I likely will be the only person mentioning Zora Neale Hurston’s THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD when reviewing this graphic novel, but it kept coming to mind. There is a passage at the heart of that wonderful book that describes humanity as once being one great glittering mass that jealous angels beat down into tiny bits of sparkle, buried and lost in the mud that still sing out and seek each other to be whole again. A lovely description of how we as humans clutch at many things to try and make ourselves whole, often to our own detriment—sometimes to our own destruction. The narrative of THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD takes the main character many places, but ultimately she ends up where she started—though wiser and stronger for the journey. In LUNA PARK, this circular pattern is repeated toward no good end for its characters. While Hurston’s work retains hope despite admitting a certain futility, LUNA PARK seems only to despair. The desperation that drives it’s characters to find each other creates a dark inescapable momentum that carries them past the finish line into another lap ‘round the track. The joy in this joyless world is in the vivid rendering of the journey—particularly the dark and lovely art work of Danijel Žeželj. The subtle distinctions that make each face unique—specifically the three significant women in the narrator’s life—all dark, lovely and strong yet individuals. The whole book is a dark passage, the use of partial light throughout gives the book the feel of memory—smothered and inescapable. Enjoyed the writing as well, conveying a lot with a little. The dialogue was both natural and foreboding and aching with grief. Choices once made are often inescapable, linking personal history to moments of world history gives them the feeling of destiny. A looping narrative could feel redundant or like a trap, but each journey through LUNA PARK feels like a fresh hell.

This wonderful little novel by Shirley Jackson is magic. The basic tenet of magic is transformation. Here one moment, somewhere else the next or one thing becomes another—simple mechanics. The art of magic, as with any story, is disguising the path traveled so that there are no explanations. When David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear, his showmanship disguised that he slowly rotated the stage so that when the curtain was dropped the audience was suddenly looking where the statue never was. In much the same way, our attentions are drawn away from but constantly brought back to the main character Eleanor. When the novel begins, she is described as the simplest of characters. Nothing much to see beyond the obvious—as if she were lit by a hundred candles, enough light to reveal if anything of interest was there. The creepy house and the other characters are much more vivid and draw us away. Yet the author keeps coming back to Eleanor, and each time she does Jackson snuffs out a candle or two so that Eleanor appears just a little different—maybe a shade darker, or maybe just a little more human. The change each time is as subtle as that and mostly only noticed in retrospect. Neither the reader nor the other characters pick up on this right away—though you could argue that Hill House sees it all. Hill House pulls off its own magic trick. The tropes of traditional haunted house stories are brought out—loud noises, disappearing rooms, mysterious messages—as if the house is distracting everyone from what is really going on. Meanwhile, a few more candles are snuffed out by the author and Eleanor strikes a different shade. The greatest trick of all here may be that Shirley Jackson is such a beautiful writer that her language mesmerizes. So, by the end, when the last candle has been snuffed out, both Eleanor and the reader are equally shocked to find themselves where they are. The other characters look on in dumb shock. Hill House looks on as it always has. Magic.

I am particularly partial to Richard Matheson--largely because he has managed to set up shop in several different genre's and produce fine and sometimes fantastic work. I was initially drawn to China Mieville because I had read that he also moves from genre to genre. Even more interesting, while bringing his marvelously odd and unique touch to each genre--he seems to be tearing the walls down that separate those genres so he can run free from one to the next. Certainly a lot of walls came down while reading KRAKEN. So many ideas and characters came flying at me that often I felt like I was dodging debris from an explosion. At once fantasy, science fiction, horror, mystery, mythology and comedy and yet not any of those things. The author I thought of most while reading KRAKEN was Thomas Pynchon. Both authors use many disparate elements to create their texture and their use of humor does not seem for humor's sake but more to point out that life is like that--cruel humor abounds. More surprisingly I also thought of Chester Himes. Within Himes crime novels, the city of Harlem has a pulse and breaths and seems to have a say so as to the fates of its inhabitants. In KRAKEN, London is really the main character from mundane to magnificent. It is London where the fate of the world will be decided, where a villain exists as a living tattoo and angels are made of glass, secret streets exist between other streets, and many and various cults worshipping everything from squid to ferret to the great sea (the sea by the way has a house in a middle class neighbor hood). And it all seems to draw it's power from London itself. There are normal people in KRAKEN but they do not remain so. Once they get a taste of what's going on, they become something else. Something more. I look forward to reading more by Mievell.

