A Month of Wednesdays: June 2025

BOUGHT: 

Nancy Wears Hats (Fantagraphics Books) Better writers and smarter comics readers than I have extolled the virtues of Ernie Bushmiller's Nancy comic strip over the years, and so I doubt there's anything I can say about this new collection that's all that worthwhile. 

Suffice it to say that this nice big collection includes over 300 strips from 1949-1950, when the strip was in its prime. I feel like I've seen a fair amount of these strips before, either in other collections I've read or from social media accounts like this one, although there were also a fair amount of strips that were new to me.

Bushmiller's Nancy is, of course, pure, unadulterated comics in perhaps their most perfect form. They're a pleasure to read, and an education for anyone who wants to make comics. I therefore can't recommend this collection—or any of Bushmiller's Nancy, really—highly enough. 

The collection, featuring raised words and art on the cover and nice overall design work by Kayla E., also includes a short, unsigned, three-paragraph prose afterword. Entitled "Ernie & Nancy", the last paragraph lists the character and comic strip's accomplishments, noting that one of Bushmiller's Nancy strips remains the picture that The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language uses next to the definition for "comic strip" and quoting an un-cited Wally Wood that "It's easier to read a Nancy comic than it is to not read one." The piece cheekily ends with this last line: "Who's lit now, Sluggo?"

BORROWED:

Batman/Superman: World's Finest Vol. 6: IMPossible (DC Comics) The latest volume of Mark Waid and Dan Mora's World's Finest picks up right where the last one left off—Mr. Mxyptlk and Bat-Mite have appeared in the Batcave, fleeing an army of villainous "mites" led by a mysterious bad guy, a threat dangerous enough that it has already killed one mite (Green-Mite, who, unable to choose between Green Arrow and Green Lantern, patterned himself off of both).

The arc, "IMPossible", fills most of the trade, accounting for four of the five issues collected within. The story is actually fairly simple. The mysterious bad guy, alternately referred to as "Doom Mite" and "the Imp Killer," hails from the sixth dimension, and he has come to our heroes' fourth dimension, seeking to find its greatest champion and then fight him (or her), rather than taking the time to conquer the whole dimension.

To do determine Earths greatest hero, he's unleashed the various villain mites to team up with their counterparts and attack their archenemies, so that, for example, Sinestro and Sin-Mite team-up against Green Lantern Hal Jordan and Abra Kadabra and his mite tackle Flash Barry Allen, and so on.

Before long, Metropolis is full of superheroes, supervillains and villainous mites, and Batman, Superman, Robin and their new allies Mxyptlk and Bat-Mite wade into battle. I hesitate to say too much more about the plot, as it is full of some really fun, fairly crazy surprises, but I will note that a quite unexpected champion is finally chosen, Batman, Superman and Bat-Mite spend a significant part of the story trapped in the second dimension and then journeying through the dimensions to get back to the fight and, of course, the sixth-dimensional threat is eventually vanquished.

As per usual for this series, there are a lot of guest-stars, and not merely among the various Justice Leaguers and villains in the Metropolis battle royale (Probably my favorite in this story? Prince Ra-Man, who certainly wasn't anyone I was expecting to see here). 

Mora draws the majority of "IMPossible," and it, of course, looks great. His approach to the various imps and mites is interesting, as he draws them all with their usual otherworldly proportions, but he also renders them quite realistically, so that, say, Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite look like their usual selves...but also about as realistic as possible, giving them a slightly unsettling look (I think it's the texture of Bat-Mite's gigantic eyeballs that really gets me). 

The design for the sixth-dimensional villain is interesting too, as he looks both goofy and scary at the same time, the ratio between the goofiness or the scariness changing depending on the scene and, seemingly, the level of threat he poses in itl

Mora does get a little relief from artist Travis Mercer, who draws Superman and Batman when they are trapped in different dimensions, and the fact that they suddenly look so different than when Mora is drawing them is thus naturally excused by the weird circumstances they are in (Interestingly, in the second dimension, the heroes and Bat-Mite take on the appearances they had in old cartoons, with Bat-Mite wearing the costume he did in The New Adventures of Batman and sporting the green skin he had in that late seventies show).

