and everyone else by making it easier to visualize the plot, characters’ inner thoughts and motivations, and a variety of other story elements.  Readers can discover new ways of interacting with the text which, in turn, can enhance understanding of setting, tone, symbolism, and more.

Woodman-Maynard’s take on The Great Gatsby is a valuable tool for high school and college students, and it offers an accessible entry point for adults to enjoy graphic novels or literary works.  I read it using the Libby app which provides easy enjoyment of the text with full-screen, two-page spreads in an uncluttered viewing area.  There’s no intruding dashboard or progress marker blocking the art; those appear at the reader’s convenience.  The Library has a growing collection of illustrated literary works in both electronic and paper formats.  Whether it’s through Libby and Hoopla or on the shelves, there are titles for adults, kids, and teens to explore.  Happy reading!

Illustrated Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

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Poe: Stories and Poems, a Graphic Novel Adaptation, by Gareth Hinds

Steampunk Poe, illustrated by Zdenko Basic and Manuel Sumberac

Halloween’s almost here, and I can’t wait!  October’s put me in the mood for spooky reads despite the fact that the scariest thing I can handle are the sharks in Finding Nemo.

Edgar Allan Poe is the answer.  He’s a master of suspense, originator of chilling mysteries, and definitely meets any seasonal wish for an eerie atmosphere .  Although many of his works are considered horror classics, I am able to read “The Raven” and still sleep at night.

Searching for Poe’s works, I ran across a surprising variety of different versions–films, retellings, audiobooks, graphic novels–including a concept album by the Alan Parsons Project.  (Who knew?)  There’s certainly more than one way to interact with a text.  Sometimes an unexpected approach to a story or poem–especially a classic–can open the door for a skeptical reader.

To that end, here are two visual adaptations to enjoy.  Think of it as Poe prepared two ways: lightly illustrated and fully drawn.

In Steampunk Poe, Croatian illustrators Zdenko Basic and Manuel Sumberac sprinkle the book with full-color art emphasizing the shadowy world of Edgar Allan Poe’s works.  Dark browns, greys, and greens pair with lots of black and highlights of oil-rubbed bronze to reinforce the steampunk aesthetic.  Steampunk–the sci fi subgenre depicting advanced technology as if it were based in 19th century steam-powered machinery–lends itself to Poe’s creepier stories.  Basic and Sumberac populate their illustrations with plenty of gears, cogs, wheels, and pulleys, particularly as frames.  And, they punch up red as an accent to great effect.  In the final image for “The Masque of the Red Death” (one of my favorites), a giant Death hooded in a primitive gas mask, wearing a blood-soaked white gown and ermine-trimmed crimson robe towers in front of a full moon playing a colossal puppet master to the distant, fog-shrouded city below.

Steampunk Poe serves up Poe’s original stories and poems in an easier-to-read format without changing any of his text.  The usual suspects appear along with a few unfamiliar titles (“The Spectacles”, “The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether”, “The Conqueror Worm”).  Pages have plenty of white space plus double-spaced text which can increase accessibility for many readers who might be turned off by tissue-thin paper filled with microscopic fonts.  Trust me, the adage “you eat with your eyes” applies just as much to the consumption of books as it does to food.

Artist Gareth Hinds provides a visual feast for readers in Poe: Stories and Poems, a Graphic Novel Adaptation.  His mixed media illustrations evoke the macabre horror of seven of Poe’s best known works without stooping to gratuitous gore.  Each entry has its own style down to the texture and color scheme.  The final panel of “Annabel Lee” reads like a Roz Chast cartoon with extra-vibrant hues.  A sky the color of a KC Royals jersey offsets the luminous, white sand castle shrine punctuated by seashell mermaids and grottos, all of it the life’s work of the narrator who has built his final resting place in front of the sepulchre doors.  “The Cask of Amontillado” depicts the ossuaries of the Paris catacombs, skulls and femurs stacked everywhere, with long, deliberate brushstrokes covering a gritty surface reminiscent of a trowel scraping mortar.  Texture is key in “The Tell-Tale Heart” where grainy stippling depicts the descent into murderous madness, growing rougher as the thumping heart grows louder.  The book ends with “The Raven”, Edgar Allan Poe himself as the narrator accompanied by pencil drawings blended to a fuzzy, dreamlike patina.  Just when it seems this is a straightforward rendering, a closeup of the bird reveals skulls and claws and bony hands hidden in its feathers.  Hinds throws in more visual treats as the poem progresses, culminating in a pair of exquisite two-page spreads you absolutely have to see for yourself.

