Comics As A Nexus PDF

Comics as a
Nexus of Cultures
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CRITICAL EXPLORATIONS IN SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY
(a series edited by Donald E. Palumbo and C.W. Sullivan III)
1. Worlds Apart? Dualism and Transgression
in Contemporary Female Dystopias (Dunja M. Mohr, 2005)
2. Tolkien and Shakespeare: Essays on
Shared Themes and Language (ed. Janet Brennan Croft, 2007)
3. Culture, Identities and Technolog y in the Star Wars Films: Essays on
the Two Trilogies (ed. Carl Silvio and Tony M. Vinci, 2007)
4. The Inuence of Star Trek on Television, Film and Culture (ed. Lincoln Geraghty, 2008)
5. Hugo Gernsback and the Century of Science Fiction (Gary Westfahl, 2007)
6. One Earth, One People: The Mythopoeic Fantasy Series of Ursula K. Le Guin,
Lloyd Alexander, Madeleine LEngle and Orson Scott Card (Marek Oziewicz, 2008)
7. The Evolution of Tolkiens Mytholog y: A Study
of the History of Middle-earth (Elizabeth A. Whittingham, 2008)
8. H. Beam Piper: A Biography ( John F. Carr, 2008)
9. Dreams and Nightmares: Science and Technolog y in Myth and Fiction (Mordecai Roshwald, 2008)
10. Lilith in a New Light: Essays on the
George MacDonald Fantasy Novel (ed. Lucas H. Harriman, 2008)
11. Feminist Narrative and the Supernatural: The Function of
Fantastic Devices in Seven Recent Novels (Katherine J. Weese, 2008)
12. The Science of Fiction and the Fiction of Science: Collected Essays on SF Storytelling
and the Gnostic Imagination (Frank McConnell, ed. Gary Westfahl, 2009)
13. Kim Stanley Robinson Maps the Unimaginable: Critical Essays (ed. William J. Burling, 2009)
14. The Inter-Galactic Playground: A Critical Study
of Childrens and Teens Science Fiction (Farah Mendlesohn, 2009)
15. Science Fiction from Qubec: A Postcolonial Study (Amy J. Ransom, 2009)
16. Science Fiction and the Two Cultures: Essays on Bridging the Gap Between
the Sciences and the Humanities (ed. Gary Westfahl and George Slusser, 2009)
17. Stephen R. Donaldson and the Modern Epic Vision: A Critical Study
of the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant Novels (Christine Barkley, 2009)
18. Ursula K. Le Guins Journey to Post-Feminism (Amy M. Clarke, 2010)
19. Portals of Power: Magical Agency and Transformation in Literary Fantasy (Lori M. Campbell, 2010)
20. The Animal Fable in Science Fiction and Fantasy (Bruce Shaw, 2010)
21. Illuminating Torchwood: Essays on Narrative, Character and Sexuality
in the BBC Series (ed. Andrew Ireland, 2010)
22. Comics as a Nexus of Cultures: Essays on the Interplay of Media, Disciplines and
International Perspectives (ed. Mark Berninger, Jochen Ecke and Gideon Haberkorn, 2010)
23. The Anatomy of Utopia: Narration, Estrangement and Ambiguity in
More, Wells, Huxley and Clarke (Kroly Pintr, 2010)
Comics as a
Nexus of Cultures
Essays on the Interplay
of Media, Disciplines and
International Perspectives
Edited by MARK BERNINGER,
JOCHEN ECKE and GIDEON HABERKORN
CRITICAL EXPLORATIONS IN
SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY, 22
Donald E. Palumbo and C.W. Sullivan III, series editors
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers

Jefferson, North Carolina, and London
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Comics as a nexus of cultures : essays on the interplay of media,
disciplines and international perspectives / edited by Mark Berninger,
Jochen Ecke, and Gideon Haberkorn.
[Donald Palumbo and C.W. Sullivan III, series editors]
p. cm. (Critical explorations in science fiction
and fantasy ; 22)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-7864-3987-4
softcover : 50# alkaline paper
1. Comic books, strips, etc. History and criticism.

2. Animated lms History and criticism. I. Berninger, Mark.
II. Ecke, Jochen, 1979 . III. Haberkorn, Gideon, 1976 .
PN6714.C6515 2010
741.5' 9 dc22 2009051817
British Library cataloguing data are available
2010 Mark Berninger, Jochen Ecke and Gideon Haberkorn.

All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying
or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
On the cover: (clockwise from top) superhero (2010 DigitalVision);

single frame from My New York Diary (2004, Julie Doucet); super-
hero turtle (2010 Verena Reinhardt); manga girl (2010 ATOMix)
Manufactured in the United States of America
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers

Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640
www.mcfarlandpub.com
Table of Contents
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
INTERMEDIAL
1. Spatializing the Movie Screen: How Mainstream Cinema
Is Catching Up on the Formal Potentialities of the
Comic Book Page . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Jochen Ecke
2. The Marvel Universe on Screen: A New Wave of
Superhero Movies? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Andreas Rauscher
3. From Trauma Victim to Terrorist: Redening Superheroes
in Post9/11 Hollywood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Dan A. Hassler-Forest
4. Picture This: Disease and Autobiographic Narration in
the Graphic Novels of David B and Julie Doucet . . . . . . . 45
Jonas Engelmann
5. Novel-Based Comics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
Paul Ferstl
6. In the Art of the Beholder: Comics as Political Journalism . . . 70
Dirk Vanderbeke
INTERNATIONAL
7. The Carrefour of Practice: Qubec BD in Transition . . . . . . 85
Michel Hardy-Valle
8. The Use of Allusion in Apitz and Kunkels Karl Comics . . . . . 99
Sandra Martina Schwab
vii
viii TABLE OF CONTENTS
9. Cultural Specics of a Scottish Comic: Oor Wullie . . . . . . 108

Anne Hoyer
10. Memento Mori: A Portuguese Style of Melancholy . . . . . . 116
Mario Gomes and Jan Peuckert
11. Otherness and the European as Villain and Antihero
in American Comics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Georg Drennig
12. 2000AD: Understanding the British Invasion of
American Comics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
Ben Little
13. Whatever Happened to All the Heroes? British
Perspectives on Superheroes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Karin Kukkonen and Anja Mller-Wood
14. A Cornerstone of Turkish Fantastic Films:
From Flash Gordon to Baytekin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
Meral znar
15. From Capes to Snakes: The Indianization of the
American Superhero . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175
Suchitra Mathur
16. The Roving Eye Meets Traveling Pictures: The Field
of Vision and the Global Rise of Adult Manga . . . . . . . 187
Holger Briel
17. Kawaii vs. Rorikon: The Reinvention of the Term Lolita
in Modern Japanese Manga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
Dinah Zank
18. Mangascape Germany: Comics as Intercultural
Neutral Ground . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223
Paul M. Malone
INTERDISCIPLINARY
19. Workshop I: Toward a Toolbox of Comics Studies . . . . . . 237
Karin Kukkonen and Gideon Haberkorn
20. Workshop II: Comics in School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
Mark Berninger
Table of Contents ix
21. Workshop III: Teaching Comics and Literary Studies

Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess A Midsummer
Nights Dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
Mark Berninger
22. Workshop IV: Teaching Comics and Film Studies
Ang Lees The Hulk (USA 2003) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
Andreas Rauscher
23. Comic Linguistics: Comics and Cartoons in
Academic Teaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
Christina Sanchez
About the Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
Introduction
Comics are arguably younger than literature, certainly older than mov-
ing pictures. Nevertheless, they have received less critical attention than either,
and more importantly, they are the only one of the three media not to have
an academic discipline devoted to it: The nineteenth century saw the rise of
literary studies, the twentieth century the birth of lm studies, but as yet no
university has a department of comics studies. An obvious reason seems to
be that comics are much more strongly rooted in popular culture than either
lm or literature, and thus often not taken as seriously. A second reason is
that comics are not as distinct from the subject matter of the existing disci-
plines as these are from each other. It is difcult to argue that a lm is a kind
of novel or painting, but it is tempting for scholars of literature to regard
comics as novels with pictures a trend helped by labeling them graphic nov-
els just as it is tempting for art scholars to view them as pictures with text,
or for lm scholars to treat them as frozen lm. Comics manifest at the inter-
section of text, image, and sequence. Because they are a hybrid form, it is
deceptively easy to focus on their similarities to other media, and ignore their
uniqueness. Yet, while comics are similar to the subject matter of many dis-
ciplines, they are also markedly different.
Literature, both written and oral, is an exercise in sequential linearity.
Texts are like a river, owing on in a line, just like this one, from left to right,
or from right to left, usually top to bottom, page to page to page. Pictures,
on the other hand, are like lakes, not owing at all, just lying there mean-
ingful surfaces, abstractions, reductions of three-dimensional events into two-
dimensional circumstances. When reading pictures, our eyes scan the surface,
constructing temporal and meaningful sequences. As the picture remains static
while the text ows past, our eyes are more or less* free to roam, and thus
*The eye does have preferred lines of movement across a picture, the so-called saccadic lines. However,
they are not nearly as strictly imposed upon the eye as the reading order of written text.
1
2 INTRODUCTION
the picture exists in a magical world in which time is not a line but a com-
plex loop, and in which everything can acquire a temporal and causal con-
nection to everything else: In a textual world, the sun rises and causes the
cock to crow; in a pictorial world, the rising sun means the crowing cock,
and vice versa. Thus, pictures are not simply frozen events, but rather com-
plex circumstances.* A comic combines text and pictures into something quite
unlike either. While there are comics which feature no words at all, most of
them present a sequence of pictures featuring some form of text. The most
obvious uses of writing in comics are dialogue, usually enclosed in a bubble,
and narrative summary, usually separated from the picture and enclosed in a
clean frame of its own. Writing also frequently represents sounds, usually
through more or less onomatopoeic word creations, and sometimes even
smells, emotions, and movements. All of these can alternatively be represented
through graphic symbols (in the case of smells, for example, these are con-
ventionally vertical wavy lines).
The comics use of pictorial sequence has led many scholars to compare
it to lm, which just like a comparison to literature or art unfortunately
causes them to ignore many unique features of the comic. Unlike most lm,
for example, the comic routinely displays a high degree of abstraction. Thus
any details that are presented are automatically emphasized, simply because
they are not left out. This abstraction may well make the comic visually more
simple though not more simplistic and thus more accessible. The comic
is also extremely exible when it comes to the form of its pictures: Frames
can vary in size and shape; the lines of the frame can be omitted altogether;
the picture can even expand to ll the whole page. However, the most note-
worthy aspect of the comic may well be its idiosyncratic treatment of time:
One frame in any comic can include sounds, smells, and dialogue, as well as
several consecutive actions. This means that the frames of a comic have an
even more complex temporal nature than ordinary pictures, quite simply
because several events are depicted, all of which take time and not all of which
happen simultaneously. By including more or less events, by repeating single
frames, by varying their shape and size, the comic can stretch or compress
time.
Despite its sequential nature, the comic may also be best suited to illus-
trate the fragmentary nature of time. By breaking the ow of their stories into
panels, comics draw attention to the fragmentary nature of narrative, and
indeed of experience. They have, despite their name, been used to tell very
serious stories about the fragmented experience of revolution, war, and ter-
*Cf. Vilm Flusser. Fr eine Philosophie der Fotographie (Gttingen: European Photography, 1983,
8 9).
Introduction 3
rorism, but have also been employed to capture the very mundane fragmen-
tation of autobiographical memory. In an essay in the present work, Jonas
Engelmann explores the ability of comics to tell very personal and individ-
ual stories, while Dan Hassler-Forest discusses the way they can serve as pub-
lic trauma narratives (with an eye on 9/11 but also with potential other uses).
They can also adopt the more detached stance of political journalism, as Dirk
Vanderbeke argues. Comics are thus a potential nexus of the public and the
private, the social and the personal, and they may be uniquely suited to
describe the multiple fragments of human experience.
As there is as yet no tradition of comics studies, it is illuminating to ana-
lyze adaptations, both from other media into comics and from comics into
other media, and note which aspects and elements are retained and which are
changed and in the process explore which tools can be imported from lit-
erary studies, lm studies, art theory, or any other eld. Thus, Paul Ferstl dis-
cusses comic versions of novels, while Andreas Rauscher and Jochen Ecke
take a look at lm versions of comics. Comics emerge as a nexus between var-
ious art forms as they share characteristics with many of them but are ulti-
mately distinct from all of them. Comics have proven to be eminently exible
in adopting material and techniques of other art forms and have at the same
time themselves fuelled lm (comic adaptations, comic-style action cinema),
literature and pictorial art with their unique stories, medial quality and their
direct recourse to pop culture.
Another kind of adaptation is that from one country to another, which
helps illuminate the idiosyncrasies of both cultures concerned and their inter-
connectedness. There are essays in this collection focusing on the transplan-
tation of specic comics, as well as whole movements and national styles.
There are also discussions of the depiction of other cultures, specically of
Europeans as villains in American comics (Drennig). The other side of the
coin is of course the use of the hero or even superhero as a more or less nation-
alistic identication gure, a crystallization of a cultures views and values
(Hoyer). The essay by Karin Kukkonen and Anja Mller-Wood and those by
Ben Little, Meral znar, and Suchitra Mathur explore what happens if such
heroes are suddenly created, or recreated, by artists from other cultures.
Comics have developed several distinctive national schools some better
known, such as the Franco-Belgian Bande Dessine or the Japanese Manga,
some less well known, such as the Portuguese (Gomes and Peuckert) or Ger-
man (Schwab) but they also display a strong inherent potential for inter-
national reception, which allows them to transcend cultural boundaries easily.
In some cases, like in francophone Canada, two national comics styles come
into direct contact and thus create a fascinating hybrid (Hardy-Valle).
Another special and highly illuminating case is the global rise and spread of
4 INTRODUCTION
manga (Briel, Zank, Malone). Comics thus often form a very complex nexus
between cultures, and this collection is unique in featuring academic voices
from a variety of cultural backgrounds, discussing a truly international col-
lection of works.
It seems only natural that the place of comics in academia should also
be discussed both where they can be used in teaching (as discussed by
Christina Sanchez and in the workshop reports by Berninger and Rauscher),
and also where they can be the central object of study.
This collection is the result of a conference that took place in May 2007.
Academic conferences, if they are any good, are an opportunity to see the
rather abstract academic discourse manifest as conversation between schol-
ars in the corridors between sessions, over dinner, in the evenings at the
bar. If you will, such conversations are the nexus of academia. While this col-
lection cannot capture the lively exchange of ideas that took place between
the scheduled paper sessions, it does include reports from the two workshops
held on the second day. While these exchanges were slightly more formalized
and focused than the casual exchanges over dinner, they happened in the pres-
ence of a recording device, or a notepad. Thus, the reports by Berninger,
Haberkorn and Kukkonen, and Rauscher can at least provide a snapshot of
a limited section of the academic discourse on comics.
Comics have long been marginalized by critics and academics. They have
been described as a fringe phenomenon, or, all too often, they have been
ignored altogether. Yet, as this essay collection shows, comics are in fact cen-
tral in many ways they do not exist on the edges, but rather form a nexus
between various areas and aspects of culture and cultures. While the 19th cen-
tury saw the rise of the study of literature, and the 20th century saw the devel-
opment of lm studies as an academic discipline, comic studies have so far
failed to materialize. It may be one of the new and exciting areas of the 21st
century, and this collection offers a wide selection of perspectives and direc-
tions that may serve as starting points for future exploration.
INTERMEDIAL
1
Spatializing the Movie Screen:
How Mainstream Cinema
Is Catching Up on the Formal
Potentialities of the Comic Book Page
Jochen Ecke
In March of 2007 I got to sit down and talk with David Lloyd, the
British artist most famous for his work with writer Alan Moore on V for
Vendetta. The reason for the interview was the impending German publica-
tion of his graphic novel Kickback. When I told him that the structure and
style of his latest work appeared to have a lot in common with the way Hitch-
cock had laid out his 1964 lm Marnie, the cinematic comparison seemed to
strike a chord. The thing is, Lloyd said, Im more into movies. What Im
trying to do is to tell a story that is very much like a movie, using the same
techniques as in the cinema (Lloyd). This declaration of intent, coming from
one of Anglo-American comics master artists, struck me as somewhat odd.
Why was he so eager to declare his medium* of choice a mere variant of
another, presumably of the same nature and making use of the same basic
techniques? His remark made me think of something Federico Fellini, him-
self a great admirer of the medium, had once said about what the Italians call
fumetti:
Comics and the ghostly fascination of those paper people, paralysed in time,
marionettes without strings, unmoving, cannot be transposed to lm, whose
*When I speak of comics as a medium in this essay, I use the term, following Wolf, not in the restricted
sense of a technical or institutional channel of communication [...] but as a conventionally distinct means
of communication or expression (qtd. in Rajewsky 7). By the term convention, I understand, along
David Bordwells lines, a piece of artice that must be learned in order to be understood (Bordwell
1996, 88).
7
8 COMICS AS A NEXUS OF CULTURESINTERMEDIAL
allure is motion, rhythm, dynamic. It is a radically different means of address-

ing the eye, a different mode of expression [Fellini 122].
The statements could not be any more contradictory: here was Lloyd saying
that, to him at least, comics should be paper movies, and on the other hand,
there was Fellini stressing that the two forms had little if anything in common.
From an academic point of view, the question which is basically that
of the essential quality (or qualities) of the comics medium is of course a
lot more complex than the polar opposite attitudes expressed by Lloyd and
Fellini.* Certainly if one takes a look at a page from Lloyds Kickback, it would
be difcult to deny that the work has a cinematic quality to it. Many of the
techniques used by the British artist anthropocentric scaled framing meth-
ods, angle/reverse angle shots, etc. have been appropriated from the cinema.
But are they used to the same effect? And have they indeed been transported
to the comics medium without any modications? Upon closer inspection,
one will nd that there are many techniques at work on any given page of the
graphic novel that necessitate a consideration of the page as a whole, not just
as a sequence of shots. From a narrative point of view, most of these techniques
depend on the human eyes anarchic tendency to roam and to sometimes dis-
regard conventional sequence entirely. In this sense, Lloyd would probably
agree that the translation of cinematic conventions into the comics medium
always makes necessary or as in the case of the point-of-view shot in panel
seven makes possible changes, both of which owe to the fundamental dif-
ferences in the nature of the two mediums to be explored in this essay.
Kickback is certainly not the only instance one may cite to demonstrate
that comics have always been substantially inuenced by the cinema. The
lm industry, however, has largely ignored the vast formal potential of
comics until recently, that is. This essay will argue that, with the recent new
wave of comic book adaptations, lm directors have started to engage with
comics on a much more intricate level, clearly identifying those properties of
the medium that are entirely unique to it and using them in a cinematic con-
text, not just as a mere formal experiment, but to greatly enrich the work on
a thematic level as well. In order to substantiate and illustrate this claim, how-
ever, it will rst of all be necessary to demonstrate on a theoretical level just
what some of the unique properties of the comics medium might be.
*Asking for the essential quality or qualities of a given medium is, of course, in itself a highly prob-
lematic, but also a necessary step in an intermedial study such as this essay. In this respect, I wholly
agree with Irina Rajewsky, who argues that any analysis of intermedial phenomena will always have
to take into account that the perceived essential qualities of a given medium are, in fact, in no way
truly essential, but entirely based on historical circumstance (cf. Rajewsky 36). My identication and
discussion of the spatial properties of the comics medium in this essay is founded on the mediums cur-
rent conventional incarnation in printed, material form. The perception of comics might change rad-
ically, for example, with the move to the digital media.
1. Spatializing the Movie Screen (Ecke) 9
THE SPATIO-TOPIA OF THE COMIC BOOK PAGE(S)