Born in the last year of the Baby Boomers (1946-1964), I have always felt drawn back before my time to the 50’s and 60’s as if caught in a generational undertow. I was more aware of the television, movies and even music of those years than most people my age. This extended to the a new type of comedy that developed from the early 50’s thru the 60’s. As a kid I was not attracted to the brash, loud and often cartoonish comedians that dominated—even today I am less drawn to the three ring circus than I am to the quiet guy in the corner cracking wise. I remember hearing and loving routines by STILLER & MEARA, BOB & RAY, BOB NEWHART, SHELLY BERMAN, and NICHOLS & MAY on the radio (when radio wasn’t all sports and top 40). They all wove stories that I could visualize. Not designed merely to deliver punchlines every 15 seconds, these routines created characters that lived and breathed. I was invited into the world where these characters lived instead of being kept at arms length. This book chronicles that transition from the loud to the observational, from the broad to the personal—when machine guns were replaced by sniper rifles.

The majority of the book consists of thoroughly researched critical biographies of the artists leading this transition—including Lenny Bruce, Woody Allen, Dick Gregory, Phyllis Diller, & Joan Rivers. The Joan Rivers section in particular is fascinating—even though the reader is aware of her ultimate success, her path was so difficult that you remain stunned every time she succeeds. The lengths vary depending upon the importance, longevity and impact of the artist, but I never felt cheated that one was too short and only once or twice did one feel too long. Each is well crafted balancing the personal with the professional and their influence upon each other. The author teases out from each comedian’s personal life the source and force behind their humor. Just enough of that humor is on display for each person to get their flavor down. While I would have enjoyed myriad more examples, the book would never have ended. Also, the humor is better served by watching or listening to the originals—much of this humor can be sampled on YouTube, etc.

The biographies are in a rough chronological order starting with the true groundbreakers like Mort Saul in the 50’s who’s observational and political humor were clear departures from the norm and something postwar Americans didn’t know they were craving. Then came others who went beyond Saul's stand up: Sid Caesar (sketch comedy), Ernie Kovacs (TV) & Stan Freberg (radio). Kovacs has always been a particular favorite of mine creating the template for humor on TV still in evidence today. Fascinating how the vast majority of these funny people functioned as comedians largely because of major dis-functions in their personal lives. The cliché of the sad clown cannot be overplayed. I dare you to read about Jonathan Winter’s childhood without some sense of shock and dismay flushing up under your skin. And those same issues that fueled their humor did not disappear upon achieving success. Most of these folks self destructed in either their personal or professional lives ultimately destroying both.

On the whole a neat new way to look at post war America—how the America that entered the war was not the same America by the end. The cookie cutter America with 101 rules of etiquette and sharply defined rules for men and women and minorities began to crumble. No accident that Rock n’ Roll exploded onto the scene around the same time and that those born right after the war would seek new forms of expression in the sixties. The first part of the book is an extensive introduction/overview that I think might have better served the book if the biographies were better categorized and then a separate intro for each section created. While there is a sense of the progression from the 50’s comics (Mort Saul, Sid Caesar, Steve Allen) to the 60’s(Dick Gregory, Bill Cosby, Smothers Brothers) comics and beyond (Richard Pryor, George Carlin--not biographied but referenced), this structure might give more flow to the evolution of American comedy. A minor quibble for a big bundle of a book that I thoroughly enjoyed.

A side note. The toughest part of the book to get through for me was the section on Bill Cosby. Given his current circumstances I had to force myself to read it—but it was interesting that the accusations against him fit quite well with the person described in the book. I’m pretty sure the author was not surprised when the allegations came to light.

