New album from Gene England and the Comics

the hits keep coming

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115) Stretching the Heavens: The Life of Eugene England and the Crisis of Modern Mormonism by Terryl L. Givens, finished on November 21

Givens said at a lecture I attended that presses love the word crisis in the title. It wasn't his original choice.

Anyway, I've heard that Bob Rees isn't thrilled with this biography and its assertions of England's naivete. And I have to say I agree.

In Frankenstein, Victor relays the monster's story to Walton in the monster's own words. Victor is convinced this telling justifies himself and condemns the creature. But, in fact, what Victor cannot see is that the creature's words make him sympathetic and cast Victor in a bad light.

Givens's assertions of naivete create a similar effect. It's difficult to read the evidence he lays out through the same interpretation Givens himself relies on. I don't see Gene as naive as all. What I see is a man who, even though he has been bitten a hundred times, still gives his dog another chance. Because he believes entirely in the good of the dog. And not because the dog has earned that belief. But because he chooses to live in a world where dogs are good and where this dog may yet become good. And the dog can never become good without further opportunities to choose whether or not to bite.

The first portion of this biography is a thrill-a-minute and I kept sharing details with Lady Steed about his childhood or education or marriage or mission or early career. As it goes on, the thrills slow down and the slow-moving tragedies increase. Which is exciting, I suppose, but also depressing.

Gene was the sort of prophet who comes out of the desert, rather than rises through the ranks. The tragedy was that he didn't see himself as a prophet and he did see himself as part of the ranks. Which made him doubly dangerous.

I hope many, many more books are written about this era, its characters, and Eugene England specifically. And I hope they recognize his heroism before the denouement. That he was, in fact, a hero–all the way through.

hard to believe but I think over three months


116) Seek You: A Journey Through American Loneliness by Kristen Radtke, finished on November 24

I can't remember now where I saw this recommended. Perhaps the same place In was recommended? (Nope.) Ah, well. Maybe some newspaper. Who knows.

Anyway, Radtke's work's familiar, having appeared in The New Yorker and The Believer and other reputable locations. This long book (352 thick pages—they have to be think to handle all this ink) is about loneliness, including what we know about it, what it's for, what with do for it, etc etc. It's a good book, insightful and probably helpful. The midbook aside about guns felt a bit shoehorned in, but I understand the compulsion to include it.

If nothing else, I hope people read this book just to give us a better sense of how to talk about our shared loneliness. It's a book with a lot of potential utility.

  almost three weeks
 

117) Katie the Catsitter by Colleen AF Venable and Stephanie Yue, finished on November 24

This was the only one of the Washington Post's best graphic novels of the year which I felt like immediately looking for and which was also at my local library. I picked it up right away and read it to my daughter and we enjoyed it very much.

I was surprised to discover it was a superhero comic. But it's a superhero comic unlike any I've read before. It's protagonist is a young girl who just lives in a superhero world with no expectation to (or interest in) ever interact(ing) with superheros.

And so when she gets involved with 217 hypertalented cats, no telling where it might go.

The book attempts to follow the set of emotion beats exemplified by Roller Girl but her "real life" isn't really the point of the book. Even though a lot of pages are invested in her friendships, the book is never half so interested in them as it is in the cats and the more mysterious connections those cats have to the outside world. And those aspects of the book are endlessly fun and delightful. The ending to that portion is satisfying. The friends-plot resolution barely makes sense.

Anyway! Expect a sequel next year!

how long goes here
 

120) The Crossroads at Midnight by Abby Howard, finished on November 27

This collection of short horror tales is solid. Each one, conceptually, is strong. The weakness is Howard's ability to write children and youth. Unquestionably, the best story is the final one. Not coincidentally, it is the only one to give no speaking lines to anyone under twenty-five.

Abby Howard is the author or Junior Scientist Power Hour, a strip I'm aware of and sometimes remember to visit when I'm incredibly bored and staring at the bottom of an xkcd page. (This is not an insult—there are just too many good webcomics to remember them all.) He's every bit as good at this longer form and I hope he keeps with it.