Many contemporary scholars identify the features to be discussed here
by way of the parameters of space and time, which will also help to demon-
strate one of the most signicant differences between the two media. Comics
are an art form that exists xed and unchanging in space, on the page or on
a different carrier medium, as well as representing diegetic space visually; on
the other hand, a comic book also unfolds in time, meaning both the time
that elapses in the reading process and the story time established by the nar-
ration. In the cinematic medium, said time elapses all by itself. Many differ-
ent accounts of this specic quality of the lm image have been given. In
David Bordwells neo-formalist terminology, the phenomenon is called screen
duration or projection time (Bordwell 1985, 81) and refers to the absolutely
xed amount of time the projection of any given lm will take. In short, the
representation of time is inevitably part of the cinematic image.
No such claim can be made for the comic book page. As a matter of
fact, it can be considered particularly difcult to represent the passage of time
in the visual arts. Earlier generations of scholars even went so far as to declare
the ambition of establishing any sophisticated narration in the visual arts
nigh-on impossible, or at least undesirable. The founder of said school of
scholarship was Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, who in his Laocon study exam-
ines what to him are the narrow connes of the visual arts as opposed to
the wide sphere of the verbal (Lessing 114). To dene the critical difference,
Lessing introduces two concepts that would inform art historical debates for
centuries even to this day namely the distinction between spatial and tem-
poral arts. He posits that painting, in its quest for Aristotelian mimesis, makes
use of ganz andere Mittel, oder Zeichen [...] als die Poesie; jene nmlich Fig-
uren und Farben in dem Raume, diese aber artikulierte Tne in der Zeit
(Lessing 114). To paraphrase, the painter composes gures and forms on the
space of the canvas, thus creating, in cooperation with the beholder, the illu-
sion of real space. Represented on the canvas by various material means, we
can thus identify objects that exist in a spatial relation to each other, next
to each other in an illusory space.
Consequently, at least for Lessing, paintings range of expression is, or
rather should be,* severely limited. In Lessings words, nebeneinander geord-
nete Zeichen, that is, the signs in a painting, whose relation to each other
is purely spatial, can only express Gegenstnde, die nebeneinander, oder
deren Teile nebeneinander existieren, whereas poetry, because of the tem-
*As it turns out, Lessing is not really trying to demonstrate the essential qualities of the visual and
the verbal arts. Rather, he is trying to establish representational norms for both media. Cf. Breithaupt
for a modern-day, less dogmatic reading of the Laocon study.
poral sequence of the reading or listening process, can only express Gegen-
stnde [...] die aufeinander, oder deren Teile aufeinander folgen (Lessing
114). In short, according to Lessing, the ne arts should concentrate on the
representation of bodies (both natural and material), which in visual repre-
sentation supposedly stand in a purely spatial relationship to each other,
whereas poetry should focus on the representation of actions, that is, on nar-
rative.
This is, of course, a rather dogmatic view, disproved by countless works
of visual art that are clearly both temporal as well as spatial in nature (in
fact, the Laocoon statue Lessing studies provides a fairly good example of
visual narration). W.J.T. Mitchell offers a contemporary and far more balanced
conclusion to what has, since the days of Lessing, come to be called the Lao-
coon debate:
Painting presents bodies indirectly, through pictorial signs, but it does so less
indirectly than its presentation of actions. The representation of bodies is easy
or convenient for painting. The representation of actions is not impossible,
just more difcult or inconvenient [Mitchell 102].
It is this particular inconvenience that the comics medium has been
struggling with ever since its creation. Comics artists thus strove to tempor-
alize the space of the page with the use of a plethora of devices and the clever
transformation of the visual arts themselves: among many developments that
have been crucial in the development of the comics medium as we know it,
one may cite the use of what E.H. Gombrich calls the abbreviated style
(Gombrich 288) of caricature, that is, the reduction of noncommunicative
noise in visual representation, which partially eliminates the problem that
[t]he image is syntactically and semantically dense in that no mark may be
isolated as a unique, distinctive character (like a letter of an alphabet)
(Mitchell 67). The cartoonish or at the very least reductionist approach to
visual representation in most comic books can therefore be regarded as a
move away from the ideology of mimesis, from the idea of imitation and
observation of the visible world to that of an exploration of our own imita-
tive faculty (Gombrich 288). Or, as Benot Peeters puts it, in the comics
medium,
la rfrence un modle rel disparat. Le dessin ne renvoie plus linteriorit
dun sujet, mais une identit de papier, ne pour les besoins du rcit; il laisse
triompher le signe pur, linvention plutt que lobservation [Peeters 10].
Apart from this struggle to turn visual representation itself into a clearly
legible system of signs as comics pioneer Rodolphe Tpffer put it, signes
connus de tous, familiers tous (Tpffer 148) one may also cite such inven-
tions as the word balloon, the numerous uses of the frame or panel, or the
various possible relationships between the different frames of the comic book,
which Thierry Groensteen subsumes under the heading of arthrology (cf.
Groensteen 22ff.). All of these techniques and devices were introduced to fur-
ther what one may call orthodox comics narration. Will Eisner, certainly
one of the masters of this mode of comic book storytelling, sums up the
intention of the classical comics raconteur as follows:
The most important obstacle to surmount is the tendency of the readers eye to
wander. On any given page, for example, there is absolutely no way in which
the artist can prevent the reading of the last panel before the rst [...]. Without
[the] technical advantages [of lm] there is left to the sequential artist only the
tacit cooperation of the reader. This is limited to the convention of reading (left
to right, top to bottom, etc.) and the common cognitive disciplines. Indeed, it
is this very voluntary cooperation, so unique to comics, that underlies the con-
tract between artist and audience [Eisner 40].
In short, what the classical storyteller tries to prevent at all cost is that
the eye wanders in disregard of conventional sequence. To achieve this aim,
comics creators have overwritten the dominant spatial aspects of the page
with narrative cues in a long and difcult process of the temporalization of
the image, to the point where the continuity and linearity of narration has
become so absolute a value that comic book creators even appear to be afraid
of foregrounded spatiality, which is seen as the equivalent of chaos.
And yet, as Eisner indirectly points out here, it is precisely the spatial
nature of the page and the simultaneity of vision and perception (and con-
sequently, the absolute control of the reader) that is central to the experience
of the comics medium the fact that one cannot escape disregarding conven-
tional sequence in the reading process, at the very least subconsciously. Thierry
Groensteen describes the process of reading a comic book page in the follow-
ing way:
A page of comics is offered at rst to a synthetic global vision, but that cannot
be satisfactory. It demands to be traversed, crossed, glanced at, and analytically
deciphered. This moment-to-moment reading does not take a lesser account of
the totality of the panoptic eld that constitutes the page (or the double page),
since the focal vision never ceases to be enriched by peripheral vision [19].
Groensteens view can be substantiated by way of the ndings of mod-
ern-day science. When we are reading a comic book page, our perception is
made possible by a physiological phenomenon called the saccades, which are
conjunctive, consciously or unconsciously evoked eye movements that orientate
the fovea towards a point of special interest. Normally, when we explore our
environment or read a text, we perform 24 saccades per second. Saccades are
very fast, up to 900/s, and ballistic, i.e. once evoked a correction or
modication can only be made by the second, corrective saccade [Awater 4].
About the process of reading a comic book page, this scientic account
tells us that, even though we can make a conscious effort to direct our gaze,
to read just the text or just look at the images, the organisms unconscious
operations are far more complicated. We are always reading the text and the
images at the same time, in a manner that, again, does not necessarily follow
the linear cues given by the conventional signs on the page.
To sum up and draw conclusions from these ndings, then, one can say
along Groensteens lines that [c]omics panels, situated relationally, are, nec-
essarily, placed in relation to space and operate on a share of space (21), the
distribution of which he sums up under spatio-topia, a term created by
gathering, while maintaining distinct, the concept of space (espace) and that
of place (lieu) (Groensteen 21). Groensteen holds the view that said spatio-
topia is what centrally governs both the artists and the readers operations,
in that it is not the story that will create or dictate, relative to its develop-
ment, the number, the dimension, and the disposition of panels, but rather
the spatio-topical apparatus comics has developed, which he calls the sys-
tem of comics (Groensteen 21). To him,
[t]he taking into account of the form and the preconception of the mode of
spatial organization that will be adopted are [...] the preliminary conditions to
every beginning, and the constraints that never cease to inform each phase of
creation [Groensteen 21].
If one assumes the spatio-topia to be the basic condition of the comic

book page, several conclusions follow. Most importantly, in the form of mise-
en-page or page layout, the artist has at his or her disposal a tool unlike any-
thing found in the cinema. The page layout, the very use of space itself, can
carry meaning, not just the individual panel in relation to its siblings.
Johann Schmidt only hints at one of the numerous possibilities the spa-
tio-topia harbors for storytelling on the comics page: Anders als im Film wird
ein Verhltnis von Gleichzeitigkeit vorausgesetzt, das erst vom Rezipienten
produktiv in das Nacheinander einer Geschichte aufgelst werden kann (25).
Comics writers and artists such as Alan Moore use this condition of spatial
simultaneity quite frequently in their work; one might even say that Moores
Watchmen, A Small Killing or From Hell depend centrally on the comic pages
unique capability to represent past, present and future as entirely simultane-
ous, united on the forever-unchanging space of the page.
To give an example: in their collaborative work A Small Killing, Moore
and artist Oscar Zarate seem to propagate a comic book perspective on the
formation of identity by these very same spatial means. Practically every page
of the graphic novel foregrounds its own spatiality and short-circuits the
linear progression of narration in some way or the other. Flashbacks and
contemporary events occupy the same space (and diegetic place, most often)
and form chains of causal connections, thus furthering the theme of the pres-
ence of the protagonist Timothys past in whatever he does in the present,
and often simultaneously creating the agonizing impression of an eternal
present that is just as static as the comic book page on which it is repre-
sented. In the nal chapter of A Small Killing, Timothys recovery of agency
and of control over a meaningful construction of identity is then explicitly
associated with his becoming aware of the structures of simultaneity the
comic book has hitherto presented us with by foregrounding the spatial prop-
erties of the page.
BRINGING THE SPATIO-TOPIA TO THE MOVIE SCREEN:

THREE EXAMPLES
In the following three brief analyses I will present examples of how lm
directors have engaged with the spatio-topia of the comic book page, and
the notion of simultaneity in particular. My rst demonstration will be based
on Italian director Mario Bavas 1968 Danger: Diabolik, a much-overlooked
metactional treatise of the Italian tradition of serialized fumetti from a
lmmaker who is often unjustly frowned upon by academia. To my mind,
until the recent new wave of American comic book adaptations, no director
ever quite matched the standards Bava set with Danger: Diabolik as far as inter-
medial negotiations between comics and the silver screen are concerned. I will
subsequently venture a look at Zack Snyders adaptation of Frank Miller and
Lynn Varleys graphic novel 300, a lm that has been much scrutinized from
an ideological point of view but that has received hardly any commentary as
to its engagement with the comic book medium (except for supercial remarks
as to Snyders faithful rendering of whole swaths of pages from the comic book,
of course). Finally, I will examine Ang Lees 2003 adaptation of Marvel
Comics The Hulk, and demonstrate how Lee transports precisely those prop-
erties of the spatio-topia to the screen that comics creators like Alan Moore
use to achieve the impression of the presence of the past.
Mario Bavas Danger: Diabolik (1968)

Bavas Danger: Diabolik unlike Ang Lees The Hulk or the work of Alan
Moore is entirely unconcerned with notions of the past. In fact, like much
of the lmography of the Italian director of B and C genre pictures, Diabo-
liks disinterest for any notion of realism or relevance to the everyday world
of its viewers could hardly be any more pronounced. For the greater part of
his career, Bava instead proved himself an early postmodernist, recklessly
plundering the archives of popular culture and reveling in camp, irony and
articiality. His interest in Diabolik, a modestly budgeted adaptation of the
Italian comics serial of the same name, is rooted in the same attitude. The
character of Diabolik, an immoral thief who recklessly steals from the rich
for his own hedonistic ends and who is also quite eager to constantly ridicule
and subvert the establishment, could easily have been used to explore leftist
politics; but Bava does no such thing. Instead, he seems fascinated by the char-
acters atness, by the amused suspicion that the most characteristic trait of
Diabolik might be his physicality the way he moves and rolls his eyes melo-
dramatically. In short, four years before Umberto Ecos famous 1972 essay on
the static character of superhero stories (The Superman Myth), Bava and
his team of writers had realized that the very appeal of the popular comics
serial lay in its constant return to a forever-unchanging status quo.
Bavas discovery or interpretation of the Diabolik comic books as a static,
entirely ctional construction is clearly mirrored in the lms structure :
eschewing a classical three-act model, the lm instead presents itself as a series
of very loosely connected, seemingly arbitrary episodes that do not even pre-
tend to be working toward a common climax. Instead, each vignette deals
with some kind of robbery perpetrated by Diabolik, who then proceeds to
skillfully evade the governments moronic attempts at apprehension, only to
reap the fruits of his wicked labors in his stylish pop art lair.
Even when Diabolik is nally caught at the end of the lm, Bava nds
a highly tting visual metaphor to encapsulate the whole of his approach to
the character in one image that clearly foregrounds the shots spatiality: Dia-
bolik, clad in a protective suit, is caught in a stream of liqueed gold. As the
metal settles down and solidies, we nd Diabolik in a suspended pose, frozen
in place by the very object of desire that is at the root of the characters sta-
sis. This is not simply a reproduction of any particular comic book panel,
and neither is the shot intended to merely emulate a hypothetical comic book
page. Bava makes this abundantly clear by having the camera slowly push in
on Diabolik, ending on a close-up of the character, who proceeds to wink at
the camera. The lm thus signals that the circular structures it had hitherto
hinged on will be reproduced ad innitum. Importantly, the gist of this
moment is transported by cinematic means camera and character move-
ment and by cinematic means only. We might say that Bava spatializes the
shot here not to simply imitate the medium he is negotiating with, that is,
comics, but also to demonstrate the constitutive difference between the two
media that can be located in the representation of time. In other words, the
slow movement of the camera and the actors subtle gesture are the cinemas
means of commenting on Diabolik, the comic book: the frozen moments of
the comics panels become, from Bavas point of view, the very metaphor for
the serials eternal return to the status quo, and genre cinema winks at the
serialized comic book in amused recognition of their similar-but-different
nature.
This is not the only instance where Bava recognizably aims at the spa-
tialization of the movie screen. In fact, Danger: Diabolik abounds with shots
that make use of frames-within-the-frame in order to fragment and fore-
ground the space of the screen. This is a common enough cinematic tech-
nique that is used, by European directors especially, to a great variety of ends.
At times, Bavas adoption of additional frames in the lm is indeed rather
conventional, if not even clichd. But for the most part, the use of up to ten
(!) additional frames that partition a given shot is clearly meant to draw atten-
tion to the screens spatiality and imitate the paneling of a comic book page.
Bava only ever employs this kind of framing method in scenes with multiple
characters, and he skillfully commands the mise-en-scne to place his actors
fairly precisely within the space of these faux-panels. When his actors move
about the room, they will always take up a position that will reframe them
in a new panel. Bava refrains from having the dialogue spoken in what would
be the conventional reading order on a comic book page, though. He only
aims to reproduce the experience of reading a comic book page as, to again
quote Groensteen, a synthetic global vision, a space representing numerous
simultaneous actions that the viewer can roam at will. Again, Bavas negoti-
ations with the comic mediums formal properties end up as a demonstration
of difference: the very fact that each scene has a particular duration, that the
characters move about the diegetic space and that the viewers synthetic global
vision is actually not in total control of the reading process proves that the
comic books spatio-topia can only be partly reproduced on the space of the
movie screen.
Zack Snyders Adaptation of Frank Millers 300 (2007)

Zack Snyders engagement with the spatio-topia of Frank Miller and
Lynn Varleys graphic novel 300 partially takes an approach similar to Mario
Bavas. However, Snyder does not have to come up with any metactional
commentary on the medium he is working from since his source material is
in itself already a heavily intermedial image-text a fact that becomes imme-
diately clear when considering the book version of 300 as a material object.
For his highly stylized interpretation of the Battle of the Thermopylae, Miller
has chosen a format of 12.9 9.9 inches, much wider than the usual Amer-
ican comic book measurements of 10 6.1 inches. The book therefore fore-
grounds the spatiality of the page already by the choice of an unusual format.
If one subsequently examines the actual page layouts or mise-en-page, the sus-
picion that Millers intent is to allude to and imitate the spatiality of the ne
arts is further substantiated. Most pages present vast panoramas, emphasiz-

ing the representation of space and objects/bodies in spatial relation to each
other over temporal sequence. Individual actions driving the plot are mostly
relegated to a number of much smaller panels that are often purely functional
or diagrammatic in nature in short, narration is an afterthought in 300.
Instead, Miller seems intent on stressing the ctitious nature of the prop-
aganda story of the 300 Spartans defending Greece at the Hot Gates. 300 self-
reexively marks the narrative as yet another artistic and therefore explicitly
articial variation on a tale that has been tackled by countless artists before
an intention that makes itself clear already in the choice of a narrative frame.
The story of the 300 Spartans is told by a military leader aiming to rouse his
troops to battle; by way of focalizing the events through an unreliable narra-
tor, all the events at the Thermopylae are relegated to the status of rhetorical
artice serving the ends of propaganda. Millers artistic choices t the rhetor-
ical thrust: his panoramas of battles and well-exercised male bodies harken back
to artistic models of the past as well as to actual ancient Greek representations
of history equally steeped in ideology, and equally unreliable.
Snyder chooses to faithfully reproduce many of the pivotal scenes of the
graphic novel down to the most minute detail: the moment in which the
Spartans witness part of the Persian eet being crushed in a storm, for exam-
ple, or the end of the rst day of defending the Thermopylae, when the Spar-
tans drive part of Xerxes forces off a cliff. Most of these moments are taken
from sequences of the graphic novel that stress spatiality, thus aiming for a
painterly effect and eschewing the temporal progression of narration for, at
best, the representation of numerous events and actions taking place simul-
taneously (e.g., the Spartans watching the Persian eet being partially
destroyed while on the ships soldiers are being crushed by toppling masts or
hurled into the sea). In emulating Millers faux-canvasses, Snyder points out
the essential difference between the two media in much the same way Bava
did, that is, he adds the factor of movement and duration to the panoramas,
albeit in slow motion which can be regarded as a uniquely cinematic means
of calling attention to the shots spatiality. In this sense, almost forty years
after Bavas negotiations with the formal properties of the comics medium,
Snyder seems to have little to add to the ongoing experiment of adapting
comics spatio-topia for the movie screen.
300 is much more interesting in its interpretation of the comic book
reading process for the cinema. Snyder and his crew shot several of the movies
big action sequences with three cameras of different focal lengths, all simul-
taneously running lm from approximately the same position.* One camera
*Cf. Snyders audio commentary on the DVD version of 300 for a thorough discussion of this particu-
lar cinematic technique.
would thus record a long shot of the action, a second camera a medium shot,
and a third camera a tight medium shot. Via sophisticated computer-gener-
ated zooms, it was then possible to seamlessly connect all three shots as though
they had been caught by a single, impossibly agile camera. In other words,
Snyder and his crew of technicians have found a means by way of which the
technical apparatus of the cinema can imitate the way the human eye roams
the space of the comic book page: taking everything in synthetically or cumu-
latively at rst, but then to quote Groensteen for a third and nal time
travers[ing], cross[ing], glanc[ing] at, and decipher[ing] (19). Again, this
imaginative and visually exciting negotiation with the comics medium can
only serve to point out another fundamental difference between the media:
what Snyder offers us is the simulation of the spatio-topian freedom of the
reader, not the thing itself. In fact, it might be argued that the thrill of these
sequences is generated precisely by their coercing the spectator into a specic
rollercoaster-like way of witnessing the action, not by granting the audience
the freedom to roam at leisure.
Ang Lees The Hulk (2003)

