#granted i reread it when in college and it was still a weird scene

[volixia669]

Vampire Chronicles Basics

Okay, with the new Interview with the Vampire show coming out, there’s probably going to be some folks who might be curious about the books and wondering why there’s so much disrespect towards the author. This probably isn’t the ONLY primer, but like, whatever.

Note: I never got around to reading all of her books, and some of this is drawing from memory though wikipedia is helpful.

Contextual History Lesson Time!

As a media criticism type person, I find it important to not examine media in a vacuum, and take into account what was happening at the time it was created.

The timing of the first three books is notable. Interview with a Vampire was released in 1976, The Vampire Lestat was released in 1985, and Queen of the Damned was released in 1988.

So we have one book with gay subtext released post free love movement but prior to gay folks becoming more known in society, then two more released during the aids crisis with the queer subtext/text still going strong. This? This is huge. Reportedly, there were people sending Anne Rice letters about how amazing it was to see themselves in the characters. Some these days might roll their eyes at how subtext might be revolutionary, but please understand. During the aids crisis, the queer community, particularly gay men, were being blamed and discriminated against to horrifying levels to the point gay men still can’t give blood.

So for a book series to have not only the metaphor of penetration and being an outbut but also have these characters seem very gay? It’s huge! It’s like a weight being lifted off, even just temporairly, while you go, “Someone sees me and my situation.”

The Vampire Lestat even had Lestat’s mother questioning her gender and deciding to dress and act more masculine. Sure, these days we’d call it “problematic” trans rep for many reasons, but back in 1985? Except for certain more indie films, trans people weren’t even talked about.

Which is a huge reason the series got big among the queer community, others caught wind, and eventually that movie with Brad Pitt was made.

And now we’re in the 90s with a few things happening. One of which being Anne Rice uh...Firing her editor? Not bothering with an editor? Whatever happened, the quality of writing goes downhill.

Additionally, Anne Rice was going through...a lot, and it shows in her writing. She started as one sect of Christianity, left it after a family member died, was athiest/agnostic for awhile, then went to a different sect of Christianity when another family member died, then eventually was in her own thing of believing in God & Jesus but not following any particular sect. Then she died.

This is relevant, as we see Lestat go from prissy rockstar to literally meeting Jesus. So. There’s that.

Another thing that happened in the 90s was the internet becoming bigger, resulting in things like forums, chatgroups, livejournal, and essentially online fandom. People in the Vampire Chronicles fandom began sharing their fanfiction.

Anne Rice hated that. It was her world, her property, her Gary-Stu, and therefore only she could write Vampire Chronicles. She began suing anyone who was writing fanfiction, yes, even the broke teenagers.

She wasn’t the only one doing this of course, but she was certainly adamant about it. Additionally, there’s an emotional element too. Because her work was one of the few popular media where queers could see themselves in, it was like a betrayal to have her say, “No, I hate anyone who loves this world so much they’d write fic.” (not a real quote btw just how it felt)

This is why many fanfic writers in the 2000s, early 2010s, and a few even today write disclaimers at the top of their fic. Because a “I do not own this property. This property belongs to blah blah blah” was one of the few defenses (however flimsy) fanfic writers had. It’s also why, as of the last time I checked ff.net, Anne Rice’s works are not allowed on that site.

That said, from this backlash against fandom, Archive of Our Own and its lawyers were born. The volunteers of OT3 are why y’all will be able to write Lestat fucking Louis into next week and post it there without worrying about Anne Rice’s estate hounding you.

The Books Themselves

So! With that lengthy history done, what about the books? To start off with, while the movie, and this new show are called “Interview with the Vampire”, that’s just the first book. The series as a whole are The Vampire Chronicles.

