Will You Still Love Me If I Wet The Bed? by Liz Prince

Can you tell I've been in a comic shop recently? This is a short collection of two-to-four panel rough drawing cartoons detailing the inner workings of Prince's relationship with her boyfriend. And by "inner workings," I don't mean emotional ins-and-outs, cry fests, or gossip. I mean small, almost always tender, moments between two individuals. I opened the book to a random page, loved what I read, and immediately bought the book. It took less than half an hour to read all of the comics, and I wish there were more. The thing is, I'm living the ones that haven't been written.

So much of this book is familiar that I feel bad I didn't write it myself. At once, I feel relieved that there are other people out there having the most inane relationships moments, and I also feel jealous that my relationship isn't unique in that way. Here are the few sample comics I could find online, with commentary:




How real is this moment? It speaks to all kinds of things - the joy of giving mixed with the love of celebrating special days. That mixture of Liz's annoyance and Kevin's joy is so gorgeously accurate. It's not that funny, though, unless you recognize the situation from your own life. Next!




Now we're in the realm of cute, while still real! The comfortable way they're lying there should be familiar to anyone in love, and the silly little comments are hopefully familiar to everyone. This particular comic points to a physical intimacy to extends beyond sex. Here are two people so comfortable with not only their own bodies, but their bodies together, that they can refer to nipples without being crass or sexual, but just sweet and witty. Even when we cuddle, we're sexual beings. And here is the last one:




Okay, so my boyfriend's never done this to me, but I could imagine him doing so, and I know my reaction would be exactly the same. It makes me laugh. There is another comic that shows bathroom behavior I have engaged in. Liz pees in the toilet and tells Kevin, "I saved it, so you can pee in my pee," and he responds with, "Yay!"

The book isn't filled with scatology, though - don't worry. The frank attitude toward shared bathroom moments and flatulence is bitingly honest instead of frathouse comedy. And these are perhaps the most intimate comics. I can think of at least one person I know who would be turned off by this comic because of those moments, but they are the same ones that turn me right onto it. No one talks about intimacy like this: peeing in the same toilet as a kind of romance, cold nipples poking you blind as an extension of physical comfortability, and so forth. But that kind of intimacy exists. If it bothers you, there is plenty of "safe" cuddling-in-bed comics to overwhelm the very few bathroom-related ones.

One reviewer I read online said that the problem with this comic is that the moments seem as though they could only belong to this particular couple. Well, I'd like to punch that guy in the face, because more than one moment of my relationship that I thought was as private as private got was in this book.

So, I guess that makes me biased when I say that this book is completely infectious and almost entirely accurate. If you think I'm wrong, that's fine. But recommending that you read it is like asking you to peek through a little window to my own relationship. So that's kind of weird. Is there a way you could read and love this book without violating my privacy? Thanks. It's worth it.

1602 by Neil Gaiman

Whoops. I made a mistake.

I read 1602 without even a fundamental understanding of Marvel characters. I know it was a mistake, but the fact is that someone lent me this book and I couldn't bloody well hold on to the thing for a year while I immersed myself in the Universe de Marvel. I just had to plow through it in less than a week and hope that I got something out of it.

And I did. I'm not sure what it was, though. The plot was confusing, because so much of the action was character-based and I understood so little of the characters. The premise is quite brilliant, though, and many times I felt I was giving the book a disservice by reading it (unfamiliar with the characters as I was).

There is definitely the feeling that something good is going on, though. The artwork is just beautiful - the drawings of Queen Elizabeth in particular. The visual components alone are worth picking the book up. The writing, when it wasn't knee-deep in something I couldn't understand, was fluid and realistic.

What I was familiar with was joyful. The Fantastic Four's origin story was wonderful, Peter Parker was a bit of a tease but still fun, the Phoenix story retelling was intriguing, and the reincarnation of Captain America as a Native American is nothing short of inspired.

I'm still finding my feet when it comes to any sort of graphic novel. I probably made a mistake by starting with Watchmen, which I'm only going to have so long to adore before it's cut to pieces in a movie. It was so excellent that I don't want to see it in a movie, the format perfectly fit the material. But this isn't a post about Watchmen.

If I owned 1602 I would lend it to someone who is more familiar with Marvel than I am, and I am sure they would enjoy it, if they have any love for innovation or alternate history. I would recommend it to my father, if his knowledge of comic book characters is what I think it is.

