The Greatest Single Panel In The History Of Comic Books

I’m reading an anthology of Wonder Woman comics from the fifties at the moment, an anthology put together to highlight the… wackier side of the Amazon’s legacy. Creator William Moulton Marston passed away from cancer in 1947 and so in the fifties, the candle was passed to writer Robert Kanigher who, with artist Harry G. Peter, gave us a Wonder Woman with a more madcap edge (and less of a focus on bondage, tbf). Kanigher seems to have been weirdly obsessed with making up stories for how Diana had acquired the accoutrements of her alter-ego, such as the bulletproof bracelets, tiara and lasso, to the extent of making up different versions of the stories that gave no regard for continuity.

Then, in 1956, in a tale about how she acquired her invisible plane, he gave us this gem.

Since the moment I read this, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. And if you’re wondering why the fascination, you need to stop reading, step back and think about it for a moment. The Waterfront Gang, presumably some band of nefarious underworld mobsters of the sort that WW routinely faced off against in her early days, have taken over… a Ferris Wheel. And turned it into an “armed fort”.

It is INSANE.

I mean, read any comics from the period and it’s clear that, far from the continuity-obsessed creators today who grew up loving comic books and want to build on a legacy and explore the boundaries of the medium, most guys (and let’s face it, it was guys) who wrote comics in the 50s and 60s had more of an anything-goes perspective, either from a who-gives-a-shit-it’s-for-kids mindset or because they had genuine mental problems.

But this panel is INSANE.

A gang of mobsters took over a Ferris Wheel. And look at them! They’re not using the fairground to launder money, or as a cover for a bootlegging operation; they’re not capitalising on the money-making opportunities. They just got on the Ferris Wheel, made it their base and started shooting shit up. Including, if you look at the angles, each other. What the hell is their endgame here? How did this idea even get off the ground??

“Hey boss, I found us a great new hideout!”

“Oh yeah? What is it, an abandoned warehouse down by the docks?”

“No…”

“You take over a new speakeasy?”

“No, boss, it’s better than that.”

“So, what is it?”

“We should take over the Ferris Wheel! Think about it. We can all sit in the little bucket seats, going round and round. Any given moment, 75% of the crew are too high for anyone to do anything about! We can see the cops from a mile off! We can just start mowing people down! It’s perfect! And what’s more, the Funucci Family have taken over the Ghost Train – they’re makin’ mugs of us!”

I mean, what the actual hell is any of this about? I’d argue that almost any scenario played out in a comic book, you could find, somehow, some kind of tenuous internal logic for. But this… this is just batshit insane. I genuinely now want to write a short story about this. The gang that took over a Ferris Wheel and turned it into an “armed fort”. I’ve no idea why Wonder Woman isn’t more weirded out by these guys.

It might genuinely be my favourite single panel I’ve ever read.

I love comics, I should add. It looks like I’m mocking (and I really am), but I dig both the rich, complex world of modern sequential art and the eh-this’ll-do approach of some of the classic era, and everything in between. I love that this exists and I love, especially, that kids in the fifties would have had no reaction to this other than “Woah, cool!” In fact, I don’t know if there are any plans for Gal Gadot to take up the bracelets and lasso again, but whenever another Wonder Woman movie or tv show is on its way, I’m going to petition for her to face off against a bunch of guys on a Ferris Wheel. Because this panel is GLORIOUS.

Revisiting a childhood classic

In writing: On Friday I spent the afternoon polishing the new story for my collection, and sent that off to my publisher for her to have a look at. I’m expecting notes back on the main bulk of the text this week, so I’m going to be plunging headlong into that very soon. The new story actually came pretty quickly, wrote the first draft in one sitting – once I’ve got the idea, it really flowed. Hopefully I can repeat that trick, but I need a couple of ideas. It’d be nice to have a couple more down by mid-August, when I’m heading back down to London for another Deixis event (the first since joining the imprint).