For all the big, crazy twists and turns, Waid does an admirable job with all of the characters, accentuating the differences between Mxy and Bat-Mite's relationships to their heroes (Mxy lives to vex Superman, while Bat-Mite worships Batman and tries to help him) and the imps' relationship to one another (Mxy finds Bat-Mite extremely irritating). 

Most remarkably, Waid tells a compelling story about Batman's stories "growing up", the shift between the silliness of the Silver Age and the more serious Broze Age (which I guess is when World's Finest is actually set? All available clues suggest it is sometime after 1978 but sometime before 1984, our time) and Batman and Bat-Mite coming to a sort of understanding regarding the fact that their relationship needs to evolve. 

So it's a lot of fun, probably the most fun story arc in the series so far, but it's not just fun. It's really, really great superhero universe comics. 

The fifth issue in the collection is a story entitled "Death In Paradise," and is drawn by Gleb Melnikov. Seemingly set somewhere in the past—like, further in the past than other World's Finest stories, based on Robin's costume and apparent age—it features Batman, Robin and Superman being invited to Themyscira to help the Amazons solve a seemingly impossible locked door murder. 

The solution ends up involving the Well of Souls, an innovation from the George Perez Wonder Woman and a pair of villains, one of Wonder Woman's oldest adversaries, and his sister, appearing here for the first time. 

I feel like the Wonder Woman-ness of the story is mostly relegated to her milieu, and her relationship with the title characters doesn't come into play much, although there's a neat scene near the end of "The Trinity" all working together, and a bit of an aside about the three of them meeting for coffee soon. 

There's also a very charming panel in which Robin is shown a kanga, and says, "Yes, please" as soon as an Amazon asks him if he would like to ride one...so soon, in fact, that letterer Dave Sharpe places Robin's word balloon so it overlaps with that of the Amazon. 

Melnikov's style is a departure from Mora's, but not too sharp of one. His Superman and Batman are both thick and bulky without quite looking over-muscled (Do note that Melnikov gives Batman his standard bat-symbol, rather than the Batman '89 one that Mora always gives him for some reason). The same goes for Wonder Woman, who looks far bigger than an evil goddess who appears and some of the other Amazons. His Robin seems particularly small and youthful, even cute (His costume includes a pair of longer black shorts, and his cape is scalloped into different lengths, giving it a more bird-like appearances). 

It's not as great as "IMPossible," of course, but then Waid often has short, one-issue "cool down" stories between his arcs, of which this is apparently one. Like all of his other World's Finest stories, it's fun, fairly light-hearted and as much a celebration of the characters involved as an exploration of them.  

It Rhymes With Takei (Top Shelf Productions) When I read George Takei's 2019 graphic novel memoir They Called Us Enemy, which I had reviewed for The Comics Journal, I was kind of intrigued by a fairly short passage in it about his TV career. As I wrote about it on EDILW shortly after, "the glimpses we see of what it must have been like to be a young, gay, Asian man trying to get roles back then sounds like pretty fertile ground for a memoir, too."

I assume I'm not the only one that had that reaction, as now, six years later, Takei and the same creative team who helped turn his memories into that first book are back with a new work, It Rhymes With Takei, a memoir that covers just that subject and period of Takei's life.

But not just that. At some 330 pages, it is essentially Takei's biography, covering his entire life, but organized around the throughline of Takei's sexuality, his life and career in the closet and the eventual, gradual process of coming out, first to his family (which, in at least one instance, didn't go too well) and then, given his relative celebrity, to the whole world.

Takei is currently 88 years old and was born in 1937. He had a pretty good reason to keep his sexuality a secret for as long as he did. He developed a passion for theater in college that lead to his pursuit of a career in acting, and he had seen what happened to a favorite actor of his, Tab Hunter, when the press discovered that Hunter was gay. 