Sorry, what I have to say about these comics isn't very insightful. I'm just more comfortable and familiar with the standard fiction genre, the one with paragraphs instead of panels. Not to say I'm abandoning graphic novels; in fact, I enjoy them very much. I just, in good conscience, pretend to be an expert on them the way I can with general fiction.

I am, however, an expert on what I like, and I liked the parts of 1602 that I could understand, which leads me to believe that the other parts are just as, if not more, likable. At least to someone who can appreciate them.

Fables: Animal Farm by Bill Willingham

Here we go.

The concept is starting to pick up steam here, as the author introduces a political aspect to the fable world. Although "the farm" is only mentioned in passing in Volume 1, it is the main setting in this volume. By the end of Exile, we're familiar with the human fables living in New York city, and now we learn details about the farm upstate where all of the non-human fables are sent/forced/able to live. This group would include the Jungle Book characters, the Three Little Pigs, giants, dragons, and so forth.

As the title implies, there is a political upset in the works. Although the farm is well-tended, the animals are beginning to feel as though they are living in a prison. A plan to take over the city-headquarters is underway and Snow White steps right in the middle of it during her annual visit.

This is a far more interesting book than the first one. We get some minor action back in the city, but almost everything is focused on just the farm and its animals. The political rhetoric is appealing and familiar, though. It isn't anything you haven't heard before: they won't accept us because we're different but we'll show them. That kind of thing.

Animal Farm gives the Fables series a chance to show us for the first time the characters' capacities for violence. This makes for some great paneling, and for completely new visions of The Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks, and so forth. Their threats are very real, and there are a number of surprises in the plot.

Again, this installments suffers in ways similar to the first one: the idea is interesting, but there isn't nearly enough expansion on it. The hope is that Willingham has something much grander in the works, and that these early volumes are planting seeds for more complicated action down the line.

Personally, I found the plot too straight-forward. Characters are developing slowly so, for the time being, their actions aren't very surprising or enlightening. Snow White does use this plot line to prove that she's bad ass, if a bit of a crybaby at times. If you were wondering why she would be the one in charge of organizing the other fables, this book gives you a few examples of why she's perfect for the job.

Overall, I wasn't terribly impressed. But that might not be necessary. To keep a series running, you don't have to constantly impress, you just need to constantly hint that whatever it is the last volume left to be desired will show up in the next volume. Because the premise is just so interesting, this series succeeds. Although I haven't purchased it yet, the third volume is somewhere on my list. Unfortunately, there is a good chance I won't actually get to it, precisely because I've been let down twice in a row now. Third time's a charm, I guess. And if it isn't, I may quit. It's possible I'm not cut out for long-running series.

Fables: Legends in Exile by Bill Willingham

From Dawn to Decadence is an intensely heavy read, so for spots of lightness I decided to read a few graphic novels. This was the first.

Undoubtedly, this comic has a great premise. Fairy tale characters (ranging from Snow White to Jungle Book characters) are exiles in modern-day New York. They're immortal, sort of, and are living in the shadow of an unspecified adversarial attack on their homelands. Snow White is essentially the mayor of these people, at least in the city. The Big Bad Wolf is Bigby Wolf, the detective. Bluebeard is there, and so are Beauty and the Beast and Little Boy Blue, and so forth.

The first installment serves to introduce us to the characters through the disappearance and possible murder of Rose Red (Snow White's sister). This world provides us with all sorts of interesting side notes. Beauty and Beast need marriage counseling, because when Beauty loves Beast less than usual, he becomes more physically beastly than usual. A good twist on the old concept.

Still, this comic left something to be desired. By the last page, it felt as though the story had only gotten started. It was disappointing. Bigby's detective skills are promising, and the fact that any actions "before the exile" aren't supposed to be recognized leads to some difficulties. Based on fairy tales, we know what certain characters' traits are, but those exact tales can't be used in choosing suspects.

The artwork is good, especially the chapter titles. The writing, however, is a little simple. The dialogue is heavy with exposition and hopefully this is only a symptom of the first installments.

There's a very good idea hiding within this comic, but its possibilities aren't realized here. If you're interested, it would be best to read from the beginning (as it usually is), but don't expect to be blown away.