I’ve also been looking into writer-in-residence schemes, something that I feel would be a beneficial way of building up my profile, as well as an opportunity to get out and see a bit of the world.

Other than that, my head is still buzzing with ideas for the next Ray Adams book, which is good if somewhat less than ideal timing. I figure once I get my head properly back into the short story collection, I’ll be able to more efficiently park the Ray project until this year’s NaNoWriMo.

Anxiety’s been a bit recurrent of late. Last Tuesday was a fairly ghastly day for it and this weekend past has been fairly up and down as well. One of the downsides of the writing life taking off (let’s call it that) is that it’s given a new avenue of attack for my self-doubt to exploit. The most recent Ray Adams, while well-received by those who’ve read it, has nevertheless sold very poorly. I guess I’d rather that than sell loads to people who all thought it was terrible, but it’d be nice to shift a few more. I should be getting my next royalties for Playtime’s Over soon so I’m planning to use some of that to give Eschatonus a push*, but there’s definitely a gap between my ability to write a book and my ability to sell one.

Crucially, the Ray Adams stuff is, I must remember, a fun thing for me, not a revenue stream. While it still gives me pleasure to write them, I’ll still write them. I just need to monitor my mental health and ensure I’m not creating a new avenue of exposure.

Outside writing: It’s been a decent week or so for film watching. Finally got around to seeing (and enjoying) John Carpenter’s classic Assault on Precinct 13 and the recent Ghostbusters: Afterlife. We also thoroughly enjoyed Audrey Cummings’ intriguing and very bloody supernatural horror She Never Died, which I very much recommend.

Highlight of the week, though, was unquestionably Jim Archer’s Brian and Charles. The hilarious, moving and utterly charming tale of a loner (Brian) and his attempt to build himself a companion (Charles). The opening twenty minutes were about the most hysterical I’ve ever enjoyed at the cinema, to the extent that it’s actually a good thing that the film settled down a bit after that, or I might have burst something. The plot, such as it is, is a tad predictable – none of the narrative beats wrongfoot you in any way – but it barely matters as the joy is in the detail. Out in cinemas now, I can’t praise this enough. It’s an absolute delight from start to finish.

I’ve also been hitting up the library’s collection of Johnny Red. I was a big fan of Battle comic when I was a kid, in its 1983-86 Battle Action Force incarnation (though I devoured any back issues I could get my hands on too). Probably the most famous story it ran is Charley’s War, Pat Mills’ and Joe Colquhoun’s epic WWI story that didn’t shy away from the horror of the trenches. My personal favourite, though, was Johnny Red, Battle‘s longest running series (much like M*A*S*H, Red ran for several years longer than the war it was set in), also by artist Joe Colquhoun working this time with writer Tom Tully. Johnny ‘Red’ Redburn was an English pilot falsely accused of killing an officer, who steals a Hawker Hurricane and ends up joining a Russian squadron. While liberally marinated in the kind of “Take that, Jerry!” schoolboy jingoism that tends to dominate war comics; like Charley’s War, it didn’t shy away from showing the trauma and darkness (unlike, arguably, the likes of the still-running Commando). Johnny Red was the first time I learned about the horrors of the Eastern Front, the siege of Leningrad and the barbaric nightmare that was the Battle of Stalingrad. The Russians were portrayed as a fierce, determined people who were literally battling for their very existence, with women on the frontline alongside men and entire cities reduced to ruins and rubble. It also bestowed upon me a lifelong affection for the Hurricane over its more heralded sister plane, the Spitfire. Revisiting these stories now, I’m pleasantly surprised to see how well they hold up, and to learn that Johnny Redburn was inspired by real-life Hurricane pilot Arthur Burr.