So we’ve got:

Interview with the Vampire (1976)

The Vampire Lestat (1985)

The Queen of the Damned (1988)

The Tale of the Body Thief (1992)

Memnoch the Devil (1995, the one where Lestat meets Jesus, a lot of people hate it, I think its hilarious with some interesting theological points)

New Tales of the Vampires-Pandora (1998, prequel about an older Roman vampire) New Tales of the Vampires-Vittorio the Vampire (1999, another prequel, about a 15th century Italian Nobleman vampire)

The Vampire Armand (1998, it’s Armand’s story and also I maintain the first 60 pages reads like an M-rated fanfic on ff.net, which is objectively hilarious imho)

Merrick (2000, crossover with another her series called the Mayfair Witches)

Blood and Gold (2001, now the ancient vampire Marius gets his own origin story.)

Blackwood Farm (2002, more Mayfair Witches crossover)

Blood Canticle (2003, EVEN MORE CROSSOVER also was originally gonna be a conclusion buuuuuuuuuuut)

Prince Lestat (2014, Lestat is back and is facing pressure to lead the vampires because I guess all the ones with enough of a brain cell to go that would be a TERRIBLE idea are dead)

Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantic (2016, I guess we’re now in Atlantis?)

Blood Communion (2018)

As you can see there’s a lot of books and content. Especially because Vampire Chronicles wasn’t her only series. On top of her erotic romance series that even my “sure you can watch Criminal Minds while 9 years old” mom was like, “Do not touch that,” she had her Tales of the Mayfair Witches series, which AMC incidentally also has the rights for. So...Lots of books, one world with vampires and witches and Jesus.

However, because of the drop in quality as well as the level of batshittery (no I’m still not over Lestat going to fucking Atlantis), last I checked the main reads are the first three, with Vampire Armand also being thrown in because I mean, after you see Antonio Banderas as Armand you want to know more about him.

Of course by all means! Read more of the books! Maybe you’ll get a laugh like I did! Maybe the quality doesn’t seem so bad to you! Maybe you enjoy batshittery! 

And if you don’t want to give the Anne Rice estate more money because she was a bad person, there’s plenty of libraries that have the books! Trust me. They do. Some might even have them in ebook version, so you can use apps like overdrive or libby to check them out without even leaving your house!

Appropriation in Vampire Chronicles

This is gonna be short since I’m sure there’s whole pieces about this and I don’t have the books in front of me nor am I part of any of these cultures, but I do want to run over that yes, there’s certainly some cultural appropriation in this series, particularly of Egyptian Culture, but also of voodoo and creole culture.

I want to warn of this, so it doesn’t catch anyone off guard, especially since “Merrick” and “Queen of the Damned” in particular are uh. Full of this. I also have no idea if the more recent books are any better in this regard.

That said, I’m curious about how the AMC tackles these aspects, as its already quite clear they’re not following the books 1:1, which is actually going to make for a better story.

Hopefully all that is helpful!

[arecomicsevengood]

AGING ALTERNATIVES

We live in a culture that worships the large-scale spectacle of the obvious. Partly because of this, the most affecting thing a person can do is something with a large amount of effort behind it, delivered to a small audience: An elaborate meal cooked for a loved one, a labored-over zine in an edition of ten. But of course, time has this great leveling effect, and attempting something large scale can easily crash and burn, and in so doing become something only for a limited audience.

There is an ongoing conversation being had about older comics but they are almost always superhero comics, with some weird eighties genre trash thrown in. This conversation includes a great many alternative cartoonists, but it is very rare for a forgotten art comic to slide its way into the discussion. There’s numerous reasons for this: The larger the print run, the larger the chance a work will find its way to a bargain bin. But also, artists are competitive, and largely inclined to promote themselves or their peers. Once an artist is no longer producing work, they are rarely championed.

Obviously, not everyone finds their way into “the canon,” but you would think that work intended to be somewhat personal would end up being valued enough by individual people that you’d hear about it now and again. The case for alternative comics is the same as it ever was: It’s an artistic medium that can do anything, and it’s released in the fairest most egalitarian way, via mass production, for it to find people who will support it. The art is immediately striking in a way that gives it an edge over the written word, but it’s distributed to shops across America rather than galleries, and so should have long life after its initial release. Of course, the vision falters due to the reality that most of what gets produced is pretty bad, and not really expressing anything particularly unique or individual, and this only goes unspoken at the time of a work’s release due to admiration for the amount of labor that nonetheless went into it.