Zack Snyder may claim the honor of having perfected the cinematic sim-
ulation of the spatio-topia by way of computer-generated zooms, but the lm
that actually came up with the technique was Ang Lees The Hulk (2003).
For a big-budget blockbuster production, Lees lm is an immensely exper-
imental endeavor. Apart from the above-mentioned zooms, the director and
his collaborators make use of complex digital dissolves, multiple exposures
uniting a number of different shots in one frame, three-dimensional cubes
onto which the cinematographic image is pasted digitally, and time and time
again extensive passages of split-screen. In other words, from this evidence
alone one can draw the conclusion that the lmmakers are intent on spatial-
izing the screen in imitation of the spatio-topia or mise-en-page of the comic
book. Lee says so explicitly on the DVDs audio commentary:
So the scientists [in the lm scene Lee is commenting on] experiment with
a frog and we experiment on the cutting. This is a very interesting cinematic
language to explore, because you not only line up in time the pictures [sic],
you design spaces and you choreograph different images [my emphasis].
Most of these techniques are put to thematic use, furthering the over-
the-top notion of psychology that the lm has adopted. Lee employs the
split-screen technique, for example, to convey emotions by the synthetic
impression of the simulated spatio-topia. Entirely abstract images of biolog-
ical structures, textures and patterns combined with images of actual narra-
tive content thus come to express feelings such as anger or rage as well as the
violent repression of memory. Again, this can be likened to the way comics
artists make use of mise-en-page to transport the emotional content of the
story. Comics creator Steve Lieber describes the process in the following way
in an interview:
Ill look at the panel and if the moment isnt angry enough, my approach in
drawing will switch to try to make it angrier. At a certain point, it becomes a
lot like music, where a purely abstract arrangement of marks is communicating
one emotion or another [Lieber].
For the most part, though, Lees use of the split-screen is connected to
the idea of subverting the usual temporal order of narration in the cinemato-
graphic medium. This particular fascination with the spatio-topia may take
the form of a mere dynamic compression of time and action: in one particu-
lar instance of simulated mise-en-page, for example, Lee shows a helicopter
ying over the desert in one split-screen, while the very same helicopter can
already be seen landing in the desert in another frame. Present and future are
both present in this particular arrangement, united in the simultaneity of the
spatio-topia. Time is effectively spatialized to the point where all actions shown
in the different split-screens become part of an all-encompassing present.
Most importantly, though, the split-screen and various complex digital
dissolves are used to develop the theme of the presence of the past in Bruce
Banners life. In making repression the central concern of their lm, Ang Lee
and writing partner Gareb Schamuss adaptation of the Marvel serial is just
as hugely Freudian as it is shamelessly operatic: as in the comic books, the
Hulk is interpreted as a Mr. Hyde gure, the very embodiment of sublima-
tion. Unlike the comic book version, though, the lm is much more specic
as to which traumatic events are actually being repressed by Bruce Banner.
The young scientist does not simply have anger management issues; rather,
he has had to witness as a child the murder of his mother at the hands of his
own father. The central conict of the lm can therefore be interpreted as a
sort of bizarre reversal of the dipal confrontation: in the end, Bruce Banner
will kill his father for his various transgressions against the natural order,
of which the killing of his wife is only a small part. Before this generational
conict can be openly waged, though, Banner has to go on a sort of thera-
peutic odyssey, during which he will become aware of the presence of the past
in his life a traumatic personal history of which the Hulk is but the phys-
ical manifestation.
It is this repressed past (which nevertheless greatly informs and devas-
tates Banners present) that Lee chooses to represent by way of a number of
simulated spatio-topias. In the scene working toward Banners rst transfor-
mation into the Hulk, for example, Lee spatializes the screen in such a way
as to show his protagonist surrounded by symbols of his troubled past: com-
puter screens show data from Banners blood samples, which attest to the
experiments his father has conducted on him. Flashbacks are superimposed
on close-ups of Bruce in which we are presented with fragmentary bits and
pieces of repressed memories for example, Banners father taking a blood
sample of his son or the explosion Banner senior provokes when his research
project is cancelled by the authorities. Later shots show the fathers cleaning
gear* in the hall of Bruce Banners laboratory as further proof of the very real
presence of the protagonists personal history, not just in a gurative sense.
Past and present are thus again united on the space of the screen and shown
as simultaneous to each other the past even has the power to cause Ban-
ners transformation in the present.
The conict is partly resolved and agency is regained for Banner when
in a gurative sense he learns to recognize the presence of the past and starts
to interpret the spatio-topia, much like Timothy, the protagonist of Alan
Moores A Small Killing, does. The moment of partial spatio-topian epiphany
arrives when Banner returns to the house in which the murder of his mother
took place. Production designer Rick Heinrichs fashions the bungalow as
though it were a gigantic, three-dimensional comic book to be roamed at
will: the structure seems to consist of nothing but frames or panels, all of
which culminate in a highly symbolic empty panel, the door behind which
Banners mother was murdered. As Banner starts to read the space/place
a process indicated by Lee by an unusual number of point-of-view shots
memory returns, and Bruce becomes aware of his repressed past. Signicantly,
this turning point in the lm is connected to the notions of space and place
except that now, the space to be read and interpreted is discernible for the
protagonist as well, not just for the audience.
CONCLUSIONS
In the course of this essay, I hope to have demonstrated that the comics
medium also functions as a nexus of cultures on a formal level: the thor-
ough intermedial negotiations that the lm industry has entered into with
comics in recent years have greatly helped to enrich the cinematic language.
Film directors and their collaborators have learned to integrate the possibil-
ities of mise-en-page and the spatio-topia into their cinematic adaptations
not just as merely ornamental accessories, but as incentives to reconsider the
advantages that foregrounding the movie screens very own spatiality might
yield. The formal experiments of lms like 300 or The Hulk can be regarded
as the avant-garde products of this new, serious interest in comics as a medium,
*Banners father has inltrated his sons research facility in the disguise of a caretaker.
not just as a supplier of character and story materials, as was most often the
case in the past. Further developments in this new dialogue between the two
media should yield fertile grounds for academic study.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Awater, Holger. Perception of Visual Space at the Time of Saccadic Eye Movements. Diss. Ruhr-
Universitt Bochum, 2002.
Bordwell, David. Convention, Construction and Cinematic Vision. Post-Theory. Recon-
structing Film Studies, edited by David Bordwell and Noel Carroll. Madison: University
of Wisconsin Press, 1996, 87107.
_____. Narration in the Fiction Film. London: Routledge, 1985.
Breithaupt, Fritz. Das Indiz. Lessings und Goethes Laokoon-Texte und die Narrativitt der
Bilder. sthetik des Comic, edited by Michael Hein, Michael Hners and Torsen
Michaelsen. Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 2002, 3750.
Eco, Umberto. Der Mythos von Superman. Apokalyptiker und Integrierte, by Umberto Eco.
Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1992, 187222.
Eisner, Will. Comics and Sequential Art. Expanded Edition. Tamarac, FL: Poorhouse Press,
2005.
Fellini, Federico, and Milo Manara. Trip to Tulum. From a Script for a Film Idea. Catalonia:
Catalan Communications, 1990.
Gombrich, E.H. Art and Illusion. Third Edition. London: Phaidon, 1968.
Groensteen, Thierry. The System of Comics. Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2007.
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim. Laokoon oder ber die Grenzen der Malerei und Poesie. Mit
beilugen Erluterungen verschiedener Punkte der alten Kunstgeschichte, edited by Julius
Petersen and Waldemar von Olshausen. Stuttgart: Reclam, 1964.
Lieber, Steve. Interview with Steve Lieber. G-wie-gorilla.de. http://www.g-wie-gorilla.de/
content/view/835/5/ (7 July 2007).
Lloyd, David. Interview with David Lloyd. G-wie-gorilla.de. http://www.g-wie-gorilla.de/
content/view/321/18/ (5 July 2007).
_____. Kickback. Milwaukie: Dark Horse, 2007.
Miller, Frank, and Lynn Varley. 300. Milwaukie: Dark Horse, 2006.
Mitchell, W.J.T. Iconolog y. Image, Text, Ideolog y. Chicago and London: University of Chicago
Press, 1986.
Moore, Alan, and Oscar Zarate. A Small Killing. Urbana, IL: Avatar Press, 2004 [1991].
Peeters, Benot. Le visage et la ligne: zigzags tpfferiens. Tpffer. Linvention de la bande
dessine, edited by Benot Peeters and Thierry Groensteen. Paris: Hermann, 1994, 164.
Rajewsky, Irina. Intermedialitt. Tbingen and Basel: A. Francke, 2002.
Schmidt, Johann N. Schwierige Verwandtschaften. Schnitt.de. http://www.schnitt.de/211,
1015,01 (7 July 2007).
Tpffer, Rodolphe. Rexions propos dun programme. Tpffer. Linvention de la bande
dessine, edited by Benot Peeters and Thierry Groensteen. Paris: Hermann, 1994, 14460.
FILMOGRAPHY
300. Dir. Zack Snyder. Gerard Butler, Lena Headey, Dominic West. Warner Bros, 2007.
Danger: Diabolik. Dir. Mario Bava. John Phillip Law, Marisa Mell, Michel Piccoli. Dino de
Laurentiis Cinematograca, 1968.
The Hulk. Dir. Ang Lee. Eric Bana, Jennifer Connelly, Nick Nolte. Universal, 2004.
2
The Marvel Universe on Screen:
A New Wave of Superhero Movies?
Andreas Rauscher
The Silver Age of American comic books began in the 1950s with the
rst publications of DC Comics, later well known for iconographic super-
heroes such as Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, and Batman (who was,
in regard to his childhood trauma and the darker and more ambivalent mood
of the early comic books, almost a predecessor of the Marvel heroes). But it
was not until the Marvel heroes of the 1960s that the superhero genre came
of age and turned toward more down-to-earth characters who offered a vari-
ety of identication patterns. The Fantastic Four, who were launched as Mar-
vels answer to DCs Justice League in November 1961, were not able to return
to their former civil identities after they gained superpowers in a cosmic storm.
In contrast to Superman, who willingly accepted his job as a never-resting
boy-scout, the Marvel heroes considered their supernatural skills to be both
a blessing and a curse. The mutants of the heroic X-Men team are met with
fear and prejudice by the public, and their only hideaway is a school estab-
lished as a decoy for the secret mutant headquarters by Professor Charles X.
Xavier. Even Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, whose catchphrase, with great
power comes great responsibility, reminiscent of the classic men in tights,
complains repeatedly that his superhero job as your friendly neighborhood
Spider-Man is ruining his private life.
The innovative writing of authors such as Stan Lee and Chris Clare-
mont, and drawings by artists like Stan Kirby, Steve Ditko and John Romita
introduced ambivalent heroes who had to cope with a difcult private life and
a society prejudiced against them. In contrast to the shining (and in the long
run supercial) larger-than-life role models from the heyday of early super-
hero comics, the Marvel protagonists were outcasts. The green colossus Hulk
21
continued the tradition of the misunderstood monster made popular by clas-

sical Universal horror lms such as James Whales Frankenstein (USA 1931/
1934). The X-Men reected the struggles between integrationists and sepa-
ratists within the civil rights movement of the 1960s. Spider-Man had to deal
with teenage angst situations and a troublesome love life. He also had to
accept underpaid occasional jobs in order to get through college and cope
with being the target of denunciatory tabloid press campaigns.
The adventures of the Marvel characters play against the backdrop of
the greater New York area. Instead of being located in ctitious cities like the
clean, retro-futuristic Metropolis or the expressionistic boiling-pot Gotham,
the Marvel comic books dealt with issues of everyday life in the Big Apple
and included numerous references to pop culture phenomenon from music
and fashion to lm and television. In 2002, Stan Lee explained in his auto-
biography, Ive always tried to make our characters as realistic as possible,
given the fact that they were living in a world of fantasy. In fact, I tried to
inject reality into that world itself (137). In present-day issues of the X-Men
series, the mutant Kitty Pryde criticizes the anti-feminist backlash caused by
shallow celebrities such as Paris Hilton. Similarly, in The Amazing Spider-
Man, which has turned into one of the most successful ongoing Hollywood
franchises, the hype surrounding superhero blockbusters is parodied by a
campy ctitious lm series starring the Incredible Lobster Man.
In contrast to the self-contained episodes and circular narrative struc-
ture of traditional superhero comic books, Marvel used intertextual links
between the different series and established a continuity that allowed for a
new level of character development and constant conicts. This strategy was
subsequently picked up by rival publishing house DC, and prepared the
ground for inuential graphic novels of the 1980s with artists such as Frank
Miller (Daredevil, The Dark Knight Returns, Sin City) writing so-called runs,
which focused on an elaborated story arc and were shaped by the individual
style of the author. Today the links between cinema and comic books offer
a variety of intersections and numerous forms of productive exchange. Screen-
writer J. Michael Straczynski, who is well-known for creating the ambitious
TV series Babylon 5 (USA 19941998), has been writing Spider-Man for sev-
eral years. Veteran independent director and actor Kevin Smith (Clerks, USA
1994; Chasing Amy, USA 1997) has not only included references to comics
throughout his oeuvre, but he also contributed runs to Daredevil and Green
Arrow that offer the same sophisticated and ironic approach toward pop cul-
ture that appears in his lms. Joss Whedon, creator and producer of innova-
tive TV series like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firey, wrote a miniseries for
X-Men that, in turn, provided several central plot elements for Brett Ratners
lm X-Men The Last Stand (USA 2006). With several ongoing lm fran-
2. The Marvel Universe on Screen (Rauscher) 23
chises based on comic books, and screenwriters participating in the develop-

ment of superhero comics, the ties between the two media seem to be stronger
than ever.
Nevertheless, it took almost 30 years before the approaches introduced
by Marvel to the comic book world found their way to the big screen.
Although TV feature series based upon Spider-Man and The Hulk had already
been quite popular in the 1970s, and some trashy low-budget lms featuring
Captain America and The Fantastic Four were produced in the early 1990s, a
process of continuing stylistic differentiation only became possible because of
the success of Bryan Singers X-Men and Sam Raimis Spider-Man.
The new wave of comic book adaptations of the last ten years has been
dependent on two key factors that do not appear in former major produc-
tions based upon super hero comics. The rst factor was the introduction of
digital effects in the 1990s that enabled feature lm visuals to come closer to
comic book art than matte paintings and model effect shots ever could. In
his study The Language of New Media (2001), media theorist Lev Manovich
observed:
If digital compositing and digital painting can be thought of as an extension of
cell animation techniques (since composited images are stacked in depth parallel
to each other, as cells on an animation stand), the newer method of computer-
based postproduction makes lmmaking a subset of animation. In this method,
the live-action photographic stills and/or graphic elements are positioned in a 3-
D virtual space, thus giving the director the ability to move the virtual camera
freely through this space, dollying and panning [305].
The dynamic direction of photography found in the Spider-Man lms
(USA 2002/04/07), directed and co-written by Sam Raimi, relies on a com-
bination of sequences shot on location, digital animation and virtual back-
grounds. In the rst lm, Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) and the Green Goblin
(Willem Dafoe) ght each other in front of a digitally altered Times Square
that was put together from shots recorded on a sound stage, CGI-graphics
and footage from the real location. The second lm opens with a visually stun-
ning chase across the rooftops of Manhattan again combining real footage
with a CGI-animated Spider-Man. Finally, Spider-Man 3 features a ght in
the New York subway that appears to have more in common with the digital
ow of action-adventure video games than with the real thing. The virtual
camera pans and tracks around as if it were on a real location. In this mode
of production the two-dimensional drawings of comic panels and traditional
matte paintings have turned into three-dimensional sets comparable to the
digital architecture of the navigable worlds presented in comic/lmbased
video games such as Ultimate Spider-Man (2005) or Marvel: Ultimate Alliance
(2006).
The second factor that has contributed signicantly to the success of

comic book adaptations is the inuence of the individual styles of ambitious
directors. This inuence is missing in most Hollywood mainstream fare but
is prominent in recent comic book adaptations like Spider-Man, X-Men (USA
2000/03/06), Hellboy (USA 2004) and Hulk (USA 2003). As noted above, a
closer look at the Spider-Man lm series indicates that Manovichs thesis ts
certain sequences featuring spectacular ghts and dynamic web-slinging
through New York. Sam Raimi, however, a passionate fan of the Marvel comic
books, also integrated two other trademark elements from the comics that do
not rely on heavy use of CGI, but on the actors and an elaborate mise-en-
scne: There are interludes presenting precisely timed situation comedy deal-
ing with the troublesome everyday life. Raimi also establishes several
melodramatic subplots developing over the course of three lms that focus
on the complicated love triangle between Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire), his
long-time love, Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst), and his former best friend
turned enemy, Harry Osborne ( James Franco).
The most convincing mainstream comic book adaptations of recent years
avoid the repetitive formulas typical for Hollywood franchises. The serial nar-
rative is an essential aspect of the comic books and the lms consequently do
not make any attempts to continue an already nished story. They do how-
ever include open ends for future narratives. In the case of Tim Burton, Bryan
Singer, Sam Raimi, Guillermo Del Toro, and Ang Lee these open-ended fea-
tures may even be considered to be stylistically coherent entries into the direc-
tors oeuvre. The lmography of the versatile director, Raimi, includes the
horror slapstick trilogy The Evil Dead (USA 1981 1993), the comic book
homage Darkman (USA 1990), as well as serious drama such as A Simple Plan
(USA 1998). But, instead of strictly separating his more underground-orien-
tated work from his mainstream dramas, Raimi has integrated stylistic devices
and motives from all these efforts into the Spider-Man series.
Even though the third Spider-Man lm (released in 2007) did not live
up to most expectations, its predecessor from 2004 demonstrates Raimis sub-
tle play of visual effects and the absurdity of everyday life in an exemplary
way. The opening sequence, in which Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) does not
manage to successfully deliver a box of pizzas even though he switches to his
Spider-Man outt in order to get through the rush hour in Manhattan,
employs CGI effects to create a traditional slapstick narrative. Other comi-
cal scenes serve as a stylistic counterbalance to the elaborated ght sequences.
When Peter Parker ruins his white shirts by absent-mindedly washing his Spi-
der-Man costume with his ordinary laundry, and in the scenes in which Peter
Parker is merely a nerdy student, the lm does not employ any visual effects
at all. In contrast to the rapid editing and ever-changing camera angles used
in contemporary Hollywood action lms, Raimi even leaves the camera for
several minutes in one position to highlight a bizarre encounter between Spi-
der-Man and a passer-by who has no idea that he is confronted with the real
superhero but thinks that someone has put a lot of effort in creating a fan-
made Spidey outt.
The prolic dialectic between blockbuster CGI extravaganza and per-
sonal directorial vision is a result of the changes brought about by the suc-
cess of the Marvel lms. Comic book adaptations in the mainstream as well
as in the independent sector are no longer only directed by reliable realisa-
teurs, such as Brett Ratner or Rob Bowman, but by passionate auteurs who
try to nd a synthesis between their individual style and the trademarks estab-
lished by the comic books. Comparable to the comic book runs authored
by individual artists within the xed mythology of a continuing series, the
directors contribute their own interpretations to an ongoing franchise. Richard
Donners and Richard Lesters Superman lms from the late 1970s and early
1980s proved that superhero adaptations could be true to the comic book as
well as be attractive to a larger commercial audience. But it was Tim Burtons
dark and psychologically complex character study of Bruce Wayne in Batman
(USA 1989) and Batman Returns (USA 1992), which portray the Dark Knight
as almost similar to the nemesis he created himself, that allowed the director
to keep his artistic integrity even while delivering a high-budget event movie.
The rst two Batman lms were inspired by the work of Frank Miller and
Alan Moore, who presented a more adult-orientated and ambivalent version
of the (anti-)hero. It is due to their efforts that changes initiated by mature
graphic novels in the 1980s made their way to the screen, and it took only a
few more years before Hollywood nally began to avoid the shallow specta-
cle of lack-luster, unintentionally funny, badly staged and badly scripted
releases like Judge Dredd (GB 1995) and Spawn (USA 1997).
Although they were similar in their stylistic coherence, there is still one
important difference remaining between most of the Marvel lms and Tim
Burtons noncamp reimagination of Batman. Burtons lms were conceived
as self-contained entries to a franchise that drastically changed its tone when
Joel Schumacher took over the directors chair for the third and fourth install-
ment. The Marvel lms, even if they went from auteur to realisateur as in the
case of X-Men 3, rely in the sequels on the continuation of plot arcs estab-
lished in earlier lms. This concept helps to avoid the mistakes of former adap-
tations that tried to put all characteristic plot points into one single lm
instead of paying tribute to the wide variety of characters and stories devel-
oped over the course of several decades in the comic books. Even though
mainstream superheroes are only allowed a certain amount of character devel-
opment, many Marvel series at least tried to suggest the passing of time. Spi-
der-Mans high school love, Gwen Stacy, dies in the early 1970s, so trauma-
tizing the hero for many years. Peter Parker turns from a nave high school
student into a socially conscious part-time teacher in his former neighbor-
hood. In the crossover event Civil War (2006/2007), he is caught between
rivaling groups of Marvel protagonists. In the struggle over a registration act
concerning superheroes he chooses to reveal his secret identity. This too leads
to changes that will affect the series for many years.
Stephen Norringtons vampire action adventure Blade (USA 1998)
marked the beginning of Marvels cinematic new wave, but this cycle of ambi-
tious comic book adaptations was only noticed by most critics and the gen-
eral audience after the artistic and commercial success of Bryan Singers X-Men
in the summer of 2000. It became one of the rst lms based on a comic book
series that not only left the door open for further installments like Richard
Donners Superman had done, but it also explicitly developed the set-up for
a future conict by hinting at a mutant registration act that would be dealt
with in the sequels. A darker and more serious tone differentiates X-Men from
most superhero adaptations of the late 1990s. The lms are based on the pop-
ular 1970s version of the team, when the more conventional (and rmly Amer-
ican) mutants of the 1960s were replaced by a more international team of
heroes. Fan favorite and declared loner Wolverine, a Canadian with adaman-
tium claws and skilled in various martial arts, joined forces with the African
weather goddess Storm, the German demon-like Nightcrawler, and the Rus-
sian hero Colossus.
The rst sequences of X-Men are characteristic for the lms versatile
and serious approach. Singers direction consequently avoids cartoonish ingre-
dients. The absence of over-the-top elements is even ironically commented
on within a scene in which Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) teases the other
X-Men about their black leather suits and is asked in return by Cyclops ( James
Marsden) if he would rather prefer yellow spandex. According to the origi-
nal comic books such a yellow spandex outt would have been Wolverines
dress of choice. But Singer and his art department stay away consciously from
bright colors and tights. In this, they continue the trend initiated by the Mar-
vel comic books to create a more believable and realistic style within the lim-
its of the super hero genre. In retrospect, Singer explained to lm journalist
James Mottram: Since Richard Donner did the rst Superman, weve seen
that comic book adaptations can be taken seriously. And weve seen with a
lot of good science ction and fantasy that, when its taken seriously, we can
learn a lot about ourselves (Mottram 308).
Instead of restricting the plot to the emotional journey of one charac-
ter, X-Men features an ensemble of protagonists establishing a diversity of pos-
sible metaphorical readings. Wolverine continues the long tradition of classical
rebel heroes in popular culture, not unlike many of the roles played by Clint
Eastwood, a character type which is attractive for an older part of the audi-
ence. The insecurity of puberty, which is experienced by the younger X-Men
Rogue (Anna Paquin), Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), and Pyro (Aaron Stanford),
corresponds on the other hand to the standards of teenage coming-of-age
dramas. The topic of being an outsider and threatened by (in some cases even
lethal) bigotry is introduced on a personal as well as on a political and more
historical level. The rst X-Men lm opens with young Magneto helplessly
witnessing the murder of his parents in a Nazi concentration camp. This ash-
back gives insight into the motivation behind the later mutant separatist Mag-
neto (played by Ian McKellen) and provides a differentiated explanation of
his militant position that transcends the rather one-dimensional frontline
drawn between good and evil in traditional superhero stories. The experience
of discovering mutant powers is explored in the following introduction of
teenage girl Rogue. During a romantic moment with her boyfriend, she learns
that she drains energy from everyone she touches. Teenage angst is articu-
lated in this scene in terms of otherness caused by supernatural incidents. Sim-
ilar motives can be found in Carrie (1976), based on a novel by Stephen King,
or in slasher series like A Nightmare on Elm Street (USA since 1984). In con-
trast to the visceral horror cinema of the 1970s and 1980s, the X-Men stories
are told from the outsiders point of view and favor a coming to terms with
otherness instead of adjusting to prevalent conventions. Those who try to
restore the status quo and ignore that society itself demands a change toward
more tolerance, are portrayed as narrow-minded populists like Senator Kelly
(Bruce Davidson) in the rst lm or as hateful fanatics like Colonel Stryker
(Brian Cox) in the second lm.
The political story framework of X-Men 2 is introduced in two sequences
during the hearing of a Senate Committee in Washington. In the rst sequence,
scientist Jean Grey (Famke Janssen) is seen attempting to convince the attend-
ing politicians that the restriction of personal freedom imposed by the mutant
registration act could result in a dangerous conict. The public does not know
that she is a mutant herself and works as a researcher at Professor Xaviers
school. The erce response she gets from Senator Kelly evokes associations of
Senator McCarthys House Committee on Un-American Activities. This
sequence indicates how easily history could be repeating itself. The second
sequence is a meeting between former friends Magneto and Charles Xavier
after the hearing that develops the political references by echoing the differ-
ences between Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Xavier, cast with Patrick
Stewart, who created Captain Picard as the iconographic personication of
Star Treks humanist message, demands a better understanding between
mutants and men in order to nd a peaceful solution. In contrast to him the
embittered Magneto promotes militant separatism and violence as self-