Before the Royal Navy had proper aircraft carriers, as a makeshift way of providing air support to their Atlantic convoys in WWII, CAM Ships (Catapult Aircraft Merchant Ships) used to fire Hurricanes from deck-based catapults into the air when they were attacked. Because there was no way of landing them again, pilots who survived the encounter were then faced with a choice of parachuting out of their planes or ditching them in the ocean, hoping to be picked up before they drowned or died from exposure. In a battle in Sept 1942, Burr decided to fly to a Russian aerodrome instead, landing practically on fumes. This made him the only Hurricat (the nickname given to the catapult-launched Hurricanes) pilot to ever return his aircraft safely, an act for which he was rewarded the DFC. Unlike Johnny Red, Burr returned to active duty in the RAF rather than falling in with a rogue Russian outfit, but his actions nevertheless provided the seed for Johnny Red. It’s been very pleasing to revisit this childhood favourite.

* if there’s any left after I’ve bought this

So Easily Distracted

In writing: Disciplined myself this morning, forced myself to sit down at the keyboard and write. Managed a 2k session before lunch and might even squeeze in some more this afternoon. I’m becoming conscious of time passing. Playtime’s Over came out nearly a year ago and as yet, I’ve nothing by way of a follow-up ready.

Granted, during that time, I’ve pumped out a number of Ray Adams books. Truth be told, I don’t think that this is a bad output for two years…

Ray 4 – 1 James

But I’m conscious of the fact that as much as I enjoy the Ray work, and as much as I plan to continue with it, what I want is another book with my own name on it.

I’ve alluded a couple of weeks ago to the fact that I’m currently talking to a publisher about a project. Still early days, but it’s an encouraging sign. No details, but it’s to do with something I started writing years ago and finished last year. What I’m starting to wonder about is what am I working on now.

Getting your stuff out there, as I’ve said before, is the start of the job, not the end of it. Especially if you’re self-publishing. Keeping your socials active, your website updated, running your giveaways*, thinking about ads, putting together assets for your posts, researching what other people are doing, writing blogs… All of this is valuable work, an essential part of being an author in the modern age. But, of course, none of it is actually writing.

This is one of the benefits of NaNoWriMo. You have a dedicated period of time with a wordcount and a deadline so that even if you’re only writing for yourself, you’ve a massive incentive to just get on with it. But I don’t want to wait until November before I next have a concentrated period of creativity.

There comes a time when you have to just knuckle down and put all that other stuff aside. So while I wait to find out the outcome of the talking mentioned above, I’m finally starting to make headway with the first non-genre project I’ve worked on since I finished writing Playtime, around two years ago.

Outside writing: The ongoing project to sort out the comic collection continues. We’re in Marvel territory at the moment and this weekend I’ve been revisiting a couple of Neil Gaiman miniseries.

1602

Eternals

1602 (published 2003, art by Andy Kubert) is a fun series that, as the title suggests, reimagines a lot of the Marvel Characters in the 17th century. Disappointingly, it turns out that the reason these characters are in this time period is related to some timey-wimey shennanigans, so it is all tied back to contemporary times. Feels like it might have been more interesting if it was just its own thing. But that said, the way the characters are reinvented, and the diverse pantheon of characters involved, makes for exciting reading.

His 7-issue run of Eternals (2006, art by John Romita Jnr) is more satisfying. I was a big fan of the recent MCU Eternals movie, and Gaiman’s book was the source of some of the elements in the movie. Romita Jnr’s art is really unique and gives the book the different feel the characters demand, despite Iron Man also featuring in the story. The concept, from comics legend Jack Kirby, is really out there and reading this series underlines to me what a great job Chloe Zhao made of the film. Much like the film, reading this series has made me hungry to read more.

As for films, last weekend we rewatched The Silence of the Lambs, which still makes for a gripping, intense watch even if one is more aware watching it as an adult of how much Hopkins is making a meal of it. It’s a sign of the quality of the film that when he disappears for the last third of the film, you don’t miss him.

I’ve also been polishing my nerd credentials. Roger Corman is one of those names I’ve been aware of for years, but never had any familiarity with. This week I watched The Wasp Woman and, like X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes and A Bucket of Blood before it, I really enjoyed it, to the extent that I’ve decided I must be a fan. Susan Cabot, much like Ray Milland in X, puts in a performance that’s of a higher quality than the film perhaps deserves but there’s undeniably a lot to enjoy about all of these films. So I’ll be searching more Corman out, definitely.