But what ends up happening in retrospect is this thing where banal superhero work gets reevaluated, with certain aesthetic decisions dictated by the technology of the time (like the coloring) becoming romanticized and recognized as things of beauty, while tons of black and white comics made by people who were desperately trying to push the medium forward and make something that works as art or literature get tarred with a blanket dismissal, associated with either the indulgences of the highest-profile practitioners or simply casualties of their pitiful attempts at graphic design. Only the small handful of practitioners whose publishers have steadily championed them and kept their work in print get to escape this fate. But obviously, if you’re working at something risky, you might end up working with publishers who are not economically viable in the long term, or, if they are, it’s because they’re being subsidized by projects way more commercial than yours.

There’s plenty of stuff which had a large enough print run for copies to be found, but functionally exist at the level of visibility of a zine. But, while I might be interested in extending the same amount of charity I would to someone making work with no hope of commercial success, to engage with the work honestly means that the fact that it was attempting to find its place in the world of commerce must be taken into consideration when thinking about the goals it set out to fulfill. That so much fails to meet these commonly-held goals can make one feel pretty depressed about the medium, and maybe this is another reason for people to avert their eyes: When you’re talking about superhero comics of a certain vintage, while they might not have attempted to be art, at least the people making them got paid.

Obviously, The Comics Journal has been fighting this fight for decades. I am sure all of the books I am going to write about, they have already covered, and they probably came to the same conclusions, and depending on the writer, they might’ve been more entertaining to read than I will be. But I want to offer these reconsiderations in light of all the other reconsiderations being made, that are coming to the opposite conclusion of what The Comics Journal would’ve. It is easy to look back at the 1980s now and say, for instance, that Elektra Assassin is a better comic book than American Splendor.  There’s a discrepancy between what is the best work being produced at a given historical moment and what is the most exciting scene to be a part of. I like to think if I had been writing for the Comics Journal in the early nineties, I wouldn’t have gone all-in praising Palookaville, but I get that in the moment it would’ve felt important to do so. Now, of course, there is very little that feels exciting at all, in the context of real-world community, due to the global pandemic. This is an incredibly lonely moment, and nostalgia has a powerful allure.

But I’d like to ensure the nostalgia we feel compels us to fight for what’s human, rather than allow us to simply surrender our past to the colonizing forces of corporate interests. In the interest of the human, I will not make any grandiose claims for the works I’m writing about. I’m not describing anything as a masterpiece. These instead fulfill the humble virtues of being charming, cool, interesting. They didn’t upend my value system of what the comics medium could be. But, since it was all of the Picturebox releases that shifted my perspective on comics on its axis when I was in college that caused me to ignore some of this stuff, that its virtues can endure after such a flip is itself notable. Anyway, I have no reason to have written such a long preamble. I could’ve easily just made separate posts for each comic I wanted to talk about, but all this additional context seemed important to me to articulate. All of these are books I bought online over the past few months.

Shuck Unmasked, by Rick Smith and Tania Menesse

Feel like the main thing holding this comic back is a certain lack of joie de vivre to its line. There’s a certain cuteness to its designs that seems reminiscent of Jeff Smith or Goodbye Chunky Rice era Craig Thompson but it’s a little bit stiff in ways those cartoonists aren’t. The mask Shuck wears resembles the face Chester Brown draws himself having in Paying For It. I feel like this is maybe the only comic I’ve seen that frequently has dialogue that’s misspelled in an attempt to capture phonetic dialect and presents that through lettering that feels like a font. There’s a sense of being rounded instead of being scratchy, a lushness that feels hinted at, but also tamped down. There’s a literary flavor to it, an attention to the language, a deliberate and delicate sense of stately melancholy that’s present.