And then, of course, there was the fact that being gay was, to a certain degree, literally illegal when Takei was a young man, with police raids of gay bars an ever-present fear for him when he would occasionally decide to visit one, often against his better judgement.

While Takei's fraught relationship with his own sexuality is the organizing principle of the book, It RhymesWith Takei essentially covers his entire life (the time in the concentration camp as a child is mentioned but not dwelled on, of course, given that there's a whole graphic novel about that). So readers will learn a bit about his childhood, his education, a formative trip abroad to study Shakespeare, his early work in Hollywood, his early theater career, his big break in Stark Trek, his activism, his off and on work in politics, a relatively short stint working on transit in California and his post-Star Trek life as a minor celebrity, seemingly forever tied in the public imagination to that one particulary gig. 

Several relationships of several sorts are covered, from a furtive hookup in college, to a creative relationship that included a romantic element, to a bad relationship in the 1980s, to his finally meeting Brad Altman, the man who would eventually become his long-time partner and then, when gay marriage was finally legalized, his husband. 

As American culture seems to gradually relax a bit towards expressions of gay life in the 1980s (at least compared to the decades previous), Takei doesn't exactly come out, but he does start to seem less paranoid about people finding out that he might be gay, including becoming visibly active fighting AIDS and even eventually joining a gay running group in Los Angeles, where he is immediately recognized (This, by the way, is where he would meet Brad). 

In 2005, he finally made the decision to come out, a carefully planned-out event, in which he submitted to an interview with a hand-picked journalist for Frontiers magazine. (Though the cover had a headline reading "Exclusive: George Takei Comes Out," it was Margaret Cho whose image was on the cover). 

I don't know what impact doing so actually had on his career at that point; I'm not really a television watcher, nor do I know anything about New York or Los Angeles live theater, so I can't tell you if he got more or less roles after that, but I suspect his roles increased. Or, at the very least, his visibility certainly seems to have increased, as once he came out, he was able to embrace acts of activism in a big way in TV interviews and on social media, which is mainly where I know him from (Well that, his appearance in Kevin Keller #6, which I doubt he would have made were he still closeted. Oh, and, of course, I know him as one of the creators of They Called Us Enemy).

Takei has lived a pretty amazing life, and though he is probably forever going to be best known for his appearances on the Star Trek show and its movies, he accomplished a lot, and moved in powerful circles, having met governors, presidents and prime ministers.

Mostly by an accident of his birth, his lifetime lined up pretty neatly with the history of the gay movement in 20th and 21st century America, and it's remarkable how much history he therefore saw and lived through, from seeing press attacks on Tab Hunter, clandestine hook-ups and secret gay bars, to the increasing visibility of gay men as human beings during the AIDs crisis, to events he witnessed from afar (like Stonewall, the assassination of Harvey Milk, Ellen DeGeneres coming out), to the state by state fights for gay marriage (which in part prompted his own coming out), to the Supreme Court ruling in favor of gay marriage in 2015. And, of course, in his career, he went from desperately hiding his sexuality to becoming a gay icon.

Now I'm not—or, perhaps I should say, I wasn't—a George Takei fan. I have, perhaps rather remarkably, never actually seen anything he's ever appeared in, be it Star Trek, or one of his film roles or any of his many television appearances (with the exception of Rodan and Godzilla Raids Again, which he did some voice work on; Rodan actually appears in one panel of the book). And as a Gen X straight white guy, my own life has very little resemblance to his. 

I say that just to note that I still found It Rhymes With Takei a fascinating read, an extremely compelling telling of a fascinating life, and the delineation of a rather hopeful historical arc experienced by a particular American minority. 

Somewhat unfortunately, there's no backmatter in the book explaining exactly how it was made. As you can see by the cover, Takei gets top billing, his name above the title while his co-creators have their last names stacked up in the lower lefthand corner. 