I don't know how this was marketed, but I found it in my library's YA GN section, so I suspect all those youthful characters throughout the book were seen as a feature, not a bug. Were I his editor, I would suggest otherwise.

two days
 

121) "Did You Hear What Eddie Gein Done?" by Harold Schechter and Eric Powell, finished on November 30

Another fine comic about an American killer to place alongside My Friend Dahmer and Green River Killer. Those two stand out because they were about recent crimes (relatively speaking) and written by people indirectly connected to the incidents (Dahmer's high school friend and, in Ridgway's case, the detective's son). The story of Gein (which, I learned, and probably not for the first time, is pronounced geen) takes place a bit too far in the past for that. But they've clearly done their research (as promised) and they've also engaged in a bit of speculation that makes a great deal of sense, viz. that Gein's evil may best be explained as a religion of his own making. Not that he necessarily thought of it that way, but it seems to fit the evidence.

The story is sad and horrifying, grotesque and pathetic, perplexing and explanatory.

It is, in short, an excellent work of comics nonfiction. And you can get it for much cheaper than I paid. (But yours won't be signed.)

two days


122) City of Saints by Andrew Hunt, finished on December 4

This book came out almost a decade ago and, if I remember correctly, escaped the AML's notice upon first release. Not until Mette was proudly publishing her LDS-themed, nationally published mystery novel. City of Saints would lead to two sequels, A Killing in Zion and Desolation Flats, but I'm not sure I even heard of them before I was lifting this issue of the cover from Amazon. Why not?

The second of Mette's novels was the end of my reading them (review). I don't see me reading more from this series either, but for simpler reason. Though I imagine Hunt improves, this novel (which won the Tony Hillerman Prize!) has a lot of rookie errors I wouldn't expect from a Macmillian-edited book—a couple weird repetitions, a couple details that get time shifted—little things, but still.

The book's lead, Deputy Art Oveson, is a worthy creation with some trauma he's working through and a big Mormon family. Some of the psychological issues which force him to work the case in a more detective-novel-friendly way feel a tad contrived, though they come together nicely in the end.

The story's based on an actual and once nationally famous Salt Lake murder. You can read more.

Let's also mention briefly the Mormon content which is pervasive but incidental. Hunt's public face makes it really difficult to tell if he's LDS himself. And the 1930s are just alien enough, it can be difficult to tell if something it accurately period or simply wrong. But with few exceptions, I was happy to accept these aspects of 1930 SLC. If any experts have read the novel, I'd love their take.

Finally, no—the reason I'm unlikely to read more is that I simply rarely read more. Certainly, if A Killing in Zion falls into my lap, I'll give it a shot. But the world is filled with books. I enjoyed this brief journey and I am ready to move on.

how long goes here


123) The Deadliest Bouquet by Erica Schultz and Carola Borelli, et al.; finished December 11

A comic sized and issued like a traditional comic you'd see on display at the comics store. A familiar set-up—three sisters raised to be assassins, by an assassin mother. But this one leans into the horror and never pretends anyone here is a superhero. And its ending is much more aligned with, say, a novel, rather than a serial comic that, no matter its protestations, is always planning on dragging the story out for decades.

(I've never told you about Comics' Greatest World. Four four-issue miniseries. Classic 90s comics hype. But I thought they were all terrifically written and I eagerly purchased each sixteen issues. I felt I had been promised a satisfying arc—beginning, middle, and end. But then the final issue, instead of resolving, rolled over into a new [and endless] comics continuum. I was so angry. Betrayed. I could see why it made sense commercially, but artistically, it was a disaster. I never bought another issue. And considering how the entire enterprise collapsed immediately following, I must not have been alone in my opinion.)

Anyway, this was a solid piece of work! It's not Great Art and I doubt we'll be talking about it in ten years, but I wouldn't be surprised if this writer goes on to keep making things we should talk about.

three nights