The Shuck of the title is a demon, living on Earth, tasked with making sure the dead don’t escape the afterlife and roam around. Despite his horned form, he’s able to wear the mask of an old man, and fit in with his neighbors, which include a little girl, with whom he develops a bond. There’s a gentle quality to it, but also a sense of darkness that prevents it from being cloying, an interest in the esoteric that suggests the profound. The premise could be a recipe for sitcom-ish stasis, but actually the status quo shifts quite a bit, over the course of these self-published comics, collected into a book by Top Shelf.  It feels like each individual chapter should be reread a few times before proceeding on; the chapters have a nice density to them. That’s the funny thing about a lack of velocity to the line, it suggests a studiousness with which to approach it, but doesn’t invite the eye to return to it. Two issues of a sequel were self-published afterwards, I would read those.

Tales Of Woodsman Pete, by Lilli Carré

I’ve heard a couple people call Lilli Carré the best cartoonist of her generation. The first time I heard it said, I had never read anything by her, but I was struck by the assertion because there’s so many heavy hitters in that cohort I’m not comfortable making such declarations about anyone. There’s a collection of Carré’s short stories I’ve checked out from the library, but I found that collection inconsistent, with notable highs that didn’t still didn’t quite bowl me over. This could be partly an issue of format - Few cartoonists of Carré’s generation have a short story collection of their work available, and it might not be the best way to examine the work and see its strengths.

(A sidenote irrelevant to the larger thrust of this conversation - I started keeping a google doc of what years cartoonists were born, and have a my own idea of “generations” of cartoonists in terms of whose work it makes sense to consider alongside one another. 1960-1967 is one cohort, then 1968-1975, then 1976-1982, then 1983-some point unclear to me at this point, there’s a generational divide for sure but I don’t yet know the rules of it. I lump Carré in with Eleanor Davis, Dash Shaw, and Michael Deforge, rather than the slightly older group which includes Kevin Huizenga, CF, and Sammy Harkham. That’s not to say the people championing Carre are making the same distinctions, these generational lines are weird and arbitrary and some people are “on the cusp” and everyone chooses their own peers to a certain extent. However, I do think these generations are important or useful to think about, in terms of who came up with access to alternative newspaper strip jobs vs. the Xeric Grant vs. Tumblr, and it’s just generally interesting to think about what was around to serve as an influence at a formative age. People born after 1967 have had very few opportunities or chances for institutional support, by my reckoning. Over time, more people became acclimated to making uncompromising art, and there also became way less economic opportunity for people making work intended for adults. I suspect the forthcoming generation will be more inclined towards making content for kids because they grew up with things targeted to children, and they can be part of the push to make that stuff more diverse. This coincides with all of the economic infrastructure except for libraries being obliterated.)

Tales Of Woodsman Pete is a smaller object, of digest proportions, that Top Shelf released, early in Carré’s career. It’s worth noting her style nowadays is far more experimental and minimal, although I suppose at the time her work might’ve been considered pared-down, closer to folk tales than novels. This comic follows a woodsman, who monologues to no one, speaking to the trophies he’s made of his kills, in a series of short strips. This is juxtaposed against bits involving Paul Bunyan and his ox Babe, who share a camaraderie between them that doesn’t truly abate Bunyan’s sense of loneliness. It is, like Shuck, a gentle thing, and is able to conjure up some emotion, but I wonder if the sense of tweeness present within it is something Carré feels she’s outgrown? That’s not to say I object to it, just that I recognize a shift away from that stuff. I believe Carré is a Calvino fan, this stuff might be closest to the early stories in Our Ancestors, but Calvino’s work became far more overtly experimental afterwards. I don’t know, I still don’t have a bead on who Carré is or where she’s going. And that’s great, why should I?