defense. Xavier and the X-Men decide to help mankind even if they are not
accepted by the majority of them. Magneto and his Brotherhood of Mutants
ght human supremacy without considering the results of their actions on
neutral parties.
The allegorical elements of the lm are further strengthened by the cast.
Hugh Jackman, Halle Berry, Ian McKellen (who has drawn parallels between
his own position as a gay activist and the mutant metaphor on several occa-
sions), Patrick Stewart, and Famke Janssen avoid any of the cartoonish over-
acting, a characterization that is often wrongly associated with comic book
adaptations in general. Instead of a continuous presentation of set pieces the
X-Men lms rely on the precisely timed interplay between action sequences,
staged by experienced martial arts choreographers such as Hong Kong direc-
tor Corey Yuen, and memorable character-driven scenes like the imprisoned
Magneto playing chess against Xavier while discussing the threat of a war
between mutants and humans. In one of the lms key scenes, Magneto looks
at the Statue of Liberty, the setting of the showdown between the Brother-
hood and the X-Men, and articulates his disappointment: America was to
be the land of tolerance, peace. Scenes like this indicate that the differences
between ctional cities like Supermans Metropolis and the New York of the
Marvel comics is not only motivated by references to real-life locations and
pop-cultural phenomena, but also from a political perspective. Bryan Singer
described X-Men as a comic book version of Arthur Millers The Crucible.*
One of the central recurring themes of the comic series is the confronta-
tion with bigotry and prejudices, especially in the stories written by the
renowned author Chris Claremont. Originally related to the political back-
lash of the Reagan era, Claremonts graphic novel God Loves, Man Kills still
provided the appropriate background story for Singers second X-Men lm
in 2003. X-Men 2 elaborates on the political content of the rst lm. Bryan
Singer explained that he wanted to integrate certain subtext within a main-
stream cinema format: Theres a lot of subversive things happening in X2
[...]. Some of them are not so under the surface. You have socio-political
issues happening, you have analogies to coming out (Mottram 311). Polit-
ical and private conicts overlap in many cases. The state of emergency
brought about by Colonel Strykers intrigues affects many of the X-Men on
a personal level. The openly gay Singer directed a scene in which Rogues
boyfriend Iceman confesses to his parents that he is a mutant. As Singer indi-
cated in the interview quoted above, this confession is comparable to a com-
*Interview with Bryan Singer included on the X-Men DVD Special Edition. Twentieth Century Fox,
2003.
ing-out. In contrast to the easy solutions offered by conventional blockbuster

cinema his relatives do not show any kind of understanding. Iceman and his
companions, Wolverine, Pyro and Rogue, have to escape from suburbia when
his little brother calls the police. The law enforcers, who do not recognize the
situation at all, suppose that Icemans family has been taken hostage by the
mutants. These misunderstandings are the result of a campaign orchestrated
by Colonel Stryker and his forces, who intentionally made up allegations of
a connection between an assassination attempt on the president and mutant
activism. The opinionated media coverage dealing with the case is presented
as television soundbytes that appear in the background in several scenes. With
this, Singer not only comments on the one-sidedness of news reports, but also
successfully employs a stylistic device also seen in many graphic novels like
Frank Millers The Dark Knight Returns.
The message of tolerance and not trusting rst impressions is again artic-
ulated with the introduction of a new character. Teleporting mutant Night-
crawler is assumed to be a radical assassin. After the X-Men discover that he
has been manipulated, he turns out to be a German circus artist from Munich
who looks like a blue-skinned devil but is deeply pious. His personal faith
offers an alternative to the bigotry of the Moral Majority represented by
Stryker and his henchmen. The process of moving beyond a deceiving outer
appearance captures the attitude of the comic book series accurately.
Some plot details from Chris Claremonts God Loves, Man Kills have
been updated to suit the political situation of today. The televangelist Stryker
from the graphic novel is turned into a fanatical Colonel who stages an assas-
sination attempt on the President of the United States in order to stir up the
conict between men and mutants. He also knows about Wolverines myste-
rious past as part of a secret military project. Scenes of the implantation of
the adamantium skeleton that are only alluded to in short ashback sequences
in the rst lm are developed in more detail in X2. Subsequently, Wolverine
realizes that Stryker and his troops regard him as a monstrous by-product of
their research for creating efcient human weapons.
The function of the X-Men crew as a substitute family that gives the
social outsiders dignity and provides them with a sense of unity develops into
one of the central themes of the second and the third lm. This includes a
short-time reconsideration of certain uneasy ties within the mutant commu-
nity. The state of emergency results in a temporary alliance between Mag-
neto and the X-Men and blurs, at least for a short time, the dividing line
between good and evil before they go separate ways again after the showdown.
The conict between the Brotherhood and the X-Men comes to a head in X-
Men 3The Last Stand, which is directed by Brett Ratner (Rush Hour, Red
Dragon) in a solid way that does not quite live up to Singers more innova-
tive mise-en-scne. A new serum, euphemistically called the cure, permits

reversion of the mutant gene. The political subtext of the rst two lms
becomes more explicit, but at the same time discoursive aspects are reduced
in favor of impressive action sequences.
Although both X-Men 3 and Spider-Man 3 are quite superior to the
average blockbuster fare produced by Hollywood studios, they are represen-
tative of a more commercial approach recently taken by the studios. The stu-
dios became more averse to risks when the rather art-house adaptation Hulk
(USA 2003) by the internationally acclaimed director Ang Lee did not turn
out to be as successful as Universal Pictures expected. Hulk included exper-
imental features such as split-screen compositions emulating panels from a
page within a comic book. The sometimes rapid change between different
points of view from one panel to the next is imitated by unusual camera angles
and abrupt editing. Ang Lee followed the tradition of psychologically com-
plex Marvel characters and stayed true to his own fascination with difcult
family structures. He added a traumatic conict with a highly problematic
father (Nick Nolte) to the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hydeinspired story of scientist
Bruce Banner (Eric Bana), who after an accident in a laboratory turned into
the monstrous green giant Hulk. Noltes mad scientist father, who used his
own son as a guinea pig in his experiments, is mirrored by the authoritarian
General Ross (Sam Elliott). The father of Bruces long-time love interest,
Betty ( Jennifer Connelly), tries to keep his daughter away from the tragic hero.
Supported by the government, Bettys father declares open season on the Hulk
and hunts Banner and his alter ego in much the same way FBI agents from
the 1960s cult TV series The Fugitive pursued the innocent Dr. Kimble.
Although Hulk features state-of-the-art special effects, Ang Lee takes his time
to include a radically reduced and intense confrontation between Bruce Ban-
ner and his estranged father. The focus on the actors reminds more of a stage
drama than a blockbuster with a budget of over a hundred million dollars.
Ang Lees Hulk, with its challenging visual concept and its psychologi-
cally detailed character development, even took the risk of not introducing
the monster until 40 minutes into the lm. All this in combination with Lees
explicit critique of narrow-minded military demonstrate the creative poten-
tial of the Marvel adaptations. More commercially orientated efforts such as
The Punisher (USA 2004) and The Fantastic Four (USA 2005/2007) never-
theless indicate that the studios are only willing to take moderate risks to
ensure that the productions continue to be at least moderately successful at
the box ofce. Renewed departures from conventional standards of comic
book adaptation are only tolerated if the lm in question still promises to be
accepted by a larger audience. Where Ang Lee could indulge an openly exper-
imental approach, the ambitious ideas of other directors involved with Mar-
vel adaptations now rather tend to manifest themselves in the subtext or as

Bryan Singer puts it: I feel whenever theres unrest in the world, it does
breed creative revolution of sorts [...]. If on the surface merely to give some-
one distraction from the day to day terror of the news, on the inside it gives
artists the chance to express their own point of view (qtd. in Mottram XXVI).
The X-Men lms developed the subversive political potential of the Marvel
adaptations in the same way the Spider-Man lms demonstrated visual cre-
ativity in combining superhero adventures with serious drama and an ironic
depiction of everyday life.
Even if lms like Hulk 2 (USA 2008), produced by a newly founded
Marvel lm production company, should return to a more conventional form
than their precursors by Singer, Raimi, and Lee, the new wave of serious
comic book adaptations initiated by X-Men and Spider-Man seems to have
had a lasting effect on the genre. Studios are willing to accept more director-
inuenced comic book adaptations such as Christopher Nolans Batman Begins
(USA 2005/2008) or Sin City (USA 2005) by Robert Rodriguez and Frank
Miller. In contrast to the mediocre output of ten years ago, producers are now
ready to nance a new variety of comic book adaptations from the modern-
ized, family-orientated high camp of Tim Storys Fantastic Four to politically
committed graphic novels like V for Vendetta (USA/GB 2006) and sophisti-
cated indie adaptation Hellboy. The involvement of the comic book artists in
the lm adaptations has increased to the point that they are no longer restricted
to short cameo roles in the lms but actively participate as executive produc-
ers. So, for example, Stan Lee acts as executive producer in almost every Mar-
vel adaptation, Mike Mignola as creative consultant for the Hellboy lms. A
few artists like Frank Miller (Sin City, The Spirit, USA 2008), Enki Bilal
(Tykho Moon, France 1996, Immortal, France 2005) and Dave McKean (Mir-
ror Mask, GB 2005) have even become directors themselves. The technolog-
ical advances in the eld of computer-generated imagery herald an increasing
convergence between designing graphic art and creating cinematic scenarios
for the big screen.
In the same way in which Marvel changed the mainstream of American
superhero comics 40 years ago by merging serial storytelling with the creative
handwriting of individual artists, the Marvel productions initiated a more
complex and differentiated approach toward comic book adaptations for the
big screen. In their best moments they correspond to the demands of a box-
ofce hit and to the criteria of a personal, director-driven lm at the same
time. That this does not always work is shown by lms like Rob Bowmans
Elektra (USA 2005), which brightly illuminated all the dark corners that pro-
vided Frank Millers comic book with the characteristic shades of noir, or by
Mark Steven Johnsons Ghost Rider (USA 2007), which left unnished some
promising ideas of a Faustian pact between a motorcross driver and the devil
and favored cheap visual effects instead. Yet, even in these worst cases, the
results are at least an indicator for the new diversity in comic book adapta-
tions.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Howe, Sean (ed.). Give Our Regards to the Atomsmashers. New York: Pantheon, 2004.
Lee, Stan, and George Mair. Excelsior The Amazing Life of Stan Lee. New York: Fireside,
2002.
Manovich, Lev. The Language of New Media. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001.
Mottram, James. The Sundance Kids How the Mavericks Took Back Hollywood. London:
Faber & Faber, 2006.
Wein, Len (ed.). The Unauthorized X-Men SF and Comic Writers on Mutants, Prejudice and
Adamantium. Dallas: Benbella, 2006.
3
From Trauma Victim to Terrorist:
Redening Superheroes
in Post9/11 Hollywood
Dan A. Hassler-Forest
Remember Pearl Harbor (dir. Joseph Stanley, 1942) was the rst feature
lm to offer a ctionalized depiction of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and it
appeared within a year of this day of infamy. Although the crowds may not
have rushed to see this low-budget B-movie, cinema screens were soon awash
with propaganda lms meant to encourage American audiences to support
the war effort. At this time in history, American popular culture was univer-
sally aligned to a single cause, which was reected not just in feature lms
and cartoons, but also in comic books, which never wavered in their sup-
port for the war effort (Wright 54). World War II marked that rare conver-
gence of interests between publishers, creators, readers, and government
policy (Wright 54) that would not only provide that burgeoning medium
with many of its most enduring characters, but that would help to dene the
ways in which comic books would develop an ongoing relationship with polit-
ical and social conicts in the following decades.
But Hollywood has proved much more reluctant to ctionalize the events
of 9/11 in commercial feature lms. Unlike the American comic book indus-
try, which was quick to publish issues in which superheroes like Spider-Man
and Captain America make appearances at Ground Zero and subsequently
play a role in the Bush administrations War on Terror, none of the major
Hollywood lm studios released a lm about the attacks until 2006.* Even
*Before 2006, the only Hollywood film to make specific reference to the 9/11 attacks was 25th Hour
(dir. Spike Lee, 2002), which incorporated footage of Ground Zero as part of a backdrop to a story
that although it can easily be read as a metaphoric treatise on guilt, responsibility and punishment
does not deal directly with the events of 9/11. Other films such as 091101 (continued on page 34)
33
then, the premieres of United 93 (dir. Paul Greengrass, 2006) and World Trade
Center (dir. Oliver Stone, 2006) were surrounded by controversy. The ensu-
ing public debate centered on the question whether it was appropriate for a c-
tionalized lm to recreate events that had caused such an intense national
trauma. The common perception is that any Hollywood lm, which is an inher-
ently commercial product, would trivialize the experience by turning it into
a commercial commodity, or as Adorno would claim: making it too accessi-
ble by turning it into yet another saleable commodity (qtd. after Storey 51).
Although one might raise the obvious Frankfurt School objections to
commodifying authentic experience, it is more likely that the American lm
industry has been hesitant to address the events of 9/11 head-on. Psychoana-
lytic lm theory, and more specically trauma theory, offers a viable expla-
nation for the fact that popular cinema has only made cloaked references to
these events until very recently. As dened by trauma theorist Cathy Caruth,
the term trauma should be understood as a mental wound that is experi-
enced too soon, too unexpectedly to be fully known and is therefore not avail-
able to consciousness until it imposes itself again, repeatedly, in the nightmare
and repetitive actions of the survivor (Caruth 3/4). Therefore, by watching
lms that offer an indirect representation of the 9/11 attacks, it becomes pos-
sible for viewers to give meaning to events that were too sudden and trau-
matic to be understood as they occurred.
In this chapter, I will demonstrate how two recent Hollywood lms fea-
turing superhero narratives, both of which were adapted from highly inuen-
tial and well-known graphic novels, can be read rst and foremost as texts
that engage directly with debates surrounding the American national trauma
of 9/11. To varying degrees, both lms actually encourage a reading that runs
counter to the current American administrations policies, and which has been
dubbed subversive and even irresponsible by the American press. By compar-
ing and contrasting the lms Batman Begins (dir. Christopher Nolan, 2005)
and V for Vendetta (dir. James McTeigue, 2006) with each other as well as
with the graphic novels upon which they were based, I aim to illustrate how
both lms refer explicitly to cultural discourse post9/11, and how they
encourage viewers to relate the moral choices presented in these narratives to
real-life contemporary social and political discourse. Both lms feature pro-
tagonists who are portrayed from within the superhero tradition, and both
address the problem of redening the relevance of superheroes in a post9/11
environment. I will argue rstly that these lms present a new kind of super-
hero narrative that is a direct adaptation of the revisionary graphic novels
September 11 (dir. Youssef Chahine et al., 2002) were aimed exclusively at (predominantly European)
arthouse cinema audiences, and had no impact on American popular culture.
3. From Trauma Victim to Terrorist (Hassler-Forest) 35
that appeared in the late 1980s, presenting a break with previous superhero
lms. Secondly, by pointing out key differences between the lms and the
graphic novels on which they were based, I will demonstrate how the lms
refer explicitly to 9/11, and can therefore be identied as trauma narratives.
And thirdly, by providing a close analysis of key sequences in both lms, I
will show how the lms engage in a political debate on the nature and causes
of terrorism.
THE REVISIONARY SUPERHERO NARRATIVE
Batman Begins and V for Vendetta were based on graphic novels that were
published in the late 1980s, when comic books came of age in a bid for cul-
tural and literary legitimacy. Controversy surrounds both lms relationship
to their source material: while V for Vendetta was clearly based on the col-
lected comic book series that was published as a single-volume graphic novel
in 1989, author Alan Moore had his name removed from the credits, stating
that in his opinion the story had been turned into a Bush-era parable by peo-
ple too timid to set a political satire in their own country (Moore 2006).
The plot of Batman Begins on the other hand is not drawn from any single
work, but the lm features a large number of similarities with characters,
props and events from Frank Millers graphic novels Batman: The Dark Knight
Returns and Batman: Year One. Although Frank Miller has no screen credit
in the lm, Batman Begins clearly us[es] his work without invoking his name
(Newman 21).
Geoff Klock has described those works as revisionary superhero nar-
ratives.* The key texts identied by Klock as revisionary superhero narratives
are both Batman books by Frank Miller, as well as Alan Moores and Dave
Gibbons Watchmen and his collaboration with artist Brian Bolland, Batman:
The Killing Joke. Klock convincingly argues that these works constitute a
movement (in which we could easily include V for Vendetta as well, since it
appeared in the same period and has a similarly deconstructionist approach
to superhero narratives) that marks the point at which comic books make the
transition from mere popular culture artifacts to literature. Central to his
theory is the idea that these authors successfully deconstructed the superhero
narrative in multi-layered texts that problematize the extensive narrative his-
tory that has come to dene the American comic book tradition.
Batman Begins and V for Vendetta, both highly successful blockbuster
*Klocks work is based largely on Harold Blooms literary theory on the poetic tradition as driven by the
anxiety of influence.
action lms produced and distributed by a major Hollywood studio, achieve

a similar effect for the gure of the superhero in cinema. As Klock writes,
central to understanding the revisionary superhero narrative is the re-imag-
ining of origins (50), which is at the very core of both these lms: Batman
Begins as its very title suggests deals entirely with the creation of a new
origin story that connects the characters childhood trauma to the ensuing dan-
ger of recruitment by a terrorist organization, while V for Vendetta goes even
further in its depiction of a superhero character as an advocate of terrorism
as a legitimate means toward political change. Since the superhero movie
franchise became a powerful commercial force in the Hollywood blockbuster
marketplace following the release of Superman (dir. Richard Donner, 1978),
superhero movies have followed the example of mainstream comic books by
including a political dimension, usually supporting whatever hegemonic dis-
course (most often conservative) the decade at hand had to offer (Klock 39).
I will argue that Batman Begins and V for Vendetta distinguish themselves
from more traditional mainstream superhero lm franchises like Spider-Man,
X-Men and Blade by including an ideological slant that runs counter to the
direction of U.S. policy in the 2000s.
BATMAN BEGINSTHE OTHERING OF AN AMERICAN HERO
In the previous four Batman lms, which appeared between 1989 and
1997, Batman was portrayed as a gure that fought crime in league with the
police force as a masked vigilante, his dual identity the direct result of the
trauma suffered by the murder of his parents. The rst and third lms in the
cycle, Batman (dir. Tim Burton, 1989) and Batman Forever (dir. Joel Schu-
macher, 1995), included ashbacks to this trauma and the heros resultant dual
nature. But Batmans motivations and his commitment to justice were never
questioned, neither by himself nor by others. His status is raised in these lms
from violent, proto-fascist vigilante to unquestioned agent of morality by
means of the Bat-Signal, the beacon used by the police whenever the super-
heros aid is required. Rather than the brooding psychopath of the revision-
ary graphic novels The Dark Knight Returns and Year One, Batman was
portrayed as the square-jawed law-enforcer of earlier comics, and in Batman
& Robin ( Joel Schumacher, 1997) even as a character resembling the camp,
pop-art gure of the classic 1960s TV series (Sabin 87). These lms, like
almost every other superhero movie to emerge from Hollywood in the past
25 years, certainly beneted from the fact that the revisionary work of Moore
and Miller brought with it a renewed public interest in superhero narratives.
But their narratives without exception fall within the realm of the Sil-
ver Age in the history of American comics that presented straightforward,

nonironic superhero narratives.
Batman Begins digs much more deeply into the issues of childhood trauma
and morality, rstly by making it clear how thin the line is that separates Bat-
mans vigilantism from the ideology of a terrorist organization. The rst part
of the lm consists of ashbacks to Bruce Waynes childhood trauma, followed
by a sequence about his self-imposed exile in an unidentied mountainous region
in Asia. While there, seeking an outlet for his trauma-induced grief by beat-
ing up fellow inmates in a Chinese prison, Wayne is approached by Henri
Ducard, who entices him to join a secret society called the League of Shad-
ows. Ducard has little trouble convincing Wayne to join his organization:
BRUCE WAYNE: What makes you think I need a path?