On the title page, the credits read:

Written By

George Takei

Art By

Harmony Becker

Adapted By
Steven Scott & Justine Eisinger

Presumably Scott and Eisinger turned Takei's story into a comic script of some sort, and perhaps did some form of breakdowns, but it's not entirely clear how exactly the book got made, which is something that is probably of greater interest to comics folks than the average reader. 

Becker's art is here presented in full color, in contrast with They Called Us Enemy, and much of it seems rather heavily referenced, especially later in the book as Takei's media appearances become more frequent, and the words of various politicians and other media personalities are quoted, giving many panels the look and feel of a Tom Tomorrow strip, albeit with thinner lines. 

For the most part the art is more serviceable than noteworthy, a quite effective vehicle for telling Takei's story. 

I'd highly recommend it as the story of an extraordinary American life...as well as the story of a celebrity who, chances are, you may know pretty well and the story of a gay man in America who happened to live through many tumultuous years and a lot of changes for the better, changes that seem to have been very gradual and slow, and then to have happened all at once. 

Komi Can't Communicate Vol. 34 (Viz Media) This volume is dominated by a cultural festival, in which Komi's class—which this time she leads as class representative—decides to do a ramen stand. This proves more difficult than expected, thanks to some regulations on the preparation of food and, especially, the various conflicting personalities and communication disorders of the class, like that of new character and prickly perfectionist Shota Kori. 

There's also some more advancement in Manbagi's unlikely romance with the shy soccer star Wakai (which makes me really nervous, I have to admit, due to how one-sided it seems to be as it develops, and I wish it got a little more attention, as it seems more dramatic than the cultural festival stuff), plus an over-the-top celebration of Komi passing her exams hosted by Rami and an unlikely discussion (complete with bets) regarding what kisses taste like (not spicy shrimp, apparently).

Night Drive (Fantagraphics Books) Richard Sala died in 2020, and this latest publication of the unique stylist's work contains generous supplementary material that gives additional insight into his career, personal life and death...all of which had always been a complete mystery to me, a fan who didn't upon his work after seeing some pages that captured his unusual mixture of the horror genre, sex appeal and an indie artistic aesthetic until the early 21st century. (He apparently died from a heart attack, at the age of 65, which likely meant a few more decades worth of work from him would remain unrealized.)

The title of the book comes from Sala's self-published 1984 anthology comic, a 30-page black and white book that included some 14 distinct stories, some of which are extremely short, only a page or two or three (I had to keep consulting Night Drive's table of contents to see when one story ended and another began). 

Many of these are quite simple in construction and read as dream-like poems paired with illustrations, in Sala's earlier, thinner-lined, more wiggly style; if you look at the cover above, for example, you can see clearly see the later Sala in it, but his art style is obviously not yet as refined as it would become.

This reprint of Night Drive is, of course, the heart of the book, a typically beautifully designed oversized (8.8-inch x 11.3-inch) hardcover from Sala's regular publisher, Fantagraphics.

The original Night Drive's title page includes a quote from writer Jorge Luis Borges: "The solution to the mystery is always inferior to the mystery itself," which serves as a sort of master key to unlocking so much of Sala's work, from these first short illustration and narrative mash-ups to his later graphic novels, which seem organized around the idea expressed in that quote, always bearing an air of mystery and filled with plot points that are rarely explained, his stories often being more suggested than delineated. 

The most famous inclusion in Night Drive is undoubtedly its longest story, the seven-page "Invisible Hands" which, in addition to featuring instances of what would become Sala hallmarks—colorful supervillains, animal masks, a beautiful woman, gunplay—is an early example of his sort of unexplained mystery story, full of genre-inspired imagery and events.

It also, rather famously, lead to an animated adaptation on MTV's 1991 Liquid Television, an anthology show I watched as a teenager, although I never connected that particular feature with the Sala of Peculia, Maniac Killer Strikes Again and his various works of the 2000s, wherein I first encountered his work. 