* we got our two winners for the Eschatonus giveaway in the end, hurrah!

Busy busy busy

As mentioned, I’ve been off work this week and it’s actually been a productive week! I’ve made a concerted effort on the new novel, getting over 11k words done over the past few days, including a PB of 5k on Thursday. As a result, I’ve spent a LOT of this week with this view…

… only with a Word document open, obviously. So far it’s going well, I’m not hating it, which is always a massive bonus. I’m not 100% sure I’m achieving what I want to with it just yet, but if we can get something down, we can work on it later. It’s coming though, that’s the main thing. I’ve got another day on it tomorrow, before we reach November and the start of NaNoWriMo. Ray Adams fans, your next adventure is nearly starting…

I have also stuck to my pledge to sort my comics out. We have a spreadsheet (naturally) and now we’ve reordered the contents of all the boxes in the loft into a more useful arrangement. That took a few days and now I’ve brought the first of those back down so I can go through and see what I want to keep and what I want to lose. First up is my box of Daredevil and Elektra comics and I’ve already decided that this might be the most embarrassing item (not even comic, just item full stop) I own.

I mean, why is she dressed like that? What is that outfit made of? Why are her breasts completely spherical? Is she wearing pants? Why is the art on the inside (sorry, Chuck Austen) even worse? This is from twenty years ago, mind, and the writing’s not bad. Jury’s still out on if I’m keeping this run.

Following on from Richard Gadz’s kind words about Playtime’s Over last week (The Workshop of Filthy Creation is out this week!), this week I’ve been positively giddy over this. Read to the bottom, then back in the warm glow of my delight. Also got a kind message from author Marc Joan who I met recently and who also seemed to enjoy the book.

Other things I’ve been up to this week? Well, Monday, Vuvu and I went to see Louis Pearl a.k.a. The Amazing Bubble Man do his thing at Norwich Playhouse. We might have been the only people there without children, but it was a great show and I make no apology for enjoying watching a man blow amazing bubbles for an hour. I’ve seen Dune, which turns out to be every bit as po-faced and silly as the book – nobody could ever accuse Villeneuve of not making visually stunning cinema though. I have to say, mind, if he was going to break the story up into multiple features anyway, did the first one have to be two and a half hours long? Ponderous.

Had a final October blowout at Zak’s on Barrack St, where I was unable to finish my meal (what’s happened to me???), for a friend’s birthday. And squeezed in a game of Scythe with another friend on Thursday night. I love my boardgames. Scythe is one my niece has loaned us and it’s great fun. It looks like one of those six-hour epics, with hundreds of pieces, but it’s actually very intuitive, once you get going, and a two player game should only last a couple of hours tops, even first time out. It abandons the traditional phased approach (movement phase, combat phase, building phase etc) that so many of its peers have as a staple, in favour of a simple choice of four sets of actions, each player taking it in turn to do one or two actions and then moving round. It’s got a really nice aesthetic and a well-designed learning curve – limited options at the beginning that widen as you proceed with the game, so it’s designed with learning-the-game-as-you-go in mind. Most strikingly of all, it’s a game with warring factions that minimises conflict in favour of deterrents. You can attack your opponents, but it’s always at a price and it has to be worth it. I think it’s a really well put together game that, as I say, doesn’t involve the commitment of a weekend to enjoy.

Delightful

S and I went to see Robin Ince last night, on his The Chaos Of Delight tour. It was, as ever with Robin, and mixture of fascinating and hilarious, as he took us through a whirlwind tour of some of the things that give him delight, via scattergun anecdotes, continual self-interruption and a succession of silly voices. He was prompted to put the show together by a Robert Rauschenberg about how art is often perceived as coming from a place of pain, and Rauschenberg wondering why it can’t come from a place of joy.