HENRI DUCARD: A vigilante is just a man lost in the scramble for his own
gratication. He can be destroyed, or locked up; but if you make yourself
more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they cant stop
you, you become something else entirely.
Once he joins the League, Wayne is trained in martial arts and various other
ghting techniques. This makes him an effective unit in a terrorist organiza-
tion bent on maintaining order in the world by punishing societies it deems
overly decadent and/or corrupt. What makes this training sequence remark-
able and what sets it apart from other superhero lm narratives is the fact that
a clear process of othering takes place. As Edward Said argued in his sem-
inal work Orientalism, the West has tended to identify itself as separate from
the East by using simplistic dichotomies (e.g., scientic vs. religious thought,
rational vs. irrational thinking) that justify viewing entire populations as inher-
ently other from a Western us. This kind of thinking has allowed for reduc-
tive statements about the nature of terrorism that cast perpetrators of the 9/11
attacks as an irrational Other bent on destroying the West (Norlund 3).
This reinvention of Batman as a character who learned his skills in the
Far East also presents a rst strong departure from Millers graphic novels:
Batman: Year One includes panels that show Bruce Wayne in training to
become Batman, all of which takes place on the grounds of Wayne Manor.
This is signicant for the fact that as much as Millers graphic novel repre-
sents a revisionary approach to the characters roots, Batman/Bruce Wayne
remains rmly anchored within Gotham City (and therefore within the
United States), as are the threats from which he must defend the city. Year
One begins with Waynes return from abroad (a 12-year absence is specied,
but his activities during this period are not), while the lm Batman Begins
frames the characters beginning from a very specic foreign context.
The League of Shadows headquarters, where Wayne undergoes his com-
bat training in Batman Begins, are set in a temple in a remote Asian moun-
tain range, recalling the headquarters of terrorist organization Cobra in GI
Joe comics, which are described as designed architecturally to resemble a
temple hidden in a Himalaya-like region (Norlund 8). Like Cobras leader,
the head of the League of Shadows, Ras Al Ghul, is also a terrorist person-
ality [portrayed] as a disingenuous religious leader, suggest[ing] that no ter-
rorist or religious leader is authentically devout (Norlund 8). This connection
between terrorism and Eastern mystical religion is made explicit in the lm
by the Leagues headquarters resemblance to a temple. It is further solidied
by the presence of signiers such as Buddha gurines on prominent display
in the rst interior shot. Bruce Wayne is successfully recruited, trained and
indoctrinated by the League of Shadows, but later rejects the organization
when he is assigned the task of executing a criminal as a required rite of pas-
sage. Wayne decides to reject the Leagues absolutist ideology, dening a sub-
tle but crucial difference between revenge and justice, terror and fear. He
immediately thereafter makes his separation complete by blowing up the tem-
ple where he has undergone the training that will later make him a super-
hero.
Waynes rejection of the League of Shadows and its ideology becomes
even more evident when he exchanges his Eastern ninja garb for high-tech
American military armor, which he re-appropriates and transforms into his
superhero costume. Thus, by portraying Bruce Wayne as someone whose
childhood trauma has made him vulnerable to recruitment and indoctrina-
tion by a foreign and therefore Other terrorist organization, this revision-
ary superhero narrative and its re-imagining of Batmans origins breaks
explicitly with Batmans established tradition of facing a different and inde-
pendent villain each issue, since a variety of them reside in Gotham City
(Norlund 2). This break with tradition, relocating the main threat from inside
Gotham to a sectarian rebel militia in the Far East, is the rst element that
connects Batman Begins with 9/11 discourse, a connection that is further devel-
oped in the narrative once Ras Al Ghuls scheme becomes clear.
Later on in the narrative, when Batman has established his role as a vig-
ilante who ghts criminals by using their own fear as a weapon against them,
Bruce Wayne is again confronted by his former mentor, Henri Ducard, who
reveals himself as the true Ras Al Ghul, and reiterates his plan to destroy
Gotham City:
RAS AL GHUL: Gothams time has come. Like Constantinople or Rome before it
the city has become a breeding ground for suffering and injustice. It is
beyond saving and must be allowed to die. This is the most important func-
tion of the League of Shadows. It is one weve performed for centuries.
Gotham [...] must be destroyed.
The Leagues plot to destroy Gotham City, Batmans ctitious city of resi-
dence since 1941 that for all intents and purposes is still New York, and more
specically Manhattan (Brooker 48), ultimately involves an attack that is to
culminate in the destruction of Wayne Tower, Gothams skyline-dening sky-
scraper and the symbolic and infrastructural heart of the city. The similarity
to recent real-world events could hardly be more obvious. As Kim Newman
has described it in his article Cape Fear, Gotham City is attacked by a
fanatic eastern sect with a charismatic but impossible-to-catch gurehead
which is bent on crashing a mode of transport into a skyscraper to trigger an
explosion of panic that will destroy society (21). Again, this climactic attack
represents a departure from both primary sources, neither of which includes
any reference to a skyscraper as a target singled out for destruction by the vil-
lain.
Rather than offering a literal allegory that restages the events of 9/11 to
which Batman Begins refers, the lm casts its hero as the citys (partial) sav-
ior. In a fevered frenzy of wish fulllment, the attack is averted at the last
possible moment by Batman, who succeeds in stopping the train with the help
of future police commissioner Gordon, once again reinforcing Batmans align-
ment with the police force. But unlike previous Batman lms and most other
superhero movies, Batmans victory over the villain is not complete: part of
the city has fallen victim to the terrorist attack, and crime is still rampant
throughout the city. Wayne Manor has been burnt to the ground, and the
last shot we see of Bruce Wayne (without his Batman costume) is of him and
butler Alfred walking through the smoking ruins.
In the lms nal scene, Batman meets Gordon on a rooftop, and their
exchange emphasizes the ambiguous mixture of hope and loss that summa-
rizes the lms narrative:
BATMAN: We can bring Gotham back.
GORDON: What about escalation?
BATMAN: Escalation?
GORDON: We start carrying semi-automatics, they buy automatics. We start
wearing Kevlar, they buy armor-piercing rounds.
BATMAN: And?
GORDON: And youre wearing a mask and jumping off rooftops.
Instead of the usual signature shot of the superheros silhouette atop a sky-
scraper, watching over the citys well-being like a gargoyle, Batman Begins
ends with one of the lms key villains, Scarecrow, on the loose, and with the
introduction of Batmans best-known nemesis, The Joker, as the next case for
the Dark Knight to pursue. This lack of formal closure can be read to reect
the current situation of American post9/11 trauma, which the lm addresses
without offering a resolution. Rather than engaging in the usual reduction-
ist answers prevalent in American popular culture and political speeches about
how terrorists simply hate freedom and democracy, they irrationally want
to kill Americans (Norlund 4), Batman Begins actually presents an ideolog-
ical debate with Waynes mentor that establishes the difference between fear,
employed by Batman, and the Leagues world of terror that sets them apart
from each other (Newman 21).
V FOR VENDETTATHE TERRORIST SUPERHERO

Many of the same issues recur in V for Vendetta, in which one trauma
victim teaches another a terrorist ideology, but this lm offers an entirely dif-
ferent kind of resolution. In the lm, which was based on the graphic novel
by writer Alan Moore and artist David Lloyd, masked superhero gure V
introduces himself to Evey, the lms other main character and the primary
focus for audience identication. The introduction is made through an act of
terrorism: he proudly orchestrates the blowing up of a public building in
London. As the lm progresses, Evey is educated by V, ultimately leading to
her embracing his view that terrorist acts can be a legitimate form of protest:
V: The building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given
power by people. Alone, a symbol is meaningless, but with enough people,
blowing up a building can change the world.
Throughout the lm, the media are portrayed as government-controlled

propaganda tools that help maintain control over the population through fear.
Every act of resistance to the regime is reported as a terrorist act against a
government that purports to keep the population safe from perpetual danger
by maintaining a regime of fear that includes measures like an evening cur-
few and a quarantine zone that apparently makes all areas outside the city off-
limits for regular citizens. This creates a binary opposition in which the
government is established as unambiguously evil (a rst departure from the
far more complex graphic novel), and Vs resistance to this government as
therefore implicitly good. Evey, who initially does not question the status quo
and who holds a job at the government-owned TV station, is abducted and
imprisoned by V after saving his life. During her imprisonment, she grows
increasingly intimate with V, who becomes a father gure to her who will
instruct her, whose life she will save, and who will ultimately give his own
life for his cause. Like Bruce Wayne, who is also surrounded by a superuity
of Fathers in Batman Begins, Evey is indoctrinated by this hyperstitional
mentor-guru to change her perception of the world around her and to
undergo a form of conditioning that will allow her to follow in this mentors
footsteps (Fisher 3). Both lms therefore offer as their primary targets for
audience identication characters that are dened by the authorities within

the lm as terrorists, thereby redening this highly demonized term from a
more nuanced perspective.
Another similarity between the two is the presence of a sympathetic
police detective investigating the case: James Gordon has been Batmans loyal
ally throughout most of the characters history within a police force that has
been portrayed as corrupt and incompetent. In Batman Begins, Gordon (Gary
Oldman) is specically presented as a lone man of integrity, unwilling to
accept bribes in a department fraught with corruption. Similarly, in V for
Vendetta, Finch (Stephen Rea) realizes that the police force he works for is
irredeemably corrupt, ultimately leading him to condone Eveys destruction
of the Houses of Parliament. Also like Wayne, Evey has another father gure
who functions as a maternal carer: Deitrich (Stephen Fry) mirrors V in the
way he is portrayed visually within the lm frame and in his caring for Evey
following a moment of crisis. Both men, in fact, serve her the same dish for
breakfast, framed in a sequence of near-identical shots, while Deitrich jok-
ingly identies himself as the masked V.
However, unlike Bruce Wayne, who rejects his mentor Ras Al Ghul as
a father gure and who embraces the unconditional love offered by maternal
father gure Alfred instead, Evey witnesses her maternal father gure Deitrich
falling victim to the regime in a way that directly mirrors the childhood trauma
of the loss of her parents. This is where the politics of V for Vendetta move
far beyond the moral middle ground of Batman Begins. For whereas Bruce
Wayne rebels against his conditioning, re-appropriating his training and cos-
tume in order to press Gothic Fear into the service of heroic Justice (Fisher
4), Evey comes to an entirely different conclusion: she moves from skepticism
to self-discovery and enlightenment thanks to the tutelage of father gure V,
clearly motivated in part by her witnessing of Deitrichs grisly fate. In a scene
that serves as a re-enactment of her memory of losing her mother, Evey wit-
nesses Deitrich being beaten, bound and hooded as she hides under the bed.
Eveys re-living of this severe childhood trauma is followed by her cap-
ture and torture, for which the government rst appears to be responsible,
but which later is revealed to be masterminded by V. During her solitary
connement, Evey receives a journal through a hole in the wall from another
prisoner who shares her experiences with her. Not until she is willing to die
rather than submit to her captors does V release her and teach her his nal
lesson. This experience, which is a re-enactment of Vs own trauma, has a
transformative effect on Evey, who now metaphorically becomes V: the new
embodiment of the idea he has stood for. Her transformation is visualized
when she walks onto the rooftop in the rain, her arms spread toward the sky.
The shots in the lm recreate the panels in the graphic novel, albeit with one
major difference: they are intercut with ashback shots of V as he emerges

through re out of his own prison, his arms similarly raised upwards. In the
book, no such connection is made within the panels. By creating these graphic
matches in the edit, underscored by the complementary backgrounds of re
and water, the viewer is made to understand that Evey has now become the
same as her captor, and can fulll her destiny by stepping into his shoes.
This notion of becoming the superhero/terrorist informs the lms cli-
max, which is not only the point where it veers off most dramatically from
Batman Begins, but also from the graphic novel upon which it was based. Sim-
ilarly to Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, Evey was traumatized at a young age
by the death of her parents, who were arrested and killed by the government.
She too requires the guidance of a father gure/mentor to transform her grief
and anger into a form of power that will allow her to become an agent of jus-
tice, or even a kind of superhero. She is rst introduced to her mentor in a
familiar superhero trope: when Evey is assaulted in a dark alley by a group
of nefarious hoodlums (identied here as government agents), the masked
and cloaked V, who is seemingly invincible, dispatches her attackers and leads
her to safety. He also invites her along as a spectator to his rst terrorist act
in the lm: he blows up Londons Old Bailey to Tchaikovskys 1812 Overture,
an act visualized in the lm as a spectacular and victimless reworks dis-
play. This act is in fact a conation of two separate scenes from the book, in
which V with Evey as his witness rst blows up the Houses of Parliament
and later targets the Old Bailey.
The graphic novel ends with the eruption of citywide anarchy, triggered
by Eveys appearance on a rooftop clad in the martyred Vs costume and mask.
During this outbreak of violence, the prime ministers residence is blown up
by the underground train carrying Vs corpse, but this is entirely unlike the
climactic explosion that destroys the Houses of Parliament at the end of the
lm. For while the lm depicts a peaceful conclusion in which a mob of spec-
tators, all clad in Vs Guy Fawkes mask and hat, march peacefully to witness
the spectacular explosion of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the blow-
ing up of Downing Street that ends the book is witnessed from afar by two
individuals, alone within the comic book frame, while the mob that marches
through the city is portrayed as violent and anarchic.
In the same way that the endings of the two lms differ, so does their
message veer from the nuanced revisionary framing of Batman as a former
terrorist who turns against his own organization to Eveys acceptance of an
ideology that condones terrorist acts as legitimate forms of protest against a
fascist government.
CONCLUSION
What I hope to have demonstrated in this chapter is how both lms
offer readings of American culture and politics post9/11 that run counter to
the war rhetoric that has fuelled most American popular discourse on the sub-
ject. The Bush administration rhetoric draws on the age-old dichotomy that
simplies differences between East and West in order to legitimize they hate
our freedom as the terrorists only motive. As a counterexample, the recent
lm World Trade Center (dir. Oliver Stone, 2006), which was the second Hol-
lywood lm to ctionalize 9/11, again reinforces the interpretation of the
attacks as an act of war by explicitly connecting them to the war in Iraq.
Apparently, it is up to superheroes like Batman and V, heroes of fantasy worlds,
to make clear to global audiences that this conict is more complicated than
the American administrations war rhetoric would have us believe, and that
in todays world, even they can no longer afford to indulge in absolute ideas
about right and wrong.
FILMOGRAPHY
Batman. Dir. Tim Burton. Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson. Warner Bros. Pictures, 1989.
Batman & Robin. Dir. Joel Schumacher. George Clooney, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Alicia Sil-
verstone. Warner Bros. Pictures, 1997.
Batman Begins. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Neeson. Warner
Bros. Pictures, 2005.
Batman Forever. Dir. Joel Schumacher. Val Kilmer, Jim Carrey, Nicole Kidman. Warner
Batman Returns. Dir. Tim Burton. Michael Keaton, Michelle Pfeiffer, Danny De Vito. Warner
Remember Pearl Harbor. Dir. Joseph Stanley. Don Barry, Alan Curtis. Republic Pictures,
1942.
Superman. Dir. Richard Donner. Christopher Reeve, Margot Kidder. Warner Bros. Pictures,
1978.
United 93. Dir. Paul Greengrass. J.J. Johnson, Polly Adams. Universal Pictures, 2006.
V for Vendetta. Dir. James McTeigue. Hugo Weaving, Natalie Portman. Silver Pictures, 2006.
World Trade Center. Dir. Oliver Stone. Nicolas Cage, Maria Bello. Paramount Pictures, 2006.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Fisher, Mark. Gothic Oedipus: Subjectivity and Capitalism in Christopher Nolans Bat-
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Klock, Geoff. How to Read Superhero Comics and Why. New York: Continuum, 2002.
Miller, Frank, and David Mazzucchelli. Batman: Year One. New York: DC Comics, 1987.
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060315 (7 July 2007).
_____ and David Gibbons. Watchmen. New York: DC Comics, 1987.
Moore, Alan, and David Lloyd. V for Vendetta. New York: Vertigo, 1989.
Newman, Kim. Cape Fear. Sight and Sound 15.7 (2005): 1921.
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Sabin, Roger. Adult Comics: An Introduction. London: Routledge, 1993.
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4
Picture This: Disease and
Autobiographic Narration
in the Graphic Novels of
David B and Julie Doucet
Jonas Engelmann
The contemporary independent comic scene has produced a veritable

wave of autobiographical comics and has thus created a new mainstream trend
in black and white. Two of the most successful comics of the past decade,
Persepolis (20002003) by Marjane Satrapi and Craig Thompsons Blankets
(20032005), were, like many other recent publications, primarily autobio-
graphic. A tradition of autobiographic comics can, of course, be traced back
to the American comic underground of the 1960s, Keiji Nakazawas Barefoot
Gen (19731975), and Will Eisners To the Heart of the Storm (1991).* The
current boom, however, invites a closer look at structural parallels between
these newly emerging works. Charles Hateld writes: Autobiography has
become a distinct, indeed crucial, genre in todays comic books despite the
troublesome fact that comics, with their hybrid, visual-verbal nature, pose an
immediate and obvious challenge to the idea of nonction (112). It appears
that the comic as a medium provokes an examination of the self. Thus the
following chapter will inquire into the cause of this phenomenon, as well as
into the aesthetic possibilities of the recent trend toward the autobiographi-
cal in comics.
A look at literary criticism in the eld of autobiography, like Philippe
Lejeunes seminal description of the autobiographical mode in Le pacte auto-
*Andreas Platthaus even identifies Frank Kings Gasoline Alley (1918 1959) as an important precur-
sor (cf. Platthaus 2016).
45
biographique (1975) shows that what Lejeune calls the autobiographical pact
cannot easily be transferred to comics. In his examination, Lejeune claims to
establish objective rules to dene the autobiographical but comics are not
discussed in his analysis, because they are not autobiographical (cf. Lejeune
14). Even if some aspects of Lejeunes theory (like the unity of author, nar-
rator, and protagonist) are important for the graphic novel, his all-too-nar-
row denition proves too schematic to serve as a proper basis for the analysis
of comics. Lejeunes analysis can also hardly be squared with the tendency of
many comics to consider the unreal and the world of dreams as of equal
importance as reality.
Where literary criticism has failed, comic studies themselves have devel-
oped a number of different approaches toward autobiography as a comics
genre. Jan Baetens locate this phenomenon within the more general context
of the cult of authenticity. He puts its popularity down to postmodernism,
to the often-described disappearance of the master narratives, which makes
the small narratives of the autobiographical subject gain greater importance
(cf. Baetens n.p.). In contrast to this, Andreas Platthaus argues that a graphic
novel claims no objectivity because, in its visual representation, reality is
always visibly transformed, and authenticity can thus hardly be pinpointed
in comics (cf. Platthaus 197). The central and notoriously controversial issue
therefore seems to be the question of authenticity. The potentially endless
discussion arising from this* can perhaps be avoided by a concentration on
questions of aesthetics deriving from the materiality of comics.
Georg Seelen considers comics a graphic medium whose intensity even
surpasses that of lms, since nothing apart from drawing instruments
resides between the subject and the world. The drawing is the (auto-)bio-
graphic as such: writing life on paper (Seelen 51). Hence comics are often
characterized by an extreme subjectivity that is combined with the possibil-
ity of reection through a combination of text and image. One result of this
tension is an ongoing fascination of artists with comics as a tool for the exam-
ination of the self. Bourdieus criticism of established concepts of identity,
especially his famous assumption that the attempt to describe life as a singu-
lar sequence of incidents is pointless (cf. Bourdieu 88), is thus transformed
by comics artists into comic-specic aesthetics based on self-reexivity.
In the following, two examples will show how artists working on simi-
lar themes can develop different graphic realizations. In their work, both
David B and Julie Doucet discuss the topic of epilepsy against an autobio-
graphical background and they develop aesthetic representations of the topic
that are vastly different but make perfect sense in their own particular con-
*For a discussion of the issue authenticity in autobiographical comics, see Hatfield 108 27.
4. Picture This (Engelmann) 47
text. The wide aesthetic spectrum that is visible in the work of these two
artists demonstrates the vast aesthetic possibilities of the graphic novel in the
autobiographical mode. We have to ask to which extent the aesthetics of the
examined comics are connected to the disease and if there is a conjunction
between the conguration of the single panels (the text body) and the bod-
ies of the protagonists, that is, if there is a relation between form and con-
tent.
It should be clear from this, that the following chapter does not intend
to nalize the discussion on autobiographical comics but rather aims at ask-
ing some specic questions that touch on comic aesthetics and thus might,
in turn, illuminate that eld in general. Where, for example, can we trace the
origin of the tendency in comics to consider the unreal, fantasy, and dreams
as equal in importance to reality? Can it be seen as a relic of or rather as a
link to the tradition of superhero comics? A comparison with lm, a medium
that also operates with pictures, shows the extent of the surreal in comics.
The chances of an autobiographical lm introducing a mammoth to enable
the protagonist to discuss inner conicts, as Frederik Peeters does in Pilules
bleues (Peeters 161ff ),* or place God at the dining table, as can be seen in
Satrapis Persepolis (Satrapi n.p.), are slim indeed. What would seem at least
rather curious in lms does not surprise much in comics. It is interesting that,
by introducing an element of the surreal, the objective reality of an auto-
biography is usually challenged in other media, yet in comics the opposite
seems to be the case.
DAVID B
David Bs LAscension du haut mal employs this surrealist method, the
integration of dream fragments into an alleged reality, in a more intensive way
than most other graphic novels. Pierre-Franois (David B) describes his
brothers epilepsy as a history of struggles: the struggle against the disease,
the struggle against the consequences of his parents shock after the diagno-
sis, and the struggle against his own exposure to Jean-Christophes epileptic
ts. At the same time, it is a story of alienation: The graphic novel, narrated
*Pilules bleues is also a very interesting comic in the context of disease and autobiography: it deals with
AIDS and how the knowledge about the disease overshadows the relationship between the HIV-positive
Cati and Fred. The graphic novel concentrates on the characters while the reduced drawings focus on
the questioning, troubled faces. The more liberated Fred and Cati feel, the less the reader gets distracted
from them; when their self-doubt is growing, the pictures get darker and darker and begin to swallow
up the two protagonists. The connection between the level of content and the image level remains a cau-
tious and intimate one. The disease is completely superimposed with fears and smattering. The blue
pills, life-prolonging medication on the one hand but connected with severe side effects on the other,
become a symbol that contains everything that characterizes the disease.
Pierre-Franois hardly recognizes his brother (David B: LAscension du haut mal.