I Love You, Beth Cooper by Larry Doyle

"For all its obsessive analysis, Denis's Biggest Brain had neglected to consider two relevant facts. Big Brains often have this problem: Albert Einstein was said to be so absentminded that he once brushed his teeth with a power drill. But even Einstein (who, according to geek mythology, bagged Marilyn Monroe) would not have overlooked these facts; even Einstein's brain, pickling in a jar at Princeton, would be able to grasp the infinitudinous import of these two simple facts, which now hung over Denis's huge head like a sword of Damocles -- or to the non-honors graduates, like a sick fart.

The two incontrovertible, insurmountable, damn sad facts were these:

Beth Cooper was the head cheerleader;

Denis Cooverman was captain of the debate team."

This may not be the most groundbreaking book you can read, but it is certainly one of the most likable. The hardcover shows a drawing of a scared, excited, sweating, generously nervous guy with a thought bubble declaring, in capital letters, "I LOVE YOU, BETH COOPER." The capitals are just a font choice, a very appropriate one.

It's a cliche, to be sure: the debate team captain and all-around science-geek has had a long-standing crush on the head cheerleader and most popular girl in school, whom he has sat behind in nearly all of his classes. The book opens with his, Denis's, graduation speech, wherein he declares the title of the book. The plot develops from there.

The action develops dramatically and quickly. The more violent scenes are truly outrageous and very effective - you worry for the character at the same time you know he's going to be fine. The relationships between the characters move at the perfect pace for teenagers, and reminds me of how much, or little, it took to feel connected to a peer at that age.

Doyle really does cover every stop along the way: nerdy protagonist with hapless best friend and helpless love for beautiful girl who barely knows he's alive. Drinking, drugs, sex, violence, reckless driving, and so forth, ensue. There's even a wonderfully tiny subplot focused on Denis's parents.

This novel is the literary equivalent of film's love for "teen comedy" ala John Hughes. It's the golden age of 80s teenage-representation, but this time in print. True to its genre, the book starts each chapter with a simple quote from well-known cinematic teenagers such as Max Fischer and Lloyd Dobler. It's a simple, easy, safe structure, but unless you have green criticism coursing through your veins, you'll love it anyway.

One thing this book gives you that an 80s movie has thus failed to is our protagonist's inner dialogue. Of course, we have Bueller's mugging at the camera and whatnot, but that's different from what we get here. We have a nice parallel between what Denis is actually thinking (say, calculating cancer statistics while watching Beth light a cigarette) and what he says ("I actually don't know any cancer statistics"). Although you could get a sense of such a personality on the screen, there's something very realistic about having it reinforced scene by scene. The reader understands just how smart Denis is, and just how integrated into his life learning is. He is instantly more than just a geek to the reader.

I could go on, but it's useless. Cooper is perfect (allow me to stress perfect) in what it does.

Capturing high school life can be difficult to do. Especially for someone like me (like many of us), because I never felt as though the 80s movies applied to my teenage experience. Not ever remotely. This book, however, looking back on it after a week, did an excellent job. Doyle's treatment of teenage music, culture, sociology, and mentality is spot-on. I wouldn't say that I identify with any one character, not even the main one who shares my name, but the book is played by an ensemble cast. Take all those characters together, along with the jokes that you wouldn't necessarily realize are jokes if you're still in high school yourself, and I'm in there between those two covers. We're all in there.

Ask the Dust by John Fante

This novel was hypnotizing. I don't mean that the cover has swirls reminiscent of the snake's eyes in The Jungle Book; I mean that the style and language is deliriously overpowering.

As far as writing about writers goes, Fante keeps it firmly in the realm of everyday life - when his protagonist writes, it is described as simply as when he walks. It is refreshing for an author to describe writing matter-of-factly, instead of addressing the art as though it is a lofty impossible thing, only possible locked away in solitude or under the influence of various drugs.

I grew up in the outskirts of Los Angeles, in the "flat plain" of the San Fernando Valley. Regardless, I've always felt close to the culture and history of Los Angeles proper. I have a soft spot for it, so forgive me. Fante's descriptions of Los Angeles are beautiful, especially when they are directed at the less beautiful aspects of the city and its people.