I have used this blog a lot to talk about Mental Health issues, and my own experiences, out of a desire to exorcise my own demons, and maybe to show even just one or two people that they’re not alone. It can get, admittedly a little heavy. Robin’s show is a good reminder that sometimes it’s important to think about the things that give us joy, not just use the internet to sound off on the things that bring us down or fill us with fury. It made me want to sit down and write a list of  just some of the things, in no particular order, that give me joy…

• Jacques Tati
• Frida Kahlo
• Josie Long
• Monkey
• Jon Pertwee-era Doctor Who -the perfect era to bring up when people start wanging on about how Doctor Who “shouldn’t be about social issues” because he really, really was. Davison was “my Doctor” growing up, I was just that bit too young for Baker, T. But watching old Who now, Pertwee is my go-to. Not my favourtie Doctor, per se, but my favourite era.
• Death On The Nile – the film, rather than the book or play. A whodunnit I know inside out yet can watch over and over again for it’s magnificent cast and sumptuous setting.
• Karl Ove Knausgaard
• Cello sonatas
• Richard Alston
• Haruki Murakami
• The Hernandez Brothers – whose Love & Rockets characters have grown with them, so the teens they wrote about in the eighties are now middle aged women, and that depth of character portrayal is magnificent.
• Daniel Clowes
• Adrian Tomine – who writes amazing and insightful, low-key comics about real life, and who has also contributed cover artwork for…
• Eels
• Matthew Bourne
• Jean Helion – we visited the Picasso museum in Barcelona, mainly because it seemed the thing to do, rather than either of us having a huge love of Picasso, and it was okay, though it didn’t convert me. But they also at the time had a temporary exhibition of works by Helion, and that absolutely mesmerised me. His ‘Nude With Loaves‘ is a wonderful painting.
• Daniel Knox
• Blind Willie McTell
• Robert Doisneau – whose photographs of Paris in the 30s, 40s and 50s are captivating.
• Gabriel Faure
• NASA
• Jamie Smart – who makes comics that are a frenetic mash-up of highly detailed chaos and nonsense.
• Wes Anderson
• Ken Liu’s Dandelion Dynasty
• John Crome
• Noah Baumbach
• Garrison Keillor – whose books taught me that it’s possible to find something absurd and still show love to it as you mock it.
• Tom Waits
• Lego
• Joseph Stannard  – whose Yarmouth Sands, Norfolk might just be one of my favourite paintings in the world.
• The Enchanted April – the book, rather than the film, which I’ve yet to see.
• Douglas Coupland
• Coffee
• Melchior d’Hondecoeter’s Allegory Of William III’s War in the Low Countries – which is one of the most batshit crazy 17th Century paintings I’ve ever seen, and is magnificent.
• Robin Ince
• EMF
• Yves Tanguy
• Jimmy Stewart
• Parks And Recreation – sheer undiluted joy in 22 minute bite-size chunks.
• The Fast Show – UK TV’s finest sketch show, for it’s impressive hit rate alone, and for having Simon Day in it.
• Greta Gerwig
• Alison Brie
• Tatty old sci-fi paperbacks – the sort of thing where men fly spaceships and smoke pipes, from a time where sci-fi was synonymous with ideas more than action.
• Lucy Worsley
• Janina Ramirez
• Isaac Asimov’s Foundation
• Postcards – I can’t leave an art gallery without purchasing at least two or three postcards, which as souvenirs go are cheap and delightful. Sending them is great too, as who gets actual post these days? Just a few lines on a card, and a stamp, and a friend gets a little lift in their day.
• Katherine Ryan
• Sam Simmons
• Frank Cho  – particularly his covers for Liberty Meadows, which are beautiful.
• Norwich
• Westerns
• John Sell Cotman
• Toblerone
• My wife

There is so much in the world that can bring you down, but there is so much joy and wonder too. If you’ve not done so in a while, take five minutes today and think about something that gives you joy, and remember that life can be splendid.