1996 LAssociation).
in retrospect, starts in the present in the parental bathroom, where Pierre-

Franois is at rst not able to recognize his brother: Hes got abrasions all
over his body. His eyebrows are scarred. He doesnt have any hair at the back
of his head, because of the collapses. He is corpulent because of the medica-
tion and the lack of exercise. This experience is transferred to the reader,
who has probably obtained a rst impression of the siblings from the image
on the cover.* This prelude anticipates the general development of the tale:
The physical nonidentication and the unfamiliarity that accompanies the dis-
ease prevent Pierre-Franois from getting into contact with his brother; his
childhood companion becomes more and more of a stranger, with whom
as the bathroom scene shows communication is hardly possible.
This alienation from his brother is transferred by the narrator into a gen-
eral renunciation of reality, a phenomenon that becomes visible in the appear-
ance of the phantoms. In literary studies as well as in trauma research, the
image of the phantom marks the void that represents an incident that detracts
from a structural subsumption (cf. Weigel 65). The brothers disease as a non-
*The six volumes of the series accompany the growth of the two brothers. The cover of the first volume
portrays them as children and while Pierre-Franois can easily be recognized, his brother, Jean-
Christophe, has changed beyond recognition over the years in the way described in the first panel.
The brothers disease as a phantom (David B: LAscension du haut mal. 1996 LAs-
sociation).
comprehensible fact neither from the childs perspective, nor in retrospect

from the adults point of view can be read as an incident that detracts from
subsumption.
However, it would be a reduc-
tion to see the phantoms only as sym-
bols or metaphors for the disease :
They rather have to be read in a
metonymical way. All aspects con-
nected with the disease, on a personal
as well as on a social level, culminate
in the phantoms. Not only do the
brothers live through a process of
alienation, but also a similar progres-
sive marginalization takes place on a
social level: The uncontrollability of
the epileptic ts largely excludes them
from central domains of social life.
Jean-Christophes identity is reduced
to his disease; his body is fragmented
by medical examinations, a process
that is directly visualized by David B.
Foucault has thought along sim-
ilar lines when he dened the powers
Jean-Christophes fragmentation (David
that permeate, characterize, and con- B: LAscension du haut mal. 1996 LAs-
stitute the social body and at the same sociation).
time discipline it through that process: The human body was entering a
machinery of power that explores it, breaks it down, and rearranges it. A
political anatomy which was also a mechanics of power was being born
(Foucault, Discipline and Punish 138). The ineffective medical treatment Jean-
Christophe receives also functions as a disciplinary force and causes other
modes of regulation that nally result in his exclusion from society: He is even-
tually placed in a center for disabled people after he had to leave a Rudolf-
Steiner School because of his seizures.
In analogy to Foucaults depiction of the genealogy of social denitions
of madness in Madness and Civilization, one could trace the social view on
epilepsy back through the centuries, as one can see via the different versions
of its name. Epilepsy was considered a sacred disease in some cultures
because the persons concerned seemed to transform into a state of trance
easily and even involuntarily.* In ancient Greece this seizure was reckoned
a penetration by the power of the Gods and it attracted the attention of
Hippocrates, who became the rst researcher into epilepsy. In contrast to
the positive aura it carried in antiquity, it was seen as a Haut Mal or great
evil in the Middle Ages, a divine punishment or demonic possession that
had to be exorcized. This negative public perception and stigmatization
inuenced early modern medical research, which, in turn, created new prej-
udices. As most scientic research in this eld in the 19th and early 20th cen-
tury was conducted only psychiatrically, the public regarded epilepsy as a
mental illness well into the 20th century. This only changed in the 1960s
when new medical ndings unveiled epilepsy as a neurological cerebral dis-
ease.
One of the main concerns of David B is to show that these new ndings
however did not change much about the actual social exclusion of epileptics
and their families. He illustrates this for example by stressing the similar
mechanisms of social exclusion of foreigners and ill people, which derives
from hearsay, fear, and a lack of knowledge about the other. Some children
in the neighborhood warn the siblings about the Algerians: Be careful, Jean-
Christophe! They kill people with knifes. My father has been there, he told
me so (LAscension du haut mal 12). Finally the brothers are convinced that
an Algerian building worker has actually committed murder. A few pages
later, this situation is mirrored when the same children accuse Jean-Christophe
of having similar intentions because of his disease: He is dangerous. When
*This is reflected for example in the title of the German translation of David Bs graphic novel, which
is called Heilige Krankheit [Sacred Disease].
David B alludes to this with the title of his graphic novel but he combines the great evil of the dis-
ease with the Christian term ascension, which conjures up the image of sainthood and martyrdom.
For a more detailed history of epilepsy, see Owsei 1971 and Schneble 2003.
he goes bad, he wants to kill everyone! He keeps his hands as if he wanted to

strangle someone! He tries to grab our throats (LAscension du haut mal 34).
The underlying social conditions in this case the consequences of the Alger-
ian War but also the antipsychiatry movement and the trauma of two World
Wars become interlinked with the disease although they, on the surface,
seem to have nothing to do with epilepsy.
In this context, the use of the surreal in the case of LAscension du haut
mal the depiction of the phantoms serves a specic purpose. It supports the
theme of the graphic novel in two ways: on a personal as well as a social level.
If LAscension du haut mal is seen against the background of the complete oeu-
vre of David B, an ongoing reection on autobiographic elements in the use
of the surreal can be identied. In Le Cheval blme (1995), which contains a
visualization of David Bs nightmares, one of the phantoms of LAscension du
haut mal has its rst appearance: the ghost of the dead grandfather. Here, the
motif is clearly assigned to a dream world but later in David Bs work it
becomes part of the real autobiography.
This inclusion of already-established motifs in new work becomes cen-
tral when autobiographic key scenes of David Bs oeuvre are depicted, for
example Jean-Christophes rst epileptic t. Babel, drawn and published after
nishing LAscension du haut mal, contains an episode in which David B
returns to the place where the rst t took place (Babel 11). The scene is sim-
ilar to its rendering in LAscension du haut mal but in the latter case David
Bs mother is on the spot to absorb his confusion, whereas in Babel he is left
alone. The narration in LAscension du haut mal is thus marked as just one of
many possible variations, as just one special piece of memory. The two ver-
sions of the same scene consequently reect the limits and possibilities of
autobiography in general.
Epilepsy is the limit against which the narration in David Bs work con-
stantly struggles. The phantoms, however, do not cover the whole dimension
of the disease. It is simultaneously represented as a transgression, which gives
the graphic novel much of its tension. Jean-Christophes unattainability as a
person is contrasted with the unreal, childish imagination of epilepsy as a
monster that takes possession of his body. The suspension of the usual rules
of realism on the aesthetic level here serves the purpose of reecting the
difculties of understanding epilepsy on the content level. According to Man-
fred Weinberg, a phantom represents a complex structure of memory that
puts unconscious reenactment of trauma and conscious remembrance into an
indubitable context (185). A similar link is made by David Bs graphic novel:
It presents the experience of having a brother with a disease and ones own
ensuing social marginalization as a traumatic childhood experience that can-
not be approached in a direct way. Simultaneously, the act of trying to con-
Jean-Christophes rst epileptic t (David B: LAscension du haut mal. 1996 LAsso-

ciation).
sciously remember these experiences brings to light the voids in memory that
are often lled with phantoms.
JULIE DOUCET
The Canadian artist Julie Doucet visualized one year she spent in New
York as a comic diary in My New York Diary (2004), in which her subjective
perception of the city takes center stage. She obviously felt overawed by life
in the metropolis and this fact takes possession of every single panel. Walter
Benjamin characterized a similar experience at the beginning of the 20th cen-
tury in the continuous presence of letters in the form of advertisements in
the street, which necessitated a constant alteration of perception (Einbahn-
strae 103). The passer-by has to adapt his perception to the simultaneity of
conicting sensual impressions and has to correlate all these various inuences.
According to Benjamin, these multifaceted impressions have to be perceived
in an uncentered and distracted way, and this new kind of perception is intro-
duced as an antagonism to the paradigm of contemplative immersion, which
An overow of graphic detail (Julie Doucet: My New York Diary. 1999, 2004, Julie
Doucet).
characterizes the traditional concept of the artist. This modied perception

is compared with the impact of the then-new and visually challenging medium
of lm in Benjamins famous Kunstwerk essay (381).
Doucet depicts this change of perception in her personal situation of
shock and uses the overwhelming impressions as an aesthetic instrument. She
draws panels that are essentially unmanageable due to the immense number
of detail and thus leaves the reader little chance to read continuously, just as
the protagonist experiences no moment of peace and quiet. As the protago-
nist experiences New York as a confusing challenge, this impression is trans-
ferred to the reader as an aesthetic shock. The gap between text and image
and the incongruity between the time levels is kept as vast as possible. Aes-
thetically, Doucet paints and writes in the tradition of American underground
artists like Robert Crumb or Art Spiegelman, whose work is also character-
ized by the rejection of contemplative immersion in the artwork or the panel
(cf. Packard 214f ). Their aesthetic approach has its roots in the aggressive mod-
ernist challenge, which Walter Benjamin characterized in the description of
Dada art as a ballistic instrument that hits the spectator like a bullet (see Das
Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit 379).
In Doucets work this aggressive and offensive aesthetic has a correspon-
ding element on the content level. As in David Bs LAscension du haut mal,
epilepsy plays an important part in Doucets graphic novel even if the disease
is only mentioned in passing. Unlike David B, however, Doucet is epileptic
herself and transforms her disease into different pictures than David B. While
David B tries to approximate something alien to him, Doucet tries to render
Julies ts start to appear more and more regularly (Julie Doucet: My New York Diary.
1999, 2004, Julie Doucet).
her own feelings. The permanent situation of stress and excessive demands
of her surroundings are catalysts for the ts that start to appear more and more
regularly. As already described above in the discussion of LAscension du haut
mal, epilepsy is primarily inscribed into the body and not focused to the out-
side world. The violent consequences of the disease for the real body cannot
be communicated, and therefore they are transferred in the comic to a for-
mal level. As a consequence, the text body itself becomes the location of the
literary and visual memory. Similar to David B, the formal level of Doucets
graphic novel becomes a tool for the examination of the disease while it is
largely marginalized on the content level.
One of the aesthetic instruments Doucet uses to visualize the transfor-
mation of the text body are the claustrophobic drawings that leave little to
no free space and are very difcult to penetrate at a glance. The treatment of
the text adds to the impression of claustrophobia. The speech bubbles seem
to take up what little space is left, and seem to try to crush the protagonist.
When the reader concentrates on graphic details in the various panels, the
overall impression of aggressive intrusion is strengthened by the symbolic and
visual impact of the objects mapped: knives, scissors, broken bottles, and
waste. While ostensibly remaining on a realist level, Doucet lls each panel
with so much concentrated information that the limited space of the images
nearly bursts. The claustrophobic visual presentation connects various levels
of My New York Diary: the limitedness of the at the protagonist lives in, the
increasing problems with her boyfriend, the stress of living in a foreign city,
her drug usage, and nally physical weakness. Apart from frequent epileptic
Visual calmness is regained (Julie Doucet: My New York Diary. 1999, 2004, Julie
Doucet).
ts, the protagonist also has a miscarriage. A visual calmness appears only in
the last few panels, after she has decided to leave the city.
On the whole, the graphic novel is characterized by a sharp discrepancy
between image and text. Doucet lets the images tell a different story than the
one suggested in the dialogues. While she creates the illusion of normality in
the diary entries, the images are threatening from the beginning. This distin-
guishes My New York Diary in its drastic visuality from other works by Doucet.
Though her early work like Lve ta jambe mon poisson est mort (1993) seems
visually similar at rst glance, the protagonists quite literally receive more
space in it and the speech bubbles dont crush them. Later works, for exam-
ple, The Madame Paul Affair (2000), on the whole appear much tidier in the
true sense of the word. Hence I read My New York Diary as an effort to trans-
form the precarious living conditions Doucet experienced, and of which
epilepsy was an important part, into images. The tension between image and
text, which are partly in conict with each other, reects the autobiograph-
ical condition. Though epilepsy is only part of the whole narrative, it affects
the protagonists entire life in New York and ultimately leads to a paradoxi-
cal fear of leaving the restricting at because of the danger of being seized by
an epileptic t in the streets while alone. This fear of being exposed to a dan-
gerous solitude among the multitude of people in the city is contrasted with
the self-imposed solitude within her at in the last panels.
This self-imposed solitude in Doucets comic can also be read as a fem-
inist statement. Similar to David Bs treatment of epilepsy, Doucet also links
fundamental social structures with the representation of the disease. In this
case the disease mirrors questions of feminism, sexuality, and gender. The rela-
tionship of the protagonist and her boyfriend develops from a balanced part-
nership to a suppressive system of control that he establishes over her when

Julie becomes more and more successful as a comic artist. The epileptic ts
increase parallel to this development and in the end the boyfriend, who
remains nameless, even blames the disease for the problems the couple encoun-
ters: You know Julie, I think something is wrong with your new dose of med-
ication! Havent you noticed, youre acting different since youre on it ... youre
treating me so coldly (My New York Diary 45). While the disease increas-
ingly dominates Julies body, her boyfriend wields social control. He tries to
preserve the territorial borders of his masculinity and the protagonists female
body is thus captured under a double pressure. She can only free herself by
turning away from her New York life. Ann Miller and Murray Pratt conse-
quently see Doucets text as an example of a reterritorialization of the female
body (n.p.).
The crucial question is, however, in which way and by whom the female
body gets reterritorialized.* Miller and Pratt understand the reterritorializa-
tion as an alternative cultural mapping of the female body whereby, accord-
ing to Mary Douglas, social taboos institute and maintain the boundaries of
the body as such (see Butler 131) But how does Julie Doucet transgress these
borders of her body, and how does she redene the cultural mapping she is
subjected to? At this point the autobiographical aspect kicks in: By drawing
herself and thereby creating a distance to herself or staging herself at a dis-
tance from herself, she discusses the comic in general, and the autobiograph-
ical comic specically, as a constructed medium that is far from displaying
absolute authenticity. By disclosing the comic as something constructed, she
unmasks the constructed character of the social implications connected with
epilepsy. The restriction of the individuals free space as a result of the dis-
ease is similar to the restrictions of the protagonist by her partner by means
of social control. In the last panel of the comic Doucet disengages from the
strict constructedness of the rest of the comic. She dissolves the limiting bor-
ders of the panels and of the social framework, which allows her protagonist,
Julie, to transgress the constructedness of her disease, her female body, and
her life in the city. A New York brass band, which stands metonymically for
the determinating forces she has experienced in the city, virtually blows her
out of the metropolis.
In a similar way as David B, Doucet uses the motif of epilepsy as a start-
*As Leigh Gilmore observes, even womens self-representation describes a territory that is largely
unmapped, indeed unrecognizable (5). The field of autobiographic writing and the academic criti-
cism dealing with it are largely dominated by men.
This does not mean that the content of an autobiographical comic is necessarily untrue. The prob-
lem of authenticity concerns all kinds of autobiography. Graphic novels are as true as any other auto-
biographical text.
A brass band sees Julie out of NYC (Julie Doucet: My New York Diary. 1999, 2004,
Julie Doucet).
ing point for an examination of her personal environment and society as a

whole. The diseases effects on the body are mirrored in the aesthetical
conguration of both graphic novels, yet in two quite different ways. Pre-
cisely this similarity of theme and difference in aesthetical realization reveals
the wide range of possibilities inherent in the graphic novel, which proves a
exible medium for the development of an independent aesthetic strategy for
an approximation of ones own biography. Both David B and Doucet use the
specic elements of comics and operate in different ways with the con-
trast between the overabundance of what is drawn in the panels and the empty
space. This connects their work and divides their graphic novels at the same
time. Where David B lls the panels with surreal images, they get loaded with
threatening objects in Doucets case. In the work of both artists, a conven-
tional attribute of the comic the limitation of the panels is employed to
represent an absence, something that is not directly pictured in the panel. The
inclusion of surreal elements and dream-like artwork in LAscension du haut
mal does not so much refer to something beyond reality but primarily com-
municates social facts of exclusion and social stigmatization. Doucet uses the
limitation of the panels to express the restriction caused by the disease. The
phrase picture this strikingly encapsulates both attempts to show something
beyond mere illustration. This can also be seen as a call on the reader to use
his own imagination, as Andreas Platthaus has noticed (195). The reader
should not stop short at a passive reception of an illustration but understand
the image as an offering, as an open system that, along the lines of Umberto
Ecos understanding of this term, becomes a receptory eld for ones own
experience and which is more open to questions than to delivering answers
(cf. Eco 162ff ). This questions, for example, the social implications connected
with epilepsy and invites to reect on the possibilities of autobiographic
graphic novels in general.
This self-reexivity unites the two approaches of David B and Doucet
and shows that they dont envision their individual, autobiographical rendi-
tion of the disease as the only one possible approximation of epilepsy. Their
work illustrates that a working denition of autobiographical comics should
not derive from a claim of authenticity but from a search for an intense nar-
rative and graphic rendition of the subjective perception of ones own life.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Baetens, January Autobiographies et Bandes Dessines. Belphgor IV.1 (2004). http://etc.
dal.ca/belphegor/vo14_no1/articles/04_01_Baeten_autobd_fr.html (10 September 2007).
Benjamin, Walter. Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner Technischen Reproduzierbarkeit.
Zweite Fassung. Gesammelte Schriften. Band VII.1, edited by Rolf Tiedemann and Her-
mann Schweppenhuser. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1991, 35084.
_____. Einbahnstrae. Gesammelte Schriften. Band IV.1, edited by Rolf Tiedemann and Her-
mann Schweppenhuser. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1972, 83148.
Bourdieu, Pierre. Raisons Pratiques. Sur la Thorie de lAction. Paris: Seuil, 1994.
Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble. Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. London: Routledge,
1990.
David B. Babel. Paris: Vertige Graphic, 2004.
_____. LAscension du haut mal. Paris: LAssociation, 19962001.
_____. Le Cheval Blme. Paris: LAssociation, 1992.
Doucet, Julie. Lve ta Jambe mon Poisson est Mort! Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 1993.
_____. My New York Diary. Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 2004.
_____. The Madame Paul Affair. Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 2000.
Eco, Umberto. Einfhrung in die Semiotik. Mnchen: Fink, 1994.
Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish. The Birth of the Prison. Harmondsworth: Penguin,
1991.
_____. Madness and Civilization. London: Routledge, 2001.
Gilmore, Leigh. Autobiographics: A Feminist Theory of Womens Self-Representation. New York:
Cornell University, 1995.
Hateld, James. Alternative Comics: An Emerging Literature. Jackson: University Press of Mis-
sissippi, 2005.
Lejeune, Philippe. Le Pacte Autobiographique. Nouvelle dition Augmente. Paris: Seuil, 1996.
Miller, Ann and Murray Pratt. Transgressive Bodies in the Work of Julie Doucet, Fabrice
Neaud and Jean-Christophe Menu: Towards a Theory of the AutobioBD. Belphgor IV.1
(2004). http://etc.dal.ca/belphegor/vo14_no1/articles/04_01_Miller_trnsgr_fr.html (10
September 2007).
Packard, Stephan. Anatomie des Comics. Psychosemiotische Medienanalyse. Gttingen: Wall-
stein, 2006.
Peeters, Frederik. Pilules Bleues. Genve: Atrabile, 2001.
Platthaus, Andreas. Sprechen Wir ber Mich. Die Rckkehr des Autobiograschen Ele-
ments in den Comic. Szenarien des Comic. Helden und Historien im Medium der Schrift-
bildlichkeit, edited by Stefanie Diekmann and Matthias Schneider. Berlin: Sukultur, 2005,
193208.
Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis 1 4. Paris: LAssociation, 20002003.
Schneeble: Hansjoerg. Heillos, Heilig, Heilbar: Die Geschichte der Epilepsie von den Anfn-
gen bis Heute. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003.
Seelen, Georg. Geschichte als Trauma. Der Franzsische Zeichner Jacques Tardi Arbeitet
an einer Chronik des Apokalypse des Brgertums. Konkret July 2006: 51 53.
Temkin, Owsei. The Falling Sickness. A History of Epilepsy From the Greeks to the Beginnings
of Modern Neurolog y. 2nd edition. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1971.
Thompson, Craig. Blankets, Marietta, GA: Top Shelf, 20032005.
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griff und Literatur. Trauma. Zwischen Psychoanalyse und Kulturellem Deutungsmuster,
edited by Elisabeth Bronfen, Birgit R. Erdle and Sigrid Weigel. Cologne, Weimar and
Vienna: Bhlau, 1999, 51 76.
Weinberg, Manfred. Trauma Geschichte, Gespenst, Literatur und Gedchtnis.
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fen, Birgit R. Erdle and Sigrid Weigel. Cologne, Weimar and Vienna: Bhlau, 1999, 173
206.
5
Novel-Based Comics
Paul Ferstl
The comic adaptation of literary classics has already formed its own tra-
dition. It started to rouse general interest with the success of Albert Kanter
Lewis series Classics Illustrated, which published 167 titles of world literature
from 1941 to 1969 (cf. Horn 204). The series was designed to improve the
image of comics, which suffered more and more from the assertion that young
comic readers would more likely be drawn toward crime and even violence
as a result of the atrocities depicted in particular in horror magazines (cf.
Horn 859913). Classics Illustrated sought the approval of education experts
and parents alike by using established literary works as a basis for the series;
it presented comics as a way of introducing children and teenagers to the
world of literature while retaining the concept of action- and suspense-driven
storylines to attract the young readers interest.
With copies selling by the million and several reprints from different
publishers until the end of the 20th century, the concept proved successful.
Comics were even used as teaching material in literature classes which led to
several publishers specializing in producing comics designed for use in schools,
along with teachers manuals to optimize the mediums potential in education
(e.g., the Hodder & Stoughton series Livewire Graphics).
The concept of incorporating familiar storylines, motives and protago-
nists of the literary pool was widely used in other popular series as well in
the Disney universe alone hundreds of literature adaptations were published,
especially by Italian artists whose works were also frequently translated for
circulation in the German-speaking market. This development coincided with
the rise of the comic artists lobbying for greater acceptance of the medium
as a form of art, and teaming up comic art with literature seemed a promis-
ing way to gain further respect.
In recent years artists have often been striving to reach an adult audi-
60
5. Novel-Based Comics (Ferstl) 61
ence by adapting literature and consequently have distanced themselves from