Hectic Planet: Checkered Past, by Evan Dorkin

In high school, I read a Hectic Planet comic called The Bummer Trilogy, and liked it a lot. That was a single issue collecting three short stories that were the last work Evan Dorkin would do with the characters. While in retrospect, high school is probably the ideal age to read this material, those strips still feel more mature, in a sense of being personal, than much of Dorkin’s work. He’s written some superhero comics for the big two that never did much for me, and he has some collaborative genre comics I’ve never read, but he’s most associated with his humor cartooning, which I have kept up with despite only finding them intermittently funny. There’s always a sense of Dorkin as a performer of his material, where the humor tends to feel angry, but his most self-consciously autobio material is about the fact that his psyche is a dumping ground for assorted pop culture detritus. What’s interesting about this material is that is, in fact, still kind of immature, but it’s moving away from the science fiction premise, to be present enough to make jokes and talk about feelings. It’s the falterings towards finding a voice and having confidence in it, a youthful move towards what might not be maturity, but is, at least, work. So chunks of this are about a dude who’s heartbroken because he caught his girlfriend cheating on him and so he’s annoying all of his friends by complaining all the time and he’s thrilled to meet girls who like the same bands as he does and he goes to the grocery store and only buys junk food and while this might sound dumb, in context, it’s the beginnings of a worldview that feels fairly true to life for someone who would’ve been that age, at that point in time.

So, considering the era, and the sense of a science fiction premise being abandoned, it might make sense to think of this comic as following in the footsteps of Love And Rockets, albeit from an East Coast Jewish male perspective, and nowhere near as good. It almost feels like if a low-budget eighties sci-fi movie had cast a stand-up comedian in it, and when the budget got cut, they let him fill out the runtime with his routines and riffs, in an attempt to make it a star vehicle in case he ever got cast on SNL. Slave Labor put out a lot of alternative comics, and they all kind of got looked down upon to one degree or another. Much of what they published is both really poorly drawn and nakedly chasing whatever youthful subculture audience they could. Dorkin is easily one of the better artists they had, but the desire to be cool according to the terms of the subculture of the times makes for comics that feel dated now. All the characters in this book are really into ska, the back of the book has all these images taken from ska compilations and 7-inches featuring the characters. But that’s also interesting, because sensing the book’s quest to find its readership lends such authenticity to the young adult milieu, of what it means to be on your own and trying to find your people. It’s from a moment in time when talking about young people put a work in dialogue with alternative culture and not major book publishers, who due to generational differences, would not have understood any of the things this comic is about.

(This piece is sort of a variation on what I talk about in my article in But Is It… Comic Aht 2, by the way. There, behind a beautiful Lilli Carre cover, you can see me talking up more explicitly “all-ages” comics Slave Labor published, like Zander Cannon’s Replacement God, and Scott Roberts’ Patty Cake. Halo And Sprocket was a little bit later than the time period the article focuses on, but I liked that as well. Maybe the most interesting thing I’ve read from Slave Labor that wasn’t all ages and was never collected into a book would’ve been Jon Lewis’ series Ghost Ship. I also like the issues I’ve read of Bernie Mireault’s The Jam, which ran at multiple publishers, and I would like to read more of.)

[ohblackdiamond]

33 (alternate ending for... whatever ever had an alternative ending) 38, 44, 46... and ’m greedy I’m sorry

don’t be sorry! i enjoy answering these!

33. alternate ending for (insert story title)“all of your b-films” was initially semi-drafted to be later on (like the early or mid-nineties) and end with ace and peter getting married (nothing big, just the two of them, and of course given the time period it wouldn’t have been official), but i couldn’t make it happen.

38. do you reread your own stories?all the time. that probably sounds conceited, but for the first month or two after posting something i’ll probably open it up once a day because i like the turns of phrases/emotions and stuff. i know how it ends, granted, but it’s still fun.

44. do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it?i try to write linearly as much as possible because i have more chances of finishing a fic if i discipline myself that way (the easiest fics i’ve ever written were written linearly), but if a future scene comes to mind and i don’t think i can hold off, i’ll write it ahead of time. 

46. share a scene of a story that you haven’t published yethere’s some of the peter/paul fic from their first tour!