Hinds is skilled at engaging students with Western classics via graphic novels.  Here, he adds valuable resources that help make Poe more easily understood. A three-page “Author’s Note” includes a brief biography of Poe plus background information on each selection.  “The Poe Checklist” outlines a series of icons used at the start of each title to identify recurring motifs in the text.

If you’re new to the mysteries of Edgar Allan Poe’s creepy universe, these titles are a great place to start.  They’re equally great access points if you read Poe because you had to the first time around.  Whether his stories and poems are in words or pictures (or both), Poe’s tales can make your flesh crawl and your spine tingle.  Either book would be great for adults and for teens in upper middle school and older.  Although both titles use Poe’s original texts, each version offers possibilities for students wishing for a less painful way to read an assigned classic.  You can discover these and other spooky tales at the Library or through our electronic resources.  Happy reading!

Almost American Girl, written and illustrated by Robin Ha

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Area schools have been in session for a week or so now, and the air around the Library’s Teen Department has been filled with equal parts excitement and trepidation all month.  There have been a lot of butterflies, whether it’s the start of band camp or sports practice or middle school or senior year.

Middle school is usually a fraught topic every August–people going there for the first time, people hoping to start over in a new grade, people leaving it to navigate the uncharted waters of high school.  There’s a lot at stake in middle school even in the best of circumstances.

Now imagine the shock of going back to middle school then heading out on a family vacation at semester break only to discover that the “vacation” means starting over at a new school in a new country where you don’t speak the language or understand the culture and the only people you know are the surprise step-relatives you’ve just been introduced to.  Plus, you weren’t able to say goodbye to your friends and they (along with all of your clothes and possessions) are half a world away.

That’s exactly what happened to Robin Ha, author and illustrator of Almost American Girl.

Ha is now a cartoonist based in Washington, D.C.  When she was in eighth grade, her mother took her on a short trip to Alabama which turned out to be a permanent move to a house full of strangers.  Ha’s mother married a divorced father of two saddled with a failing fish market, living with his brother’s family (including their traditional Korean mother).  It was a far cry from the life Robin and her mom had carved out for themselves in Seoul, South Korea–except for many of the conventions and attitudes embraced by their new family.

The book follows Robin’s experiences navigating the challenges of middle school, of learning a new language on the fly, and of unexpected, seemingly arbitrary relationships.  Robin’s eighth grade year unfolds chronologically with interspersed flashbacks to her life growing up in South Korea.  Narrative tension isn’t compromised because the memories are connected to experiences after the move.  Prompted by Robin’s meltdown after chafing under the in-laws’ treatment, the chapter “The Leap of Faith” unfolds the difficulties Robin and her single mother endured trying to thrive in a rigid society; the chapter ends with her mother convinced that “Whatever America is like, it will be better…” even if that translates to racism, poverty, and exclusion.

Almost American Girl follows its author’s inner and outer journeys.  It’s a beautifully drawn coming of age story that’s honest and real.  It embraces the pain and delight of adolescence, bringing readers along on the emotional roller coaster ride without being heavy-handed–a meaningful, immersive experience told in a muted palette of blues and tans and purples and reds that grows brighter and deeper as Robin’s wisdom and inner strength grow.

The book is also a love letter to comics fans, celebrating teens who draw and doodle and color and who recognize the transformative power of art.  It’s for everyone who survived adolescence (in whole or in part) thanks to comic books, manga, art supplies, and pads of paper.  Find your niche, and chances are good that you’ll find friends; with any luck, you’ll find some very good ones.

Read Almost American Girl even if you aren’t an adolescent.  (Especially if you aren’t!)  Give it to a teen who’s interested in contemporary, coming of age stories or manga and anime or Korean culture beyond K-pop or who could use a gentle affirmation.  Read it because it’s lovely and because (spoiler alert) stories can have happy endings.

You can find this title in the graphic novel section of the Teen Department or as an ebook through the Library’s OverDrive service.