the concept used in Classics Illustrated. That series, while it relied on the sta-
tus of canonized works, offered artwork of variable quality and was designed
to convey the greatest amount of information possible at a rapid pace while
reducing the storyline to a simple thread that could be followed easily. Thus
comics were created whose famous titles were sometimes not more than ves-
sels containing horror stories quite similar to those that were the reason for
so much concern in the United States of the 1950s. The 89th issue of Clas-
sics Illustrated, an adaptation of Dostoyevskys Crime and Punishment, offered
nothing more than the story of an axe-murderer trying to avoid discovery. A
central element of the novel, the sudden bouts of regret which lead to the
murderer giving himself up to the police, are only shown in two quite unex-
pected pages at the end of the story. In the essay accompanying the comic in
the 1997 version, Andrew J. Hoffman points out that the murderer does not
do justice to Dostoevskys Raskolnikow; the essay therefore tries to supply
the information on Crime and Punishment the comic version does not offer
(Crime and Punishment 55). Considering this and other daring enterprises of
the series, for example, summing up Goethes Faust II in merely ten pages
(Classics Illustrated Nr. 167), it is understandable that comic artists yearning
for critical acclaim showed little interest in being connected to this series,
choosing instead to display open criticism.
With the rise of what has been termed the graphic novel which backed
the development of book-length comics dealing with serious matters, the
interest in collaboration with literature increased once more. The main rea-
sons for adapting literature in comics were similar to those that had led to
Classics Illustrated: improving the perception of the medium by visualizing
literature and thus proting from the esteem paid to the latter. This could be
combined with the greater probability of commercial success of the comics
due to their connection to already widely known titles. But in contrast to
previous projects like Classics Illustrated these new adaptations of literature
presented content and artwork worthwhile for an adult audience and thus
aimed at demonstrating the comics potential for telling complex stories in a
unique style as an independent form of narrative visual art.
In the early 1990s, the comic artist Art Spiegelman convinced his edi-
tors to try to collaborate with some serious novelists to provide scenarios for
skilled graphic artists (Spiegelman, City of Glass, Preface). This resulted in
the adaptation of Paul Austers City of Glass by Paul Karasik and David Maz-
zucchelli in 1994. In the adaptations introduction Spiegelman stated that the
goal here was not to create some dumbed-down Classics Illustrated versions,
but visual translations actually worthy of adult attention (Spiegelman, City
of Glass, Preface). Similar views were expressed by Jules Feiffer in his intro-
duction to Peter Kupers adaptations of a collection of Kafkas short stories.

Feiffer calls this project a good idea (e)specially for those of us who detest
the Classics Illustrated concept, which is to upgrade the image of comic art
by cross-dressing it with culturally signicant heavyweights (Give it up! 3).
Together with other interesting adaptations of literature since the early
1990s (especially the series of Stphane Heuet based upon Marcel Prousts
la recherche du temps perdu, Posy Simmonds Gemma Bovery, Martin Rowsons
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman and Will Eisners dis-
cussion of Charles Dickens Oliver Twist in Fagin the Jew), the comics by Kuper
and Karasik/Mazzucchelli will serve as examples for the following analysis of
general techniques used in comic adaptation. This will be followed by the
discussion of a probably less well-known comic from the German-speaking
market, Isabel Kreitzs version of Uwe Timms Die Entdeckung der Currywurst
(The Discovery of Curried Sausage).
TECHNIQUES OF ADAPTATION
The techniques used in comic adaptation are similar to those used in

other media crossovers and may be compared to preparing a drama for the
stage. Decisions must be made considering the general plot, especially if deal-
ing with complex structures involving different narrative levels; storylines
have to be connected, abridged or omitted; a pool of characters has to be
established and maybe characters have to be merged to reduce the dramatis
personae.
Deciding on the incorporation of original text into the comic version is
another crucial step, as it plays an important role in dening the comics style.
Using large portions of original text may automatically lead to employing a
narrative strategy similar to the original, for example by establishing a nar-
rators point of view. A narrators voice may be inserted using text-only pan-
els, creating a similar but arguably less convincing effect than voice-overs used
in lm. But, generally speaking, a text narrated in the rst person is inevitably
drawn toward a third person point of view in the adaptation, even if parts
from the original are prominently featured in the comic. This is due to the
almost unavoidable graphic depiction of protagonists referred to as I, which
widens the gap between reader and narrator and makes identication and the
classical perception through the eyes of the rst person narrator more dif-
cult.
Text used in speech balloons is usually derived from dialogue in the orig-
inal, from free indirect speech or context. The artists task of conveying the
originals information is often met by manipulating the available space and
employing the tools of the trade: panel-management, cuts, changes of per-

spective, timing, and imagery in the chosen style.
A rather obvious difference between adaptations and other comics lies
in product presentation. The adaptations make frequent use of paratexts (fore-
words, introductions and afterwords) explaining the choice to adapt litera-
ture by discussing motivation and/or methods. A section offering information
on the adapted text is often included for educational purposes especially in
the Classics Illustrated series. Other adaptations may contain further informa-
tion on the comics topic.
The various reasons for adapting literature in comics are closely related.
If the interest lies in content, the original is chosen because it offers a good
and sound story and/or addresses a topic of special interest. This is of course
combined with the obvious marketing advantages of being linked to a well-
known title and thus hopefully appealing to a greater audience. Adaptations
range from detailed retelling to being loosely based on or just inspired by
the original. They may use all or only some storylines of the original, or they
might even concentrate on a single character (not necessarily the protagonist
of the original). The adaptations can transport events to another setting or
present sequels of the original. The possibilities of manipulating the original
material are indeed numerous. If the artist wants to inuence public opinion
on sensitive issues not addressed in the original, they may be shown in new
light in the comic version by changing the point of view and expanding or
rewriting the original storyline.
An interesting example of this strategy is Will Eisners Fagin the Jew (2003),
which sets out to tell the life story of Moses Fagin, the infamous villain of
Dickens Oliver Twist. As Eisner states in his foreword: I was examining folk-
tales and literary classics for possible graphic adaptation, [and] I became aware
of the origins of the ethnic stereotypes we accept without question. Upon
examining the illustrations of the Original editions of Oliver Twist, I found
an unquestionable example of visual defamation in classic literature (4).
Eisners comic builds on the rich tradition of Dickens-related reception.
It deliberately cites the works of George Cruikshank, the original illustrator
of Oliver Twist (see Fagin the Jew 125), and sheds new light on the reception
of the cultural inuence of Dickens work by eshing out Fagins character
by constructing a backstory for him that bears obvious similarities to Oliver
Twists fate. Eisner thus changes the novels content to t his ends by simpli-
fying the plot related to the original protagonist, Oliver Twist, and by omit-
ting some of the negative characteristics of Fagin, but he retains the main
events and shows them in the context of Jewish life and antiSemitism in 19th-
century Britain.
Another creative example of a somewhat similar strategy is Posy Sim-
monds Gemma Bovery (1999). This comic relates the story of a young English
woman who tries to start a new life in rural France in the 1990s. Unfortu-
nately, her life seems to be constantly inuenced by her name that bears a
striking resemblance to that of Gustave Flauberts heroine Emma Bovary. The
parallels and differences between the stories of these two women form an
intriguing pattern of links as Gemma Bovery tries to break away from the
inevitable fate set by the original.
As a part of the reception of a major oeuvre, comic adaptations may con-
tribute to the reception of a known work of literature by illustrating certain
parts or even a complete series of novels in order to introduce new readers to
the original novel or add further interest for those already familiar with the
book. Starting out close to the original text (often featuring many direct cita-
tions), such a comic offers a complementary view on the events by illustra-
tion. Paintings, cities, buildings and landscapes featured in the original may
be cited by graphic reproduction, a method frequently employed in Stphane
Heuets adaptation of Marcel Prousts la recherche du temps perdu.* Start-
ing in 1998, Heuet has so far published four albums that are based on parts
of the rst two novels, Du ct de chez Swann and lombre des jeunes lles
en eurs. So far roughly 350 pages of text have been adapted, lling 216 comic
pages in his last album almost reaching the unusual rate of one comic page
per page adapted.
Heuet has adopted the narrative structure of the original text and is
closely following the sequence of events, using special panels for inserted orig-
inal text. It is easy to trace Prousts text in Heuets comic as he does not merge
different scenes. Considerable gaps in the citation of sentences from the orig-
inal occur only in long passages describing the scenery whose function is
largely taken over by the images provided by Heuet. All the text in the comic
is taken straight from the original; minor changes occur only in form of
abridgements (especially in the case of extended metaphors, comparisons,
digressions and off-topic reections) or altered pronouns and conjunctions.
Speech balloons are lled with text from dialogue in the novels, from free
indirect speech, or with sentences from the context given in the original. In
album I (Combray) Heuet omits only two scenes from the original text: Ms.
Swanns father is not portrayed and the dialogue between the narrators mother
and Ms. Swann is not given but it gures in the comic nonetheless as they
are seen talking in the background of a picture (page 9, panel 3) until their
conversation is interrupted by the same sentence that interrupts it in the orig-
inal text (page 9, panel 4; cf. Proust 29).
*See, for example, the use of La Charit de Giotto, which features prominently in Prousts novel (72)
and also appears in Heuets first album (page 34, panel 7).
In addition to the manifold ways that famous literary plots are manip-
ulated to create innovative graphic novels, literature is sometimes used in
comics to provide a basis for rather experimental visual expression. An exper-
imental graphic vocabulary is then used to interpret the text while relying on
its familiarity to the reader. Graphic associations and the visualization of
metaphors and comparisons offer the reader additional information as well as
the possibility of re-reading a familiar text while at the same time presenting
the mediums potential. The use of a well-known text also strengthens the
comic artists control of the narrative as he is able to manipulate likely expec-
tations. Examples of such graphically innovative, novel-based comics are Peter
Kupers Kafka adaptations, Martin Rowsons The Life and Opinions of Tris-
tram Shandy, Gentleman (1996), or Karasik/Mazzucchellis City of Glass, which
all make extensive use of exible panel management and hard contrasts in black
and white to illustrate abstract concepts with creative imagery. Karasik and
Mazzucchelli highlight the different narrative and emotional levels of the orig-
inal in a compact and effective way by using different graphical styles as their
characteristics and interlink those levels, side by side, on a single comic page.
Rowsons stylized incorporation of 18th-century paratexts (such as erratum
plates or dedications) links the comic with the original while it establishes an
intriguing alienation effect.
A CLOSER LOOK: DIE ENTDECKUNG DER CURRYWURST
Isabel Kreitzs comic version of Uwe Timms novella Die Entdeckung der
Currywurst was published in 1996 under the title Die Entdeckung der Curry-
wurst. Nach einem Roman von Uwe Timm. The novella relates the story of 43-
year-old Lena Brcker who hides the deserted German Navy soldier Bremer
in her apartment during the last days of World War II. All of this is told by
Lena years later, as an old woman, to the narrator of the novella. The main
interest of Timms text is that Bremer who meets Lena Brcker by chance
while being transferred to Hamburg to serve in the already lost battle in east-
ern Germany, spends the night at her apartment and subsequently accepts her
offer to hide him is kept unaware of the capitulation of the German forces,
as Brcker, 19 years his senior, does not want to lose her young lover. When
Bremer nally leaves, Brcker starts a successful take-away as a result of her
discovery of the now famous curried sausage.
The comic version by Isabel Kreitz, which transforms the 220 pages of
the original into 45 pages, is true to the text as far as the overall narrative
structure is concerned. The frame narrative, which relates the narrators search
for Lena Brcker and their subsequent interviews, is retained but consider-
ably abridged. It gures only briey at the beginning and the end of the comic
and in four short inserted scenes. The narrator is visualized, but fullls his
narrative function only in the opening and closing scenes of the comic. In
the frame and main narrative, the pool of characters is reduced to those
absolutely necessary; the storyline is condensed accordingly and often com-
bines similar scenes from different sections of the original text into a single
event on a comic page.
With the exception of the frame narrative, all written information is
conveyed through speech balloons. The text is taken directly from dialogue
or free indirect speech of the original and occasionally combined with text
derived from the general context. Again, abridgements seem inevitable. The
language of the comic is slightly less formal than the novellas. Northern Ger-
man dialect is more often employed and the dialogue between the main char-
acters is more casual and implicates a rst-name basis right from the start.
Each page in the comic consists of four regular rows of panels with one
notable exception: the opening scene of the main narrative that shows a street
of war-time Hamburg covering half the page. The number of panels per page
generally ranges from six to eight, except for three pages where the narrative
ow is changed by increasing the number of panels per page to ten to create
suspense or illustrate turning points (see Kreitz 24; 33; 43).
The realistic style drawn in black and white employed by Kreitz recalls
war-time photographs. The absence of visual metaphors such as sweat drops
indicating fear or excitement and the reserved use of speed lines add to the
impression of calm realism. Lena Brckers piercing gaze creates an impres-
sion of suspicion and exhaustion held in check by stern determination, occa-
sionally softened by eeting moments of happiness (see Kreitz 25; 44; 45).
One unusual formal device stands out against the straight realism of Kreitzs
comic: The adoption of a passage of the novella in which the events that lead
directly to the discovery of the Currywurst are presented in a condensed
way as opposites juxtaposed: Despair and hope, regret and joy, loss of hard-
to-come-by goods and the discovery of a recipe; failure and new beginning
(see Kreitz 42 in comparison to Timm 211). Other scenes that could have led
to surrealistic images such as Bremers account of his dream after rst hav-
ing eaten curry, when he dreamt he was a tree being tickled to ts of laugh-
ter by the wind (see Timm 98) were not included in Kreitz version.
This seemingly simple realism of the comic version is somewhat decep-
tive. For a clearer understanding of the potential of the adaptation in ques-
tion, a closer look at the text is necessary. Pages 30 and 31 of the comic version
of Die Entdeckung der Currywurst skillfully condense several passages of the
novella and use the material to prepare one of the storys turning points. In
panel 1 (Kreitz 30), Bremer is seen smoking one of the cigarettes Lena Brcker
has brought him. His comment on its quality is a direct citation, Meine
Gte! Wer solche Zigaretten macht, gewinnt auch Kriege! (Good Lord! Peo-
ple who produce such cigarettes will win wars! Timm 138). This is unwit-
tingly ironic as he is unaware, due to Lenas deception, that he is not smoking
a German cigarette but a British brand.
Panel 2 refers to Bremers habit of following the wars progress on a
map after he has been led to believe by Brcker that Germany has joined forces
with the western Allies against Russia.* The ironic potential of this situation,
which is referred to in the novella as the Great War Council of the Admi-
rals (Groe Lagebesprechung beim Admiral, Timm 138), is omitted. Panel
4 once again features a direct citation (Die Wende, Timm 114).
Panels 5, 6, and 7 show Bremers surprise at discovering that black-mar-
ket business is conducted rather openly in the streets, an unusual occurrence
for times of war (cf. Timm 149). This leads to his suspecting that something
is amiss with the information he gets from Brcker. The following nine pan-
els then illustrate the violent struggle following Brckers refusal to obtain a
radio for Bremer. The dialogue used here is constructed from the originals
free indirect speech and reduced to a minimum. Bremer starts cursing, knocks
everything off the table and confronts Brcker, who is driven against the wall
with outstretched hands and open, empty palms. While he is speaking of
execution, he is shown in a menacing pose, his body nearly crushing the
panels frame, his right hand pointed at Brcker as if he were about to shoot
her. The cut from this panel to the next is difcult to follow as Brcker is
suddenly behind him, forcing him to the oor.
In the novella, Bremers fear for his life is confronted with Brckers
nonchalant soothing, which is based on her knowledge that there are no more
Nazi execution squads in the streets. Unable to understand her cool reaction,
Bremer enters into a screaming t, throws the dishes off the table and tries
unsuccessfully to leave the apartment. The door is always kept locked by
Brcker. Venting his aggression against the closed door, Bremer is overpow-
ered by Brcker until he calms down (cf. Timm 153).
This example clearly shows the strategy used by Kreitz. Wartime expe-
rience is emphasized in the comic. The unavoidable condensation of mate-
rial in a relatively short adaptation made it necessary to simplify the story of
*The text Kreitz uses here is mostly derived from information given indirectly in the novella. There are,
however, a few significant deviations from the original. In the novella, Brcker offers the information
that she has heard that Montgomery was advancing toward the East (Sie hatte in der Kantine gehrt,
da Montgomery weiter nach Osten vorrckte Timm 138). Kreitz transfers this honor to Winston
Churchill. It is possible that this was a deliberate choice, supposedly because the British field marshal,
Montgomery, would be less well known to a broader audience than the prime minister. Yet in panel 3
Montgomery is referred to, taking the place of General Eisenhower in the original (Timm 138), which
leads to the assumption that the change is probably due to a genuine mistake on Kreitz part.
a complex woman in times of war who, after nally having a fullling rela-
tionship, quite understandably tries to make it last a little longer. In the comic,
the relationship as a whole is kept as unproblematic as possible. Complica-
tions are omitted or understated. The heavy sexual allusions of the original
are signicantly reduced and the age difference between the protagonists is
not noticeable visually.*
The comics focus is certainly on Germany at the end of World War II,
showing life in a bombed city in 1945. The struggle for survival in the after-
math of the war is combined with a love entanglement. Accordingly, the comic
offers an additional 12-page documentation by the journalist Frank Giese
about Hamburg in this period, underlining the books inherent claim of being
serious and informative (see Kreitz 5061). The parallels between the con-
cept used by Kreitz and Classics Illustrated are obvious.
The comic version of Die Entdeckung der Currywurst is what one could
call a straight war-time story set in Nazi Germany and in the weeks imme-
diately after the war. The Nazis are the evil Nazis. The ner shades of the
originals wide range between open support of and resistance to the Nazi
regime are largely omitted. The heroine is an independent, resourceful, strong
woman, who is critical of the regime, courageous and passionate, but not
larger than life. From the ashes of war rises new life, and Lena Brckers strug-
gle for survival and her eventual success mirror that of her country.
The war is over. Its result: curried sausage.
CONCLUSION
The comic adaptation of literature has formed a rich tradition offering