           For Paul, the prospect of going home was just as disastrous. At least, that was how he made it out to be. He’d get into these depressed rambles about his parents and his sister and his niece and how coming back just wasn’t an option.

           “Not an option? C’mon, you were in college, what, a couple of quarters—”

           Paul had winced and licked his lips, a quick, nervous tic Peter had gotten far too accustomed to seeing as the band’s money situation worsened.

           “I only went a week. Don’t tell Gene.” And a swallow. “Look, it’s stupid. I know. But I was born to play rock and roll, okay?”

           “You’re preaching to the fucking choir.”

           “I mean… if I can’t do this, if I can’t make this happen, I might as well not be here. This is the only outlet I’ve got.”

           Peter had rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to groan. Overblown as ever. Paul thought Peter was the dramatic one, the tetchy one, just because he had enough balls to address what was pissing him off instead of keeping it to occasional bitchy comments. Paul never seemed to hear his own whines.

           “You think you’re the only one with a dream around here?” Peter couldn’t even bite back the rest. “How old were you when the Beatles got on Ed Sullivan? Ten?”

           “Twelve,” Paul had grumbled back. “Don’t make this an age thing—”

           “I was just out of high school. And I was already in bands—”

           “Pete, I know, I know already. You keep telling me.” Paul heaved a sigh. “You keep telling all of us.”

           “You’ve got to pay your dues, that’s all it is.”

           “Got to pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues.” The right edge of Paul’s mouth was starting to perk up.

           “Yeah.” Peter tugged absently at his bangs, trying not to let himself get too good a look at what he’d been seeing since before he even auditioned for KISS. The semi-permanent dye they all used worked fine on brown hair, but it was useless on gray. The streaks were more obvious against the jet-black backdrop than they’d ever been when he left his hair alone. “Look, I’m not gonna quit, I swear. If we have to end the tour, we have to end the tour. We get dropped from the label, we get dropped from the label. We lick our wounds and we try somewhere else. But until then, we got awhile in this hotel.”

           “And no shows.”

           “Yeah.” Four shows opening for some redneck band. Outlaws or something. That was another depressing thing. Peter had always expected to at least be friendly with the bands they were the lead-in for, but they’d only been met with indifference at best and hostility at worst. Never ended up opening for the same band more than a handful of times, either. It just made the whole tour all the lonelier.

           He realized after a second that Paul was staring at him. The guy had a weird stare. Kind of like a broke bagboy waiting on his tip, or maybe just like a girl who was really hoping for a proposal. Big-eyed, eager, and not remotely calculating. It might have pissed Peter off, if Paul didn’t always follow it up with an abashed grin once he was caught.

           “You’re thinking about something.”

           “Yeah. I’m thinking we all need cheering up.”

           “You need cheering up, Peter.”

           “You just finished telling me you’d die if you didn’t make it, Paul.” He paused, still staring at the fridge. “And fuck, I’m gonna die if I have to eat at McDonalds one more time.”

           “Well, they’ve got Steak ’n Shake here, if you’d rather.”

           Peter groaned.

           “Not when you’re in a fucking blouse and heels. The crowd thinking we’re fruits is bad enough.” Before Paul could even stammer out a protest, something about it being rock and roll, or about needing more practice in the heels—God, c’mon—Peter continued. “No. I thought we could make our own dinner while we’re here. Really make it, not just sandwiches and shit. Real food. We got the kitchen for it. And it’d save Bill some money. You know how to cook, right?” He knew Gene didn’t. Ace just wouldn’t.

           “I’d hope so. My mom started leaving us home alone when I was eight.”

           “Poor, poor little Paulie.” Peter rolled his eyes. “We could—we could make it themed, even. Make out like it’s a restaurant. Menus and shit. Invite the guys down for dinner.”

           Paul brightened, which surprised him. Usually he’d be sore for hours over the slightest crack at his expense, like some spoiled, anxious kid. But for once, he actually seemed excited.

           “Like Italian one night, maybe? We could make pizza…”