Spirit of Hope Reviewed

Spirit of Hope

The Comic Book Alliance

A hefty full colour anthology book produced when earthquake and tsunami did their bit to wreck havoc and destroy lives in Japan and New Zealand, not so long ago; though news coverage has now faded and the current situation regarding nuclear reactors that began leaking in Japan apparently completely ignored.

Fortunately, if that's the right expression, Spirit of Hope is there on bookshelves and available via the click of a button on the internet to remind us, make us think; sympathise, and maybe do something about it, and even if not at least profits from this go towards helping those in need abroad who suffered.

Anthologies are a tricky beast, you can never please all of the people all of the time, though with benefit-come-charity driven comic books we tend to put such prejudices aside; look for a pin-up by our favourite artist, enjoy a fair percentage of the strips and accept the rest because it's all in a good cause. We shouldn't though; we should take things on their own merits. Fortunately, to use that terminology again, and actually, surprisingly, Spirit of Hope works pretty well and is a decent read throughout with some really good strips to boot. So thumb's up to Alan Cowsill who took the role of editor.

I'll admit from the get-go some involvement in this book myself, aside from a strip credited with me as writer, but that doesn't mean I'm fawning over it. If you know me, you'll know I refuse to do that.

If there's a problem it's that the theme of the book got slightly lost in the message: in that those invited to take part creatively saw the words Japan but not New Zealand, abbreviated as it was initially to a reference saying NZ comics; thus as the first copies of pages were coming in I noticed samurais and homages to a certain famous wave, but not a Kiwi or Maori even in cameo, and so it went.

I don't excuse myself from this reading oversight: a story idea I came up with revolved around Japan, and the fact that by the time that Alan got back to me (and he was prompt) I had thought of three others, one at least featuring New Zealand, and another that could become either, was too late on my part to pursue any further given our very short deadline. But back to my story later.

The book opens in fine style with Peter Hogan in a linear declaration of intent, developing theme, delivering choice words and offering a satisfactory resolution within its four pages. That artist Adrian Bamforth is called upon to delineate within single panels what a number of others throughout the book will take as the whole context of their story means some strips do have the feel of been-there, done-that, but as noted earlier that's to be expected, and this strip just had to be the opening one. From Hokusai's wave, to devastated dwellings, origami, and more it delivers and sets the reader in the right mood for the rest of the book.

Yes several are worthy, well meaning and mostly look nice but there are others that play with the theme and go beyond.

Pizza Guys by Alan Grant and Kev Hopgood might on reflection be an obvious little tale, but their commercial newsstand/populist sense means they do it succinctly and it works well - Moreso, it's one of the strips that will be accessible to non-comic fans because it doesn't try to be clever: it is clever, and that's by virtue of its concise execution and clarity on the page, and it will raise a smile, maybe even one that's half in groan but it works.

Tony Lee and Dan Boultwood weigh in with Tomorrow a two pager with a twist in the tale, quite literally; David Leach's Psycho Gran sees the old Oink! Character back in teasingly fine form; Declan Shalvey possibly produces the best samurai character art in Strength written by Rob Williams; Vicky Stonebridge shows herself to be a versatile artist in two very different strips (Jason Cobley being the only other person to be featured with two strips), and Nick Abadzis's Useful/Beautiful just kind of sits their across two pages looking cool in its sketchy cartooning simplicity then delivering on the tale when you actually read it.

Two strips prove to be heads above the others though, and outwardly a very different in style and approach.

See the name Liam Sharp tagged to a book like this and you're likely to think he's a busy guy but will turn in some stunning mega-muscled samurai pin-up for a book like this. He ignores those expectations and chooses to write and draw an understated three page sepia-styled possible-memoir of an everyday incident that comments on the Me-generation 80s-90s, polite societal prejudices and the way we interface with the rest of humanity; projecting our emotions forward through the decades to question if we've returned to a more sympathetic nature, and leaving no answer. There are no tsunamis in sight through this Finsbury Park based vignette but it might just cause you to wave over with emotion uneasily.

Literally, some of the opening panels evoke Alan Moore, but that style diverges as the story theme develops; visually it's kind of like David Lloyd layouts painted over by Kent Williams; all such tropes in service to the tale being told. And it's a first class tale.

Flick through the hundred plus pages and you might miss that other very special story; for it only lasts a single page three-quarters of the way through. It is titled Undefeated and is by Lew Stringer.

It has been said of Stringer that he can come up with canny and corny punchlines aplenty and as often as you like. Now some will view that as recommendation, others as criticism. Either way, it has served his publishers well. That he is not only a verbal gagster but a first rate cartoonist is unquestionable.

That, like Sharp, he goes outside his comfort zone, and swims that extra mile makes his tale special too: He uses the tools of his cartooning trade; applies some of the journalistic tricks he's picked up along the way and juxtaposes the visual and the verbal to create something that raises a smile but respectfully; taking us through a series of mixed emotions in the space of six simply outlined panels. Do I make too profound a comment on something so short, and perhaps so apparent as it rests there on the page before me? No. It's what marks the great out among the good. They don't have to act clever: they just are.

Compare this to my own offering: too ambitious by far, and we knew that going in but damn the torpedoes we went ahead and did it anyway. It is a Japanese legend, nudged a little to fit the book's theme.

Given the title A Hope in Hell retrospectively so they had something to put on the content's page as originally I didn't want it to have one (I may have had some deep and meaningful reasons at the time), the plot is the classic one of gods travelling to the underworld and on their return to the surface spring replacing winter. From Inanna in ancient Sumeria to Persephone in Hellenic Greece, on through the centuries and global landscapes until the tales transforms into fairy tales of Sleeping Beauty and her ilk.

The Japanese version's take on the myth is that neither of its lead characters are particularly nice deities from the get-go: patricide being just one of their less reputable attributes. With hindsight, looking at the lettered words on the page I accept my intended mystery was a decent idea (the narrative relates to past events that take place in the myth; a back story if you will for those who'd care) but in implying these things the way I did it comes off as Vertigo-lite. I'd edit some lines here and there if I had it to do now.

However, the real problem lies in trying to condense an epic into four pages, not least that what should have been the adventure of the piece: an epic chase scene with monstrous fights and daring-do along the way gets reduced to a couple of blink-and-you'll-miss-them panels. Not the fault of the art team, but mine.

Initially, I had the idea that this would be the part that worked; working on the premise that everyone else involved in the book was likely to do tranquil morality pieces so if I wrote a bit of action in my story the readers might appreciate the change, but, in the scripting, something had to give, and it was that part; meaning I ended using a page to do my peace-preaching bit. Again, this is no castigation against others, just a comment on my own work.

I was lucky in that the creative team involved had asked, volunteered to work with me; that they wanted to and did such a good job visually in such a cramped space remains my reward. That they kept suggesting this be the dry run before I expanded it into what would be a comfortable graphic novel, I politely declined: been there, done that, learnt by my mistakes. But I'd love to work with Gary Crutchley, Mats Engesten, Yel Zamor and John Robbins on something else where I can allow their individual strengths and collaborative ones to truly shine.

For the sake of the story I had to portray the female lead of Izanami as one hell of a bitch, both literally and in the modern vernacular, and while the male lead, Izanagi, comes off as the hero of humanity that I had to portray for the theme's sake, hopefully there's enough intimation there that he's not as innocent as he makes out.

In the end, my story was also a wish that good times will come again for those who suffered; like the Hogan/Bamforth opening strip did so well. So, many of us were singing the same old song, some sang it better, but I think we all sang it with sincerity, and overall, if not some grand opera, it's still a fine compilation.