One reviewer of this book said that it was definitely not recommended reading for the young, and even though I am relatively young, I would agree with this statement. I first read this book about nine or ten years ago and, honestly, I didn't know what all the fuss was about. I simply failed to understand its psychological nuances. Now that I am much closer to the protagonist's age, his thoughts, moods, delusions, and hopes are all more understandable, more realistic, and more heartbreaking than they possibly could have been while I still lived under my parents' roof.

Fante's main character, Arturo Bandini, is a writer who is struggling more in the sense of affording food than coming up with ideas. He has a proper amount of contradiction in his personality. I feel that too many characters are without internal conflict, and it's hard to identify with people who always seem to feel one way all the time. Bandini vacillates between delusions of grandeur and self-loathing, love and hate for his culture, simple enjoyment of Los Angeles and melancholy for its people. The palm trees that are so surprisingly gorgeous that he simply must sit underneath them and nap all afternoon, are, in a later chapter, sadly trapped in concrete while they suffocate under dust and car exhaust. Only sometimes does Bandini fully realize the contradictions in his behavior and opinions, and his inability or unwillingness to synthesize the two sides is perhaps the most human thing about him.

Don't trust the synopsis on the back of the book - if you pick up the Harper Perennial edition, it will mislead you greatly.

What might be most notable for the "cool" young reader is that Charles Bukowski referred to Fante as "my god." There is at least one poem by ol Buk about Fante's bout with diabetes - the Harper edition contains this poem in the back. It's beautiful. You can see the influence that Fante's direct style had on Bukowski, but at no point does the knowledge of Bukowski's imminent emergence overshadow the power of Fante's writing.

Any man who describes the ground during an earthquake as "carpet over oil," is okay in my book. What is dangerous about this novel is that Fante makes writing one seem positively easy. While that might make too many amateurs jump into the pool of literature, I can't help but admit that he is the first writer in a long time (if not ever) who has made me feel as though I must take the plunge myself.

Highly recommended, especially for Los Angeles residents or natives. Or, I suppose, anyone who likes to read. The Los Angeles (do not read "Hollywood") aspect of the book is negligible unless you are directly familiar with or nostalgic for the landscapes, which I am. I might actually take a break from fiction for awhile, so that Dust can cast its shadow a little longer.

Woe is I by Patricia T. O'Conner

The subtitle for this book is, "The Grammaphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English." It might surprise you to read that my self-definition as "a grammar Nazi" has been, until now, a gross mislabeling. I can't imagine a time when I felt as racked with grammatical paranoia as I do now. It has taken me five minutes to write the preceding sentences; I normally typed words at the speed of thought.

You may be worried now. "Her tendency to correct my grammar in public will surely increase," you are saying.

Oh, it will. It certainly will. The only difference is that I have suddenly become aware of my glass house. This book is the bird shit that landed on my roof, proving to me (once and for all) that I am a fallible writer. To be more precise, I should say that it has proven my laziness and carelessness. Once I owned a computer with an electronic dictionary built in to the desktop, I began to double-check my spelling and diction on a frequent basis. Now I have another, more powerful reference.

O'Conner's voice in this book is very strong. It is what saves Woe is I from reading like any other grammar handbook. Listing outdated or misused words is terrifying because her commentary is fiery and staunch.

If you care about how you come across in your writing, you should probably pick up this book or a book very similar to it. Of course, you can't absorb every piece of advice overnight, but small things will sink in right away.

While reading, I alternated between feeling very smart and very foolish. Many distinctions I needed no help on. I was aware that a "split infinitive" was a myth, and that "it's" and "its" mean different things. For every five examples that made me feel as though I didn't need this book, there was one that made me feel as though I need ten of these books.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading this book. O'Conner's examples are fun if only because they use character names from popular fiction and film. Her love of the English language and its ability to evolve saves her from dismissal as a fussy school marm. She attacks many such dramatic English teachers and sets the bar not higher, not lower, but on an entirely different apparatus.

I plan to read this book repeatedly. It is easy to take one chapter out of context and cull only information about commas or adjectives. I especially enjoyed the list of cliched phrases and misunderstood rules.

However, I would certainly not recommend reading this book while you are in school. Paranoia about your grammar is one thing when all you do is blog (O'Conner would disagree, actually), and quite another when your writing is going to be immediately visible to someone who will review it and rank it among other examples. If you consider yourself literate, this book will hurt your feelings. But it's just trying to help.