In addition to including the original (and apparently never before reprinted) Night Drive, this book includes about a dozen pages of similar short comics from the same time that were either intended for the original comic or a never produced follow-up (grouped here under "Outtakes") and a four-page collaboration between Sala and writer "Mark Burbey" for 1988 comic Street Music. 

Aside from the comics content, the book also includes a prose remembrance by Sala's friend (and occasional interviewer) Dana Marie Andra (who also wrote under the penname Mark Burbey), heavily illustrated by Sala's covers for Horror Show and Street Music and a handmade Christmas card; a section reprinting Q-and-A style interviews from The Comic Book Journal and Comic Book Bin and a blog post of Sala's about Night Drive and the "Invisible Hands" adaptation; and, finally, an afterword by Daniel Clowes. 

Although the Sala comics in Night Drive aren't his best nor most sophisticated work, they're important previews of what is to come, reading retroactively like an intriguing map of a magnificent career in comics and illustration that would flow from them. It's fascinating to see how much of Sala's style and interests were present here at the very beginning of his publishing career, and how they contain what is often more important in Sala's comics than the exact lines drawn or words written, the mood and spirit of his peculiar aesthetic.

I especially enjoyed all of the prose stuff about Sala, given how little I actually knew about him. Sala was about a generation older than me, and reading about his influences, I see I had very little firsthand experience with the works that informed his: Typical "monster kid" stuff, 1960s genre TV, Frank Frazetta, Jack Kirby, Hammer films, 1970s horror comics, Fantomas, German expressionist films, a wide variety of prose literature. This probably goes a long way toward explaining the fact that, in addition to appreciating his specific art style and the moody, mysterious, Lynchian vibe of his work, I often felt things in it rather than actually recognizing them. (Reviewing all the mentions that he or others made of his various influences in the prose pieces here, I think the only places a Venn diagram of them overlaps with my own pop culture diet is probably the writing of H.P. Lovecraft and the art of Jack Kirby).

Night Drive probably isn't the best place to start with Sala's work, but for his many fans, it's an extraordinarily rewarding read. 

Star Wars: The Battle of Jakku (Marvel Entertainment) As I've mentioned in previous posts discussing Star Wars comics, the time period of the franchise I generally find most interesting is that set after Return of the Jedi, as that was, at one point, the end of the "official" story of the original films' heroes and their conflict with the villains of the Empire, opening up the possibility of more imaginative adventures completely unmoored from the emergent continuity. Unlike other periods of Star Wars comics, those set post-Jedi didn't have to end at a certain place or keep things from changing too much.

That was certainly the case with those first Marvel Star Wars comics, which moved past the Rebellion Vs. Empire storyline pretty quickly after the release of Jedi (I reviewed collections of Marvel's post-Jedi issues in this post and this one). And it was, to a certain degree, the same with the Dark Horse comics of the 1990s, although as time went on, more and more of the official Star Wars story got filled in by the increasing number of novels and other "Extended Universe" media (I've been trying to read those via Marvel's Epic Collections, but they are proving harder to find than I'd like; I reviewed the first collection here and the second here). 

By the 21st century, it seemed that the novels, comics and video games had mapped out much of the rest of the lives of Luke, Leia, Han and company, and various creators turned their sites on the ancient past and far-flung future of the Star Wars galaxy. So while the 2015 slate cleansing of the "Extended Universe" continuity that accompanied the release of new film The Force Awakens did strike me as rather unfortunate (there were so many comics and novels at that point, I could probably have spent the rest of my life trying to catch up on what I had missed), it did at least offer a somewhat intriguing opportunity. 

That is, if nothing else, the post-Jedi future was once again wide open, and the original Star Wars heroes were again available for brand-new, not-yet-chronicled adventures, right? 

Well, sort of. 