A Pair of Comics–Classics and Cats

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Long Story Short: 100 Classic Books in Three Panels by Lisa Brown

Cats of the Louvre by Taiyo Matsumoto

I had a chance to reduce my “To Be Read” (TBR) pile by a handful of titles over the holidays, including some comics and graphic novels. Two of the books took an interesting approach using art to comment on other creative works.

Author and illustrator Lisa Brown’s Long Story Short: 100 Classic Books in Three Panels left me in stitches. I love her ability to distill hefty literary works into a trio of illustrated boxes and a sharply-penned sentence. C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe becomes “Don’t take Turkish delight from strangers.” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire is boiled down to “It’s all fun and games until you have a kid.” Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle shows all the gory details of sausage making with a single word in each panel, “DON’T. EAT. MEAT.”

Brown’s pen is equally sharp when it comes to illustrations. She uses india ink on paper then colors digitally with a muted palette of earth tones, grey, and dusty blues, reds, and olive greens. When she uses a bright color–as she does for The Scarlet Letter–it’s with great effect. Picture two panels in drab browns and blacks except for the pop of white collars and a bright red “A” on the subject, “Adulteress” for Hester Prynne and “Apostate” for Rev. Dimmesdale. The payoff is in the last panel bathed in a bright red background with a white “A” for “Aftermath” above Pearl’s blonde hair and bubblegum-pink dress.

Long Story Short packs volumes (and massive spoilers) in only 65 pages. There’s a lot to take in, including amusing cross-references to other chapters. (In case you’re wondering, it’s “horror” for The Jungle.) The book’s well worth a return trip or two or three if only to catch all of the little touches. While it’s no substitute for reading an assignment, Long Story Short works as a humorous accompaniment. Give this book to a favorite English major or someone who appreciates dry wit; suggested for high school and up.

If I were giving the same treatment to my second selection, it would sound something like this, “Paintings are real. Life is surreal. Also cats.” Cats of the Louvre by Taiyo Matsumoto is not about a feline photo shoot or real-life museum cats. It is a gorgeously illustrated, surreal meditation on time and the nature of art itself.

The narrative structure–calling it a plotline is a stretch–weaves multiple stories into a surreal tale following a group of cats living in the museum’s attic, an art conservator restarting her life after a loss, a little girl who has lives in a painting, and a night watchman searching for his sister who mysteriously disappeared in childhood. Each story threads its way through the world of the Louvre where characters intersect with each other and with the art. Dialogue and visual metaphors point to Matsumoto’s thoughts on time’s fleeting nature and art’s immediate and lasting beauty.

Matsumoto’s black and white inkwork looks a lot more like a sketchbook (a refined, very accomplished one) than a graphic novel for a commercial audience. Panel lines appear hand-drawn, slightly uneven and varying in thickness while his shading and crosshatching lend the stories a hazy, dreamlike quality. He creates charming, lifelike cats who take on a slightly disturbing human appearance when the story is told from their point of view. (The effect is not nearly as bad as those in the recent Cats movie.) Adding to the surreal experience are loads of extreme closeups of everything–eyes, faces, hands, paws, paintings, architecture, desktops, papers, art supplies. Even two large cat eyes look out from the book’s spine.

Reading Cats of the Louvre is like stepping into a hushed, contemplative funhouse. It’s weird. It’s surreal. It’s overflowing with metaphors and symbolism and hidden commentary and deep thoughts. It’s not meant to be pigeonholed. There is more than meets the eye; it will reward readers who come with an open mind. A good benchmark might be The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery; if you like it, try this title.

Originally a manga (Japanese comic) series, this single-volume, English edition of Cats of the Louvre is accessible as a whole or with a pause after each chapter. Like other manga, it’s meant to be read from right to left and the book begins at what Western books identify as the back cover. Give this title to teens and adults who like the surreal and have the patience to travel over 400 pages of it.  Happy reading!

Comics Fun

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Heart and Brain: Body Language by Nick Seluk

Making Comics by Lynda Barry

Buried treasure can pop up in all sorts of places–on a tropical island, in an attic trunk, at a garage sale, or in this case, on a bookshelf.  I found these delights while looking for something else.  Isn’t that the case with a lot of things in life?