A voraciously read page turner about people seemingly indifferent to the swaths of destruction they weave by loving and hating each other--ultimagely two spiders in a death struggle disguised as those beautiful people next door. A take on appearances being deceiving especially as those appearances are reflected and manipulated by popular culture. Mysteries removed to reveal other mysteries beneath make for a book difficult to put down but there are points in this book where the shifting narration is used to blind us to plot holes and differing perspectives are used to distract us from gaps in logic but be that as it may-- a heck of a ride. Would have preferred an even harder edge considering the nastiness of the characters but I am happy that something this ultimately dark became so popular.

A good history is immersive. It’s easy to sputter and choke as an immense wave of details washes over you, but if you are interested enough, engaged enough, you learn how to take it in—assimilate it—almost as if you have learned to breath underwater. DUNKIRK—FIGHT TO THE LAST MAN is impressively researched and annotated and certainly can swamp you with facts: names, dates, locations and landscapes, troop missions and movements, weaponry and the relative wisdom of those involved all swirl into a dense and vivid presentation. The history however is leavened with enough humanity, tales of bravery and stupidity, that you remember these facts work in service of a greater ambition. To show how history is propelled by a few people, carries many more with its passion but most people are just trying to get out of the way before it crushes them.

A good history also deflates myths. Prior to reading DUNKIRK-FIGHT TO THE LAST MAN, I could draw only the barest sketch of the events surrounding the massive WWII rescue operation. I was aware that a flotilla mixing personal and naval crafts ran stranded soldiers from a disintegrating wartime France back to England in just the nick of time. In my mind it was mostly civilian boats with the almost cartoonish image of the last English soldier escaping unscathed as the Germans run toward the docks shaking their heads and their fists. Rarely is history so clean. The first best way the author deals with this is by saving the actual evacuation for the end of the book. Instead, the evacuation looms in the back of your mind while you live through the early days of the war where the seeds were sewn for catastrophe. The frustration builds as the early political failings and arrogant military fumblings are exposed by the Nazi Blitzkrieg. Once the Germans finally attack, the narrative that spoke in days and hours drops down to an almost minute by minute recreation of events. What fascinated me most during this portion of the book was how it was not so much that the Blitzkrieg was unstoppable (and it may have been) but at how many junctures early in the war entire campaigns turned on the greatness or failings of a few people. And sometimes simple bad timing. This reminded me of the much more familiar territory of the D-Day landings. While history now lends the landings a gravitas of inevitability, success was far from assured. The luck that many German leaders, tanks and troops happened to be in the wrong place at the right time was just as important as the months of planning that went into the landings. Imagine this is true of most wars but likely underappreciated.

The human toll is horrific before the city of Dunkirk is even mentioned—already destroying any remaining romantic myths about this rescue. While the story remains both intriguing and devastating through to the last of the book, it is as we approach Dunkirk that the two major flaws pop up in the book. Early on it is teased that the Germans made a mistake by not addressing the city of Dunkirk earlier with sufficient force. Almost nothing is said after that about the German decision process leading to their not fully appreciating the military importance of Dunkirk. Many other parts of the book benefit from the German perspective and the minute by minute tale continued and I kept waiting, but this discussion never materialized—and it was largely why I read the book! The second flaw may be more personal to my curiosity but also early in the book, the involvement of the individual civilian boat owners was teased but during the actual recovery effort they were given short shrift.

All historians have agendas—at least authors certainly do—and I understand choices have to be made but I would have been happy with two paragraphs for flaw one and two or three more anecdotes for flaw two. I know that newly discovered information regarding the troops sacrificed and left behind so that as many other soldiers as possible could escape was a selling point for this particular take on Dunkirk, but I still felt a little cheated at the end. That being said, I highly recommend this un-sanitized take on Dunkirk for anyone who wants an in depth look at this story in particular or a greater understanding of the mechanics of warfare in general.