The downside of Star Wars getting a Crisis on Infinite Earths-like continuity reboot that relegated all of the non-film stuff into a new, non-canonical "Legends" status was that the post-Jedi period now had an end point it had to line-up with, that of the status quo presented in The Force Awakens (Even if it did leave a few decades in which new stories could be told). And while there were certainly admirable aspects of the new trilogy, it was, overall, disappointingly familiar (I wrote at the time of The Force Awakens' release that it felt as much like a remake as a sequel), and at its core it presented the very same Rebels vs. Empire conflict as the original trilogy, rendering Jedi not so much an exclamation point as a comma, and our heroes (well, Leia at least) stuck fighting the exact same damn conflict for decades.

This is all a very long way of saying that I was excited—even if it's a somewhat reserved sort of excitement—for Marvel's Star Wars: The Battle of Jakku, an almost 300-page trade paperback collecting a series of miniseries from last year set in the still relatively little-explored post-Jedi, pre-Force Awakens period in which Luke, Leia, Han and company are still important players. This, after all, was the new, new, new post-Jedi version of Star Wars, and the first time since regaining the license that Marvel would be producing new comics not closely tied to the events of one of the trilogy of film trilogies.

I'm sorry to confess that I found it somewhat disappointing, especially because it was written by Alex Segura, a comics pro whom I like a lot and who, being a comics person-turned-novelist whose resume includes some Star Wars prose work, sure seems like an ideal candidate to produce new Star Wars comics. 

I'm not entirely sure how to diagnose my disappointment, I'm afraid, so bear with me here as this portion of the post meanders a bit.

Is it the specific construction of the book, which reads less like a new Star Wars film in comics form (as my favorite Star Wars comics generally have) than a Star Wars novel or TV series in comics form? (And hell, perhaps the novel or the TV series are the predominant media for Star Wars stories at this point).

Is it the breaking up of the band, so that our heroes are rarely together in this storyline, with only Leia and Luke present throughout, though usually doing their own things? (Lando comes and goes, and Han, who leaves with Chewbacca and the droids on the first page, doesn't return until very late in the book.)

Is it the failure to live up to its title, which promises to tell the story of the battle that littered new trilogy hero Rey's desert planet with the Imperial wreckage she's seen exploring in The Force Awakens...? (The battle will eventually be fought, but not until the last pages of the collection, some ten issues or so worth of comics into this storyline.)

Or is it, as I suspect, the need to connect to the other post-Jedi, pre-Force Awakens novels and TV shows, of which there are apparently enough to dictate the comings-and-goings of various characters? (I was interested enough in this new post-Jedi continuity that I read Chuck Wendig's Aftermath trilogy of novels when they were originally released between 2015 and 2017, which went a ways towards setting up The First Order incarnation of the Empire, and apparently committed Han and Chewie to Kashyyk at a certain time, which is why I guess they are absent throughout so much of Battle of Jakku.)

At any rate, the true star of this comics narrative is Grand Moff Ubrik Adelhard, whom I at first took to be a character original to these comics, but a quick consultation of Wookieepedia just now reveals that he actually debuted ten years ago in a mobile game. (I didn't look up every single character as they appeared in this comic, although I did feel compelled to do so; that's because pretty much all of them are introduced as if a reader should already be familiar with them, despite the fact that outside of Rae Sloane, who I recognized from her role in Aftermath, and the characters from the first trilogy of films, I didn't know any of these people.)

In the wake of news of the Emperor's death, Adelhard locks down his sector of the galaxy, initially denying the death of the Emperor, Big Lie-style. He has a small circle of allies that includes a punctilious female imperial officer, a big, masked Vader-esque lieutenant dressed all and black and an apparent Force witch of some kind, who hails from a group called "The Acolytes of the Beyond." 

This quartet and their agents and allies will spend the entire series betraying one another, and much of the plotting will revolve around their machinations and their jockeying with one another, all as Adelhard jockeys for a place within the emerging structure of the post-Palpatine Empire.