If you haven’t seen cartoonist Nick Seluk’s popular webcomic “The Awkward Yeti”, find it now.  Seluk’s humorous take on the relationship between human anatomy and human nature guarantees a chuckle.  He explores life through the eyes of Lars, a socially awkward, blue-furred, and bespectacled Yeti, who is the unwitting host to a community of cheekily entertaining internal organs.  Lungs wear sweatbands and jogging gear and are ready for anything other than exercise.  Gallbladder pleadingly offers its handmade “gifts” to everyone.  Spleen resembles a glowering ninja.  Bowel is an irritable conspiracy theorist who communicates in brown speech bubbles.  It’s the back-and-forth between charmingly optimistic, emotional Heart and pragmatic, rational Brain though that fuels the fun.

In Heart and Brain: Body Language, Seluk fills the pages with relatable inner struggles (budget vs pizza, anxiety vs relaxation, planning ahead vs living in the moment) and amusing dialogue that leave readers laughing.  Heart and Brain are the engines driving Lars and the book.  One of my favorite strips shows Heart filling Brain from a jar labeled “New Experiences” then shaking Brain vigorously; Heart then turns a tap attached to Brain and fills a bucket labeled “New Ideas”.  The magic lies in seeing Heart and Brain: Body Language for yourself because trying to capture the comic’s essence is like trying to parse comedy–dissection distracts from enjoyment.  Give this title to adults and teens who like “The Far Side” or “Calvin and Hobbes” or quirky humor in general.

Although I love to read comics, I never thought I’d be able to draw them–I know my limits.  That is, until I found Making Comics by Lynda Barry.  Barry, a nationally-known comic artist, educator, and MacArthur Fellow, is on a mission to enable everyone to discover their own creative spark.

Making Comics looks like a composition book full of doodles that’s been carried around in a backpack for half of the school year.  Each page, whatever its content, is covered in drawings and border designs and lettering in dusky watercolors lending a feel of sepia-tone except in blues and reds and yellows.  Drawings–some from Barry, some from her students who range in age from preschoolers to adults–are spontaneous and raw like those found in a sketchbook.

Barry believes that everyone is capable of art, of drawing, only that some folks have lost fluency in the language of image.  According to her, children “speak image”, “this language [that] moves up through your hand and into your head”.  She notes, “we draw before we are taught.  We also sing, dance, build things, act, and make up stories…Everything we have come to call the arts seems to be in almost every 3-year-old”.  For a lot of us, something happens along the way that separates us from creativity, especially drawing, and Lynda Barry aims to rectify that.

Following the content of Making Comics in sequence is similar to Barry’s comics class, but taking the activities out of context or in a different order is just as useful.  After an introduction designed to inspire, Barry opens concepts in “Lessons” then offers lots of exploration prompts in “Exercises”.  “Assignments” are longer, more involved activities that build on previously introduced ideas, and “Homework” takes those concepts to the next level through more intricate designs.  Thoughtful passages, hints, and tips are packed into each page; read everything!

Whether you want to reclaim that innate, easy creativity or know someone who does, this title is a great choice.  It’s also a fantastic way for teens and adults to explore particularities of the comic format.  Making Comics is a rich resource for students of all ages learning at home.  Give it a try–it’s fun and freeing.

You never know what gems you might find when you’re not looking for them.  Stop by the library and discover the treasures waiting for you!

No Ivy League, written and illustrated by Hazel Newlevant

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There’s no denying that art has power. A work of art in any form can stop you dead in your tracks, take your breath away, send chills down your spine. It can elicit a bold, dramatic response–an experience so vivid that it’s as memorable as the work of art itself.

Sometimes, though, art exudes a quiet power–less shockwave and more a resonance that grows deeper and richer with time, drawing you in over and over, changing you in the process.

Hazel Newlevant’s graphic novel No Ivy League has that quiet power, wrapping it in an unassuming package. While the book appears to be a slow-moving memoir of a summer job washed in monochromatic watercolor (don’t let the full-color cover fool you), it is an exquisite glimpse at the lives of contemporary teens.

Author and illustrator Newlevant describes her first job, a summer stint with the local parks department during high school. Hazel is a seemingly average teen in Portland, Oregon, who happens to enjoy reading, video games, hanging out with her friends, and making art. She’s trying to save enough money to see her favorite band in concert in the fall, so at her parents’ suggestion she applies for a spot on one of the city’s youth conservation crews; she gets a job cleaning out invasive ivy at a park. She spends the summer learning about herself and the diverse group of people she works with, discovering that the world around her is a far bigger and more intricate place than she ever imagined.

There’s little plot description because there’s not much plot to describe. Hazel’s story is a meditative character study examining self-discovery, particularly that time when teens first realize that there is life outside their own bubble. Newlevant depicts adolescence in all its naive, cringeworthy, optimistic, angry, despairing gloriousness. In doing so, she opens Hazel’s eyes (and ours) to the shades of grey present in a previously black-and-white world. Words and actions that may seem like jokes to some may be far from it for others. Perspectives on justice and “doing the right thing” may vary widely depending on experience–experiences determined by skin color and economic opportunity. Hazel begins to see and acknowledge the differences between herself and other teens on her team, discovering that her secure, stable life isn’t universal.

Newlevant deftly weaves nuance throughout the book. The realistic dialogue (including Hazel’s interior dialogue) sounds immediate and lifelike without being over the top or trying too hard. Same goes for the art. As you read, the chapter title spreads progress from fully covered in ivy to a space almost cleared. When another teen taunts her, the laughter written on the page chases Hazel away. Invasive ivy creeps toward Hazel threatening to entangle her after being shaken to her core by a family secret. Newlevant’s work shows just enough detail to serve the story–these aren’t overly busy panels–and has a slightly misty quality (as memories do) thanks to a hazy watercolor wash.

Newlevant’s nuance is evident as she thoughtfully relates discovering the role privilege played in her upbringing, “This book is about a pivotal summer in my life. It poked a hole in my familiar bubbles and complicated my understanding of the world. It was a multi-car pileup of race, class, gender, and teen hormones…It’s incredible, believing over and over again that you’ve figured things out–only to stumble on new ways your place in society shields you from the truth. I really didn’t know anything. Maybe I still don’t.”

No Ivy League offers up its insights in quiet, thoughtful ways and leaves a quiet, thoughtful power in its wake. It’s a realistic slice of adolescent life in all of its raw, complicated messiness. This isn’t a book for readers wanting heavy, plot-driven action or a sanitized depiction of teenagers. It is a title for adults and mature teens who are patient readers interested in character development, realism, or examining society. A variety of teen lives are depicted; strong language and some sexual references are included.  No Ivy League and many other amazing memoirs in graphic novel format are available at the library. Stop by and see what we have to offer!

Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law by Haben Girma and Manga Claus: The Blade of Kringle written by Nathaniel Marunas, illustrated by Erik Craddock

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One of the things I like best about the holiday season are the stolen moments of quiet amidst the hustle and bustle–lovely, little gifts of reading or listening time when least expected, so I try to have a book of some sort at hand.  Since Thanksgiving weekend, I’ve already managed to squeeze in some titles that were on my hold list. Here are two quick (and vastly different) reads I’ve recently enjoyed and am excited to share with you.

I anxiously awaited Haben Girma’s autobiography after watching a segment on C-SPAN2’s Book TV this fall.  Her interview with host Peter Slen was engaging and entertaining, pulling me in with fascinating stories sprinkled with her great sense of humor.  Her book, Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law, did not disappoint.

Girma, whose parents immigrated to the U.S. from Eritrea and Ethiopia, grew up in Oakland, California.  She is a graduate of Harvard Law School who currently advocates for people with disabilities. She is an avid ballroom dancer, has climbed icebergs, helped build a school in Mali, surfs and kayaks, has traveled extensively, has pioneered an accessible communication system, and has spoken at the White House.  She also happens to be deafblind.

Haben (pronounced “ ‘Ha’ like ‘ha-ha’ and ‘ben’ like ‘Benjamin’ ”) is full of adventures and insights.  Girma, in her early thirties, describes her journey navigating cultures–American and Eritrean and Ethiopian, inclusionary and exclusionary–with warmth, passion, and wit.  Her voice clearly comes through with confidence and delight.

Biographies are one of my favorite genres because I get to experience the world from different perspectives, meeting interesting people on the page even if I never have the opportunity in person.  Nowhere near the end of her story, Haben Girma already has plenty of insight to offer. In addition to her travels and accomplishments, she shows what it takes to maneuver in a world designed for others, to carve out a space for daily life.  She leads by example and by thoughtful suggestions, inviting all of us to consider ways to open accessibility for people with disabilities.