Adelhard builds alliances with unlikely actors throughout the series, including the gangster-like spice runners lead by a lady wearing the same full-head masked helmet that Keri Russel's character wore in Rise of Skywalker (I think this lady is maybe meant to be Russel's character's mom?). But after one defeat and/or one betrayal too many, he ends up going completely rogue, targeting both the remnants of the Empire and the emerging Republic in the titular battle, nihilistically hoping to kill off everybody. 

As for that battle, I must confess I don't quit get it. 

It's supposedly a final showdown between the two sides of the Galactic civil war, and meant to be final in a way that I guess the Battle of Endor wasn't, although it's not really clear why that's the case, or why the Empire and the Rebels/Republic amass all their forces there in the first place. 

Like, I don't always get the way that Star Wars applies various military concepts or story tropes to outer space...battles between armadas of spaceships don't really need to be anchored to particular planets, do they? (As I always understood the Battle of Endor and the Battle of Yavin, those basically happened where they did because, in the first case, the Empire lured the Rebels there with a cover story of a not-yet-operational Death Star and, in the second, because that's where the Rebel base was and the Empire came there to zap them with their first Death Star, right?) (Note: I also didn't understand the fact that a map to Luke's location was a story point in the last trilogy; like, why would you have a two-dimensional map of outer space with a trail marked on it rather than just, like, a set of coordinates...?)

Leading up to it, however, is a whole lot of standing on bridges and in conference rooms, talking politics and battle plans, on both sides. 

As I said, much of the attention is paid to Adelhard and his contentious inner circle, but we also see a lot of Leia and Mon Mothma doing the same (Leia, about halfway through the book, will start showing a belly, and in her few action scenes, she's quite visibly pregnant. The scripts don't really acknowledge this in any way until she finally gives birth at the end of the book, though, at which point the whole cast of heroes from the original films finally reunite around her and the baby on the penultimate page.) 

There seem to be four primary artists involved—Leonard Kirk, Jethro Morales, Luke Ross, Stefano Raffaele—but none of the art really sings. Given how established the galactic setting is at this point, and how much of this particular series is set aboard Star Destroyers, there's not a whole lot for the artists to actually invent, and they are mostly employed drawing familiar Star Wars corridors, conference rooms, ships, armor and costumes. 

The likenesses tend to vary depending on the artist, and thus the scene but, again, Luke and Leia are really the only characters played by familiar actors who appear throughout the series. When Han does return later, apparently after his Kashyyk adventure, he sports a beard.

There are a few scenes where Luke ignites his light saber and Stormtroopers shoot blasters where it really feels like Star Wars, and there's a scene where a big, goofy-looking monster appears to chase Luke and his pilot partner a bit, where I actually sighed in relief and thought, "Finally," but, for the most part, this, I am sorry to say, felt more like a bloodless exercise in continuity dot-connecting than an attempt to capture the various virtues of the films in the comics medium.

I want to read new comics featuring the heroes of Star Wars, and while I assumed this post-Jedi story would give its creators the opportunity to tell a new and exciting story with those heroes, that's not how it turned out. I'd prefer more big, goofy alien monsters, and less Republic or Imperial politics, I guess. 

Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead Vol. 17 (Viz) I admit I am far from an expert on the zombie genre, which has so exploded in the past 20 years or so it seems way too big for a more casual fan to keep up with, so I'm honestly not sure: Has anyone done zombies in space before...?

Haro Aso and Kotaro Takata get there in this seventeenth volume of their life-affirming zombie apocalypse comedy. It seems like an odd direction for the book to take at this point, as the world is now some months (maybe even years?) into a zombie apocalypse, and I confess some skepticism when I saw the cover, and the title of this story ("Outer Space of the Dead") and flipped through to see rockets and our heroes in space suits.

But the creators make it work. One of the increasingly few remaining items on our protagonists' collective bucket list of things to do before becoming zombies is "Experience zero gravity," and I wonder to what degree crossing off the items on that list influences the stories Aso and Takata decide to tell. 