Charming and astute, Haben Girma’s autobiography is an enjoyable read and a valuable one.  I can’t wait to find out the rest of her story.

What happens when you combine a disgruntled elf, hordes of teddy bears fueled by evil magic, and an author’s obsession with samurai movies?  You get, Manga Claus: The Blade of Kringle, written by Nathaniel Marunas and illustrated by Erik Craddock.  Yes, Virginia, there is a Manga Claus.  He exists as certainly as honor and loyalty and tinsel.  He wields a pair of skillfully forged samurai blades, defending Christmas from threats internal and external and coming to the rescue as surely as he delivers toys every year.

Fritz the elf resents being assigned to the laundry instead of Santa’s workshop.  In a fit of rage with his fist raised to the sky, (“I’ll show him what I can do–I’ll show them all!!!”) Fritz uses an evil spirit to animate a nutcracker in a plot to sideline the workshop.  One thing leads to another, and the evil escapes to create an army of ninja teddy bears bent on destruction. Thanks to his katana and his wakizashi, Santa transforms into Manga Claus and saves the day.

The charmingly cheesy text pairs fantastically with Erik Craddock’s action-packed, blockish-yet-expressive art in shades of red, grey, and black.  (I got a distinct classic Cartoon Network vibe from it.) This slim graphic novel moves quickly yet unveils additional visual details with every read.  It begs to be made into an animated short! It’s a delightful, campy romp that is not designed for people who take Santa seriously.  This is a great title for teens as well as graphic novel fans and folks whose favorite Christmas movies are action flicks.

I can’t wait for the other books on my hold list to come in.  Who knows what treasures will appear before the year is out! If you would like to see what titles the library offers or to place an item on reserve, take a look at our website //www.joplinpubliclibrary.org/ and click on “Search Catalog”.  Library staff are available to help whether you stop by or give us a call at 417-623-7953.  Happy reading!

Dog Man by Dav Pilkey (and other graphic novels)

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One of my favorite things about being a librarian is that I get to help people find books.  As the library director that part of my job is a bit limited, but that is where my seven-year-old son comes in.  He is learning the joy of reading, so I get to spend a lot of time helping him select books. It is a great thing!  I love that he talks to me about what book he is reading and that he has his own favorites. Right now many of them are children’s graphic novels.  

Dog Man by Dav Pilkey is his ultimate favorite and he cannot wait to read the latest one, Dog Man: For Whom the Ball Rolls (#7).  He does not even know why that title is funny, but I think Dav Pilkey does that for the parents. He knows that we need something more than potty humor to make us appreciate his clever offerings. Other titles include: Brawl of the Wild, Tale of Two Kitties and Lord of the Fleas.

You might be asking yourself, “What is a graphic novel?”  Good question. According to Merriam-Webster, “a graphic novels is a story that is presented in comic-strip format and published as a book.”  Exactly. When I was growing up I used to read Archie comics. I would have loved to have had an Archie comic that was a novel-length story.   

My son LOVES graphic novels. They are his story of choice and since there are only seven Dog Man books in publication he is always looking for something similar.    Due to the popularity of Dog Man, I think others might have a similar need so below is a list of other books that Dog Man fans might want to read.  

Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney – This book was impossible to keep on library shelves after its publication in 2007.  I remember practically every kid who visited the library during the summer of 2007 asking for this title. Author Jeff Kinney uses a journal format that includes comic drawings within the text to tell the story of Gred Heffley’s sixth grade school year.  Not a graphic novel, but has a similar feel and has a lot of humor. My son is making his way through this series now and the comic drawings within the text make him laugh out loud.

Bad Guys by Aaron Blabey –  The typical bad guy characters – Mr. Wolf, Mr. Shark, Mr. Snake and Mr. Pirahan – are trying to turn over a new leaf.  Inspired by Mr. Wolf, who started the Good Guys Club, this unlike cast of characters endeavor to perform good deeds and change their ill-doing reputations.  Rescuing a cat from a tree and freeing dogs from the dog pound are just a sampling of their heroic undertakings. Slapstick humor abounds in this offering. I am laughing now just thinking about how funny it can be to see the characters try to do good.  What is the saying, “No good deed?” If your kids are anything like my son, they will happily devour this short, quick read and beg for the rest of the series.

Lunch Lady and the Cyborg Substitute by Jarrett Krososcka – This was the first graphic novel that my son read.  I brought it home on a whim last year and he loved it! I think the combination of the cleverly drawn comic panels, the cast of characters, the humorous elements and the length of the story all made for a love match.  In this story the school’s lunch lady and her co-worker Betty, with a little help from three students, use kitchen gadgets to fight crime and serve up justice.  

I have so many others to recommend, but since I am running short of space here are a few more, sans descriptions:  

  • Zita the Spacegirl by Ben Hatke
  • 13-Story Treehouse: Monkey Mayhem! by Andy Griffiths
  • The Stone Keeper (Amulet series) by Kazu Kibuishi
  • Yeti Files by Kevin Sherry
  • Comic Squad series by various authors

And one more tidbit – the Joplin Public Library will be hosting a Graphic Novel Club for children in grades three to five starting Friday, September 27th.  The club will meet weekly, for five weeks. Participants will discuss their favorite graphic novels and comics, learn the components of graphic novels and work to make their own graphic novels. Registration is required and can be done by calling 417-623-7953.  

If your child is anything like mine, he or she will be eager to add his or her name to the sign up sheet.  

Find in Library Catalog

A Non-Fiction Variety Pack

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The Hot Young Widows Club: Lessons on Survival from the Front Lines of Grief by Nora McInerny

Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir by Ruth Reichl

The Universe Explained: A Cosmic Q & A by Heather Couper and Nigel Henbest

The Unwanted: Stories of the Syrian Refugees written and illustrated by Don Brown

Reading, like summer, can be random.  Days away from school and work open the door to the unexpected, allow the senses to notice what is hidden by everyday experience.  Surprises appear on the library shelves–new titles or those that have been circulating and were missed earlier.

I’ve stumbled upon some surprises this summer, both fruitful and not.  One was pleasant, an amazing story which lived up to its buzz. One, much to my disappointment, did not.  One snuck up on me, and one made me cry.

The Universe Explained: A Cosmic Q & A literally threw itself at my feet while walking past it in the lobby.  It’s 281 pages of awesomeness, asking and answering questions you’ve had about the cosmos and then some.  Questions are divided into chapters covering the seen (celestial bodies, space exploration, technology) and the unseen (alien life, black holes, the universe’s edge).  Each question is succinctly answered on its own page and accompanied by a full-color illustration. A helpful glossary in the back defines unfamiliar terms. Authors Heather Couper and Nigel Henbest have created an accessible book with plenty of eye-catching appeal.  Use it to answer your own questions or give it to a young person (upper elementary and older) with an appetite for reading or science or both. This would be a great title to explore as a family, sparking curiosity and discussion.

I’ve long enjoyed Ruth Reichl’s food writing; her heady descriptions of the culinary life have inspired and delighted me immensely.  I was excited to finally read her latest, Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir, covering her stint as Gourmet’s editor-in-chief and the magazine’s last days before being closed by Conde Nast.  I imagined a behind-the-scenes look at the Gourmet kitchens accompanied by lush descriptions of dishes created there, and that’s the outcome…sort of.  The book is long on magazine publishing and short on food. Reichl’s normally unhurried pace and rich description take a back seat to what sometimes feels like a breathless recitation of industry names and events by an avowed outsider trying to find her place in that world.  This is more a case of managed expectations on my part than an indictment of her writing quality. Save Me the Plums does exactly what it claims–explores Reichl’s journey into the world of luxury publishing, keeping her wit and outlook intact.  To explore what gems she has to offer, start with Reichl’s earlier memoirs or her amusing journey as the New York Times restaurant critic then come back to the rest of the story.

Don Brown has a talent for telling difficult stories using spare, strong words and pictures.  His non-fiction graphic novels have garnered acclaim and made award lists; more importantly, they engage readers and open them to experiences near and far.  Brown’s text and art are like a good movie soundtrack which doesn’t call attention to itself but lets the story take the spotlight. The Unwanted: Stories of the Syrian Refugees is no exception.  It combines thorough research with first-hand accounts to track the plight of people fleeing war and death.  The art–pen and ink with digital paint–conveys struggle and desperation in watercolor greys and sepia tones.  The few bright spots are oranges and reds of explosions. Seemingly simplistic, the illustrations and spare text pack are moving.  Brown includes background information, research notes, and a bibliography at the end. Give this to teens and adults with an interest in current events or history or start a conversation with a teen who may have only heard of this in passing.  Also, try Brown’s other acclaimed graphic novels for teens exploring the Dust Bowl and Hurricane Katrina.