At the volume's opening, our heroes are lounging on a beach, but after an extremely loud boom and a horde of zombies following it, they find themselves at headquarters of Star W, a private space exploration company that has been prepping an unmanned rocket for a test launch throughout what Shizuka calls "the pandemic." 

With electricity provided by windmills, plenty of astronaut food to live on, and a high barb-wired fence to keep the zombies out, charismatic Star W founder Hirotaka Ukaji and his employees have kept busy pursuing his dream of "Japan's first civilian-led... ...manned flight to outer space! And launched from Japanese soil to boot!"

Our heroes are present for the test flight, but as the countdown begins, things go wrong, as they so often do in zombie narratives. A section of the fence collapses and zombies swarm. Akira and his freinds have a plan to save Star W's many employees, and it involves luring all of the zombies beneath the rocket's thrusters, where they will be incinerated during the launch, but there's a catch they don't think of until it's almost too late: What happens to them when the rocket blasts off?  

The solution, of course, is to board the rocket, which they do with Mr. Ukaji. That presents a whole new set of problems of course, including one that doesn't seem to make any sense, which I spoiled a few paragraphs ago, I guess: There are, somehow, zombies in space, despite how far removed the people at the International Space Station were from whatever caused the infection on Earth.

Or were they? There's an intriguing cliffhanger ending, one that ties into the few hints we've gotten so far about what set off Zom 100's zombie plague. Also intriguing? When our heroes reach space, they see an awful lot of lights still burning on earth, giving them some way to gauge how well civilization outside of Japan seems to be faring. At the very least, humanity seems to have managed to keep the lights on while the zombie pandemic rages. 

REVIEWED:

Don't Cause Trouble (Henry Holt and Company) Is Arree Chung's fictionalized memoir about growing up Chinese-American with a two very idiosyncratic parents and trying to be cool American Born Chinese meets Big Nate...? Personally, I've never gone in for those sorts of "it's X meets X" descriptions of comics or movies or whatever, as they often seem a little too pat, and they tend to do a disservice to all of the works involved, but I have to confess I thought of both of those very different comics while reading Don't Cause Trouble. Chung's book deals with some of the themes that American Born Chinese does, although it's more about being an outsider in general than being Chinese-American specifically, while the big-headed grade-schooler characters and the style in which they are drawn reminded me a bit of Lincoln Pierce's popular comic. It's really funny, and I enjoyed it a lot. More here. 

Godzilla: Skate or Die (IDW Publishing) There's a fantastic page-turning experience near the climax of this rather unique Godzilla comic.

In the last panel on a righthand page, a scientist is theorizing about an alien doohickey that fell to earth and seems to be attracting and enraging giant monsters Godzilla and Varan, who spend most of the book battling one another. The scientist says the thing's influence is spreading and that "Godzilla, Varan...they could just be the beginning...."

Then, when the reader turns the page, they are confronted with an awesome two-page splash depicting ten more Toho monsters, all rendered in bright pink, while the scientist and other characters appear small along the bottom of the page, the scientist declaring, "These pulses could awaken every kaiju on the planet!"

And thus, the fate of the world is at stake in this book, although our heroic skaters' main concern is much smaller: Saving their beloved skate park. 

Writer/artist Louie Joyce's Godzilla comic is at once completely atypical and faithful to the basic Godzilla narrative, which always revolves around human beings and their problems as related to the giant monster/s, but here the human beings involved aren't the usual scientists, reporters and military types, but rather a group of Australian skaters. It's fun stuff, and another good argument for IDW and/or Toho allowing various creators with their own distinct styles to essentially go nuts with the long-lived IP. More here. 

Reel Life (Graphix/Scholastic) Cartoonist Kane Lynch's graphic novel follows sixth-grader Galen as he faces a series of dramatic alterations to his family life, which seem to begin when his dad cheats on his mom. To help process these changes, Galen and his best friend, who make movies in their spare time, attempt to make a documentary about his parents' divorce. More here.