Reading Nora McInerny’s book The Hot Young Widows Club: Lessons on Survival from the Front Lines of Grief knocked me for a loop.  I haven’t cried that hard over a book since Where the Red Fern Grows in the 5th grade.  This is a 91-page grief memoir packing a gigantic, emotional gut punch.  It’s also a life preserver for the bereaved and a handy tool for those who aren’t at the moment.  (Because, as the author points out, “Here is one important thing we all have in common: literally everyone we know and love will die.”)  McInerny experienced a miscarriage plus the deaths of her father and husband within 7 weeks of each other. Afterward, she and another woman founded the titular club; along the way, she’s gathered observations, advice, and encouragement into a valuable resource for all of us.  McInerny’s forthright, concise style is packed with humor and sass. She offers support, space, and survival tips to those who are grieving and concrete advice to those who want to help but don’t know how. If you are grieving or know someone who is, try this book–it has so much to offer.

Hoopla electronic resources

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This week, instead of writing a book review, I wanted to take a minute to introduce a new service for Joplin Public Library patrons. It’s called Hoopla, and it’s a great way to use a variety of electronic resources. Whether you need audiobooks for your commute, want to preview the newest Ariana Grande album, or want to watch a documentary, Hoopla has something for you to enjoy.

Hoopla is similar to Overdrive, the library’s other primary source of eBooks. With Hoopla, you can check out eBooks and eAudiobooks using your library card. However, Hoopla also offers movies, television shows, graphic novels, and music. Hoopla has a wide selection of items for all ages and interests. There’s even a “Kids Mode” setting parents can use to help kids make age-appropriate reading choices. Finding content for the whole family is super easy.

The eBooks and eAudiobooks work similarly to other services. You choose what you want to read, and download it to your device. You can customize the eBook display to what suits your needs best with font sizes and screen color. The eAudiobooks are very easy to use, also. I do wish, however, that the chapters of the eAudiobooks were divided into separate tracks. But, the app will remember where you stop your audiobooks and resume playing where you left off.

The movies available through Hoopla cover an impressive range. From cult classics like the original Suspira to new releases like the amazing documentary RBG, there is certainly something for everyone. Looking for kid-friendly Halloween movies? There’s a category for that. Looking to host a vampire-themed Halloween party? There’s a category for that, too.

Can’t get enough PAW Patrol? Hoopla has you covered. There are plenty of great selections to help keep kiddos happy during road trips over the upcoming holiday season. But there are plenty of options for the adults, too, like Miss Marple and Doc Martin, and if you’re looking to get your heartrate up, pretty much everything Jillian Michaels has released. Looking to learn? Check out the offering from the Great Courses series, which can teach you about pretty much anything you’re interested in, from yoga to robotics.

I love the comics Hoopla offers. Again, the selections cover all age ranges and interests. But it’s how easy they are to read that really makes me love using them. You don’t need a huge e-reader to get the most out of Hoopla’s comics. You can read them in page view, but Hoopla also breaks down each page so you can read them panel by panel, which is great for reading on your phone or for those with visual impairments.

Using Hoopla is also incredibly easy. You can access with an app or at www.hoopladigital.com. You can even access Hoopla with a TV service like Apple TV or Roku. Just create your account, using whatever e-mail address you prefer, you library card number, and your library card PIN number. And then, voila! Access to thousands of electronic resources.

My favorite thing about Hoopla? No waiting list. That’s right. If you see something you want, it’s yours to check out right away. My least favorite thing about Hoopla? The monthly limit on items. I’ll be honest, it has to do with the Library’s budgetary constraints. We only have so much money to spend on Hoopla. But this circles back to another great Hoopla feature. You can add items to your “favorites” list and come back to them when the next month comes around.

Whether you’re an experienced eBook reader or just getting started with the format, I think Hoopla is a great service to use. There are so many options that you’re sure to find something you love. Plus, their content is updating constantly, so there’s always something new to discover. Get started today at www.hoopladigital.com!

Review by: Leslie Hayes