numerous titles. The connection with culturally signicant heavyweights has
its dangers, of course staying too close to the original may lead to results
that do not improve the status of comics. The reductive concept of Classics
Illustrated is still a tempting one, as it has proven its commercial potential,
but the cooperation of comic art and literature has far more to offer than
mere illustration, even if, unfortunately, comic adaptations are still frequently
presented as such. The originals title and its author are usually emphasized
while the work of the comic artist is mentioned only in a by-line. Notable
exceptions are the comics by Eisner, Kreitz, Rowson and Simmonds.
At their best, comics adaptations transform the chosen text into a new
*The pictoral rendition makes Brcker look younger and Bremer older than they are in the novella. The
age difference is only once spoken of directly in the comic and then even incorrectly as the comics Lena
Brcker states in retrospect that Bremer was nearly 15 years her junior (Kreitz 27) instead of the 19
years that divide them in the novella.
independent piece of art that gains its own momentum when the links to the
original are skillfully manipulated in order to form a pattern of intricately
woven ties. A novel may be an auspicious starting point but only if the
journey leads to the creation of a comic that makes full use of the graphic
mediums potential.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Auster, Paul. City of Glass. Adaptation by Paul Karasik and David Mazzucchelli. New Intro-
duction by Art Spiegelman. New York: Picador, 2004.
Dickens, Charles. Oliver Twist. Edited by Kathleen Tillotson. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974
[1837].
_____. Oliver Twist & Notes. Art by Arnold Hicks. Adaptation by Georgina Campbell. New
York: Acclaim, 1997. (Classics Illustrated 23.)
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime & Punishment & Notes. Art by Rudolph Palais. New York:
Acclaim, 1997. (Classics Illustrated 89.)
Eisner, Will. Fagin the Jew. New York: Doubleday, 2003.
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. Faust & Notes. Art by Norman Nodel. New York: Acclaim,
1997. (Classics Illustrated 167.)
Horn, Maurice (ed.). The World Encyclopedia of Comics. Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 1999.
Kafka, Franz. Give it up! And Other Short Stories. Illustrated by Peter Kuper. New York:
NBM, 1995.
_____. The Metamorphosis. Adapted by Peter Kuper. New York: Crown, 2003.
Kreitz, Isabel. Die Entdeckung der Currywurst. Adapted from the novel by Uwe Timm. Ham-
burg: Carlsen, 2005.
Proust, Marcel. la recherch du temps perdu. Texte tabli sous la direction de Jean-Yves Tadi.
Quarto Gallimard. Paris: ditions Gallimard, 1999 [19131927].
_____. la recherche du temps perdu. Combray. Adaptation et dessins de Stphane Heuet. Paris:
Editions DelCourt, 1998.
_____. la recherche du temps perdu. lombre des jeunes lles en eurs. Volume I. Dessins de
Stphane Heuet. Paris: Editions DelCourt, 2000.
_____. la recherche du temps perdu. lombre des jeunes lles en eurs. Volume II. Dessins de
Stphane Heuet. Paris: Editions DelCourt, 2002.
_____. la recherche du temps perdu. Un amour de Swann. Adaptation et dessins de Stphane
Heuet. Paris: Editions DelCourt, 2006.
Rowson, Martin. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. London: Picador,
1996.
Simmonds, Posy. Gemma Bovery. London: Jonathan Cape, 1999.
Timm, Uwe. Die Entdeckung der Currywurst. Kln: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1993.
6
In the Art of the Beholder:
Comics as Political Journalism
Dirk Vanderbeke
Over the last decades, comics and graphic novels have accumulated quite
a number of ancestors from high culture, chiey in the attempt to boost the
mediums respectability in the face of the traditional accusations of medioc-
rity, if not outright degeneracy. Among the worthy forefathers we can nd
Frans Masareel, Wilhelm Busch, Rudolphe Tpffer, and if we look further
into the past there is William Hogarth with his sequential works. Then there
are the pictorial narratives to be found in medieval frescoes, illuminations,
stained glass windows or the Bayeux Tapestry. Even earlier are preColumbian
art or Egyptian narrative paintings (cf, for example, McCloud 1019 and Zim-
mermann 25051), and ultimately we can reach back to the very rst works
of art, that is, prehistoric cave painting, in our quest for the rst parents of
the comic strip (cf. Burgdorf 9 and Zimmermann 250).
Other ancestors are not quite as often linked to the comic in the quest
for an honorable pedigree, as, for example, erotic or pornographic series of
pictures the Tijuana Bibles also have a long history.
Then there are popular religious series like the Danse Macabre, and, to
jump just a little into a later part of my paper, the most famous comics jour-
nalist, Joe Sacco, has pointed out that Brueghels The Triumph of Death has
been an inspiration for his work (cf. Sacco Presentation from 2002 UF
Comics Conference), and that picture shares many of its characteristics with
the danse macabre.
However, the genre that is most interesting here comprises the broad-
side, catchpenny or similar popular publications, and specically their rele-
vance as an early form of journalism. In his introduction to a selection of texts
from the Newgate Calendar, Clive Emsley writes:
70
6. In the Art of the Beholder (Vanderbeke) 71
A broadside depicting a horrible murder (Johann Schubert: A Musician Kills Preg-

nant Wife and Child. Broadside with Woodcut, Neisse 1653 Staatsbibliothek Bam-
berg VI G 111). For the broadside with text see Cheesman, xviii.
Most people get their knowledge of crime from different forms of media repre-
sentations; and it has been thus for centuries. The print medium has had a long
affair with crime, especially lurid, sensational, violent crime. From at least the
seventeenth century, broadsides were printed and sold at public executions,
detailing the crimes, and the last dying speeches, of offenders [Emsley IX].
And as a major part of the audiences at such public events was illiterate, the
written accounts were frequently accompanied by woodcuts presenting the
reader with the fascinating and shocking details of the hideous deeds.
According to Tom Cheesman,*
The performance of the news singers, bench singers (cantabancs) and pic-
ture singers, as they were variously known, constituted the most accessible,
mobile and all-round popular form of public multi-media spectacle through the
period of the early growth of the culture industry: between the rst emergence
of a market in vernacular print publications, and the development of the electri-
cal technologies of mass communication colour magazines, cinema, radio,
gramophones which nally made picture-balladeers redundant [Cheesman 2].
The shocking ballads presented in these spectacles are usually catego-
rized as part of the cheapest and lowest forms of literature.
Shocking balladry has long been castigated for failing both by the stan-
dards of literary, musical, dramatic and visual aesthetics, and by those of jour-
nalistic and historiographical ethics (Cheesman 5).
*I should like to thank Sigrid Rieuwerts, who brought the book by Tom Cheesman to my attention and
directed me to this woodcut.
However, the very assaults on this medium as recorded in this quote

evoke the recognition of a similarity rather than an incompatibility, and the
critique resembles very much the more recent complaints about the tabloids.
The term news singer indicates a transmission of information commonly
associated with journalism:
It is obviously a forerunner of the tabloid press, of the commercial cinema,
indeed of the actuality shows and true crime and disaster and rescue series
currently popular on television and their equivalents in magazines and books
[Cheesman 8].
Zeitung came to mean newspaper in the 18th century, but before that it
meant piece of news or report, Neue Zeitung (new tiding/report) was the
generic early modern term for ballad news-sheets [Cheesman 2, fn].
The shocking ballad made it into the early 20th century, but the journalistic
aspect of the crude and roughly made images did not survive the rise of pho-
tography and lm as the new appropriate media for the representation of real-
ity. Instead, the various forms of crime comics rather appear to be the true
descendants of the broadsides, while a faint echo of the claim to authentic-
ity can still be heard in the occasional bold assertion that the ghastly story is
based in truth and nothing but the truth.
The comic as a medium has for most of its history been generally asso-
ciated with distortions of reality, and, famously, it lends itself to the vision of
imaginary worlds, supernatural events or, alternatively, to abstractions that
can be not only funny but also useful in manuals or for educational purposes.
In addition, for most of its history the comic has been categorized as a pri-
marily juvenile medium, even if it has always been read by adults as well.*
And nally comics have been predominantly regarded as a form of entertain-
ment and when utilized in the educational sector they have often been
regarded as a kind of didactic deceit, a sugar coating for the bitter pill of learn-
ing. However, this traditional perspective has been increasingly challenged
and comics have gradually gained acceptance and status. When Silbermann
in 1986 offered a list of examples from different cultural contexts (comics in
schoolbooks, Third World Comics for educational purposes, a biography of
Pope John Paul II in comic form, a political comic Marx for Beginners etc.,
cf. Silbermann 23) it may not yet have convincingly re-evaluated the medium
as a mature form for an educated readership but rather as a means to approach
audiences that cannot be successfully and commercially reached by the
*According to research done by Alphons Silbermann, adults form a big, if not the biggest part of comic
consumers (Silbermann 23). However, the subsequent analysis of the readers actual interest in the
medium shows aspects that indicate a juvenile approach, that is, identification with a hero who has
an energetic personality, thinks and acts independently and ultimately conforms to some ideal (cf. Sil-
bermann 23).
more usual channels. However, it did indicate a trend with increasing momen-
tum toward a visual culture in which comics could reclaim positions the
sequential arts had lost to other media, among them the ability to address
social and political reality in nontrivial and mature works of journalism.
I want to suggest that at least two important developments contributed
to this trend. On the one hand the photographic claim to authenticity came
under attack with the postmodern challenge to each and every form of rep-
resentation. The reproduction of reality on lm and photo has been retheo-
rized as a construction involving the usual ways of world-making like
composition and decomposition, selection and combination, etc., and thus
it has become more difcult to maintain unqualied claims to truthfulness.
On the other hand and within a less theoretical context, the audiences trust
in photographic and cinematographic authenticity has decreased with the
advance of digital media and the new possibilities of postproduction. Once
the impossible and the fantastic become commonplace in lm and photo,
indistinguishable from the real, the aura of authenticity is lost and Godards
claim that lm is truth, 24 times per second rings hollow. In contrast to
traditional responses, it is no longer the perfect illusion created by a movie
that evokes an aura of authenticity but the very imperfection of the visual
material. The Blair Witch Project now seems far more realistic than any of the
other recent blockbusters that rely on extensive digital postproduction. The
jump cut or the slightly unstable handheld camera of the Dogma movies have
become the hallmark of a new redemption of physical reality; the real
requires the visual traces of constructedness to appear as real.
Journalism has not been exempt from these developments, and one might
even argue that some subgenres of journalism carried the torch for a re-eval-
uation of authenticity. In particular the New Journalism that ourished in
the 1960s and 1970s employed previously unacceptable methods of ction
and a departure from the various codes of verication for its own ends. An
important aspect was a turn toward a subjective perspective and the empha-
sis on experience rather than accuracy and factuality. John Hollowell suggested
that the events reported daily by newspapers and magazines [...] often strained
our imaginations to the point of disbelief. Increasingly, everyday reality
became more fantastic than the ctional visions of even our best novelists
(Hollowell 3). In particular the experience of war and extreme violence seems
to have required a revision of the traditional modes of realism the inabil-
ity of the imagination and language to grasp and express what is happening
characterizes reality as fantastic (Hegerfeldt 218). The departure from the real-
istic mode is then a way to deal with a world that resists representation not
only for the well-rehearsed theoretical reasons but also because its horrors
have become ineffable. This is, of course, also a phenomenon in Holocaust
literature, that is, authors struggling with the trauma of the Holocaust have
argued that the events were so far beyond the thinkable and imaginable that
they can only be accessed by a rejection of the strictly realistic mode and by
a turn to the fantastic (cf. Hegerfeldt 21215). Returning nally to the comic,
this is quite obviously one of the most important aspects of Art Spiegelmans
famed Maus. The displacement of the inexpressible terrors of the Holocaust
by the transformation into a genre usually associated with commercial enter-
tainment and the disneycation of the world results in an incompatibility of
content and form that in turn emphasizes the impossibility of coming to nar-
rative terms with the unreal realities of the Holocaust. A similar approach
can be found in Spiegelmans In the Shadow of No Towers in which he tries to
work through the trauma of his experience of 9/11. I want to argue that this
is a work of political journalism in the tradition of New Journalism rather
than a satirical account.* Of course, the work is primarily based in the sub-
jective experience of its author; however, this perspective offers a necessary
counterbalance to the ofcial appropriation of 9/11 by the Bush administra-
tion for its own political agenda and to the increasingly nationalistic and bel-
licose response by the media, which did not allow for any dissenting
view after all, In the Shadows of No Towers was rejected by various Ameri-
can newspapers and journals that had regularly published Spiegelman in the
past, for example, The New Yorker, The New York Review of Books and the
New York Times.
As Kristian Williams has pointed out, comics journalisms inherent sub-
jectivity contrasts sharply with the newsrooms dispassionate prose (Williams)
and it thus adopts a perspective previously explored by New Journalism.
Moreover, the use of fantastic elements may now serve as a new form of real-
ism, and Williams writes about Alan Moore and Bill Sienkiewiczs contribu-
tion to Brought to Light, that is, a comic book version of the history of the
CIA:
[T]he facts are there, and the nightmarish surrealism seems to t the subject
matter. Indeed, the reader is forced to question the propriety of the standard
journalistic conceits the calm recitation of facts, the carefully hedged allega-
tions, the measured tone. A drunken eagle swimming in blood may actually
come closer to the point [Williams].
While such an image is, of course, hardly compatible with traditional jour-
nalism, it is also a powerful metaphor and as such it makes use of the cog-
nitive potentials that have over the last decades been recognized as part and
parcel of the epistemology of metaphor. It is the very tension between the
*The similarity between the methods of comics journalists and New Journalism has also been addressed
by David J. Pett.
metaphorical and the factual that turns the image into an alternative path to
cognition.* To return to Spiegelman, In the Shadow of No Towers has a won-
derful panel with a miniscule plane crashing into a TV set with an interfer-
ence pattern resembling a distorted American ag. The image not only reects
on the potentials of comics and logos but also presents a very precise
metaphor for the way the media were hijacked into patriotic frenzy in the
aftermath of 9/11 (cf. Spiegelman 1).
In contrast to the ofcial images as distributed by the media, Spiegel-
mans work then attempts to recapture the personal visual experience on that
day in Manhattan there is one recurring image that didnt get photographed
or videotaped into public memory but still remains burned onto the inside
of my eyelids several months later [...] the image of the north towers glow-
ing bones just before it vaporised (Introduction to Spiegelman).
There is an account of the search for his daughter who went to school
in the vicinity of the World Trade Center. There are political cartoons. And
nally there are a multitude of intertextual quotes from comics of the late
19th and early 20th centuries. Of course, these pictures are highly subjective,
but then Art Spiegelman argues that
[t]he phoney objectivity that comes with a camera is a convention and a lie in
the same way as writing in the third person rather than the rst person. To write
a comics journalism report youre already making an acknowledgment of biases
and an urgency that communicates another level of information [qtd. after
Williams].
The turn from the assumed truth of the photographic image and also from
the detached perspective and bland rhetoric of traditional journalism toward
an emphasis of personal experience and artistic metaphorization challenges
the notions of accurate representation. It suggests that the reader cannot
simply rely on the journalistic voice but has to recreate the truth behind the
narrative on his or her own. Moreover, when the photographic recordings of
traditional journalism are usurped and turned into logos for political agen-
das and this is what happened to the image of the burning towers in
America the resistance against these pictures and their replacement by alter-
native images becomes a strong statement for a truth that will not succumb
to the hegemony created by the coalition between the media and the politi-
cal elite.
Art Spiegelman is at present probably the most famous of the serious
*Don Swanson writes about a psycholog y of metaphor that a metaphor, because it is an erroneous state-
ment, conflicts with our expectations. It releases, triggers, and stimulates our predisposition to detect
error and to take corrective action. [...] It preempts our attention and propels us on a quest for the
underlying truth (Swanson 162).
comic artists, but in the eld of comics journalism Joe Sacco is best known
as the author of the books Palestine, Safe Area Gorade and The Fixer.
Palestine deals with the experiences of his visit during the rst Intifada,
Safe Area Gorade with his stay in that city while it was an enclave in the
Bosnian War and The Fixer with one of his informants and translators in Sara-
jevo. And while Spiegelman is highly imaginative in the creation of an alter-
native reality that serves as a metaphor for political despair and his frustration
over the present state of the American nation, Saccos work sticks closer to
the realistic mode, even though his pictures are of course artistic and fre-
quently, as he calls it, cartoony. An important aspect of his works is once more
the rejection of the detached and seemingly unbiased journalistic voice and
photographic view. Joe Sacco has freely admitted that he is not an objective
journalist (cf. Sacco Presentation from 2002 UF Comics Conference), and
a lecture he gave in 2006 was titled To Hell with Objectivity: How Comics
Journalism Redenes Reporting. However, that does not indicate that he does
not strive for some essential truth in his work, and Inara Versemnieks argues
that Saccos work seems to come a bit closer to the truth than an account
told from a detached, omniscient point of view, one that washes out all sense
of the storyteller (Versemnieks).
The comic format offers several advantages to Saccos version of jour-
nalism. As he is interested in daily life under the most terrible circumstances,
he can visually transmit the living conditions as background without having
to use excessive descriptions. A photo of the not particularly exciting street
scene as represented on page 77 would probably never get printed, but as a
panel in a visual narrative it serves its purpose and certainly saves the prover-
bial thousand words.
This level of general personal observation is nevertheless still in accor-
dance with usual journalistic reports or documentaries. A different approach
to the visualization of Saccos experiences in an unfamiliar environment can
be found when his own face recurs over and over again and the thoughts are
fragmented into isolated banners adding to the sense of alienation and also
fear.
Then there are the encounters and meetings with the people Sacco talks
to or interviews. Hospitality is a recurring topic even though the hosts are
destitute and have little to offer. But the personal observation of the journal-
ist, who for some time lived in Palestine and Bosnia, are only part of this
approach, and Sacco also offers visual accounts of the stories and experiences
of the people he interviews. The artistic form of the comic now no longer
replaces other readily available forms of visualization after all, his own obser-
vations and the meetings could easily have been presented in the form of a
photo novel. But the stories he is told stories of daily oppression, of cru-
Left: A street scene in Palestine (Joe Sacco, Palestine. 2007 Fantagraphics Books).
Right: Joe Saccos face recurs over and over again (Joe Sacco, Palestine. 2007 Fan-
tagraphics Books).
elty, torture, war crimes, massacres and the suffering endured in conse-
quence have, of course, not been recorded or lmed, as documentation is
hardly in the interest of those who commit atrocities. (At least so we thought
before we learned from the pictures of Abu Ghraib that the torturers love
their work so much that they take their own pictures and exchange these
tokens of fond memories with like-minded colleagues or send them home to
their loved ones.) Be that as it may, Sacco tries not only to give a voice to the
unheard, but also to provide images of the unseen, based on the narrations
of those who have lived through the experience. In an increasingly visual cul-
ture he tells stories that would otherwise be lost like the tale told by a Bos-
nian girl.
Moreover, in Bosnia Sacco also talked to the men who took part in the
ghting and who witnessed or even committed atrocities, and these stories
are also presented in visual form. The stories themselves are shocking and once
more the visual impact plays an important role. In addition they occasion-
Part of a tale told by a Bosnian girl (Joe Sacco, Safe Area Gorade. 2007 Fanta-
graphics Books).
ally clash with the image of the specic narrators men Sacco met and talked
to in bars and cafs and thus the tales become slightly unreal while their
terrifying reality is not in question. This was one important aspect in New
Journalism and it is certainly also artfully employed here.
Another important aspect is the actual portrayal of the people Sacco
talks to, but also those he just encounters on the streets or even in mass-
scenes. Sacco himself points out that: each face is individualized and that
was important to me. I didnt want to show a mass of people in the sense that
they all look like a bunch of ants or something. To me, theyre all individu-
als who have suffered enormously, and even though none of those faces might
be true to any particular individual, the point, I think, is coming across. The
essential truth, as I said, comes across (Sacco Presentation from 2002 UF
Comics Conference).
However, there is, as you may have already noticed, an exception: his
own face is exempt from this rule, as he is almost always strongly cartoon-
A visual representation of atrocities in the Bosnian war (Joe Sacco, The Fixer. 2007
Drawn and Quarterly).
Left: A photograph of Joe Sacco ( Joe

Sacco, Palestine. 2007 Fantagraphics
Books). Right: Joe Sacco as a comic gure
(Joe Sacco, Palestine 2007 Fantagraph-
ics Books).
ized and thus in stark contrast with the

other faces in the panels. This differ-
ence probably serves various purposes.
On the one hand he is the stranger in
the environment he depicts and certainly feels to be an outsider who has not
suffered with the people he encounters and interviews. This displacement is
emphasized, but the hierarchy often noticeable in documentaries and
reports that is, the journalist is better dressed, controls the situation by ask-
ing the questions, directs the gaze and is thus coded as empowered is turned
on its head. Sacco appears frequently as a little ridiculous; he misunderstands
situations and occasionally does not get a joke that others share, and the car-
toonish image stresses this aspect. Moreover, it is his perspective that is pre-
sented, and as Scott McCloud has pointed out, a cartoonish iconicity increases
the potential for audience identication (cf. McCloud 4243).
And then there is possibly one more aspect to his self-portrayal, but this
is chiey speculation. There is another comics gure that the drawn Sacco
resembles: Monsieur Acquefacques, the prisoner of dreams in the claustro-
phobic works of Marc-Antoine Mathieu (cf. Mathieu, passim). This resem-
blance possibly emphasizes the dystopian character of the world Sacco depicts;
reality matches or surpasses the horrors we can imagine in our darkest dreams
and nightmares.
To sum up: comics journalism offers possibilities that traditional jour-
nalism cannot pursue. It makes use of subjective perspectives, visual meta-
phorization, ctionalization and artistic distortions of reality in its quest for
an essential truth that

cannot always be suc-
cessfully transmitted by
a neutral and seemingly
detached form. In doing
this, comics journalism
questions the claim of
authenticity and truth-
fulness of photographic
representation and thus
suggests a necessary re-
conceptualization that
also plays a role in post-
modern theory of repre-
sentation. In addition, it
visually addresses aspects
of reality that are not
accessible to traditional
journalism. An impor-
An individualized face ( Joe Sacco, Palestine. 2007 tant aspect is the inher-
Fantagraphics Books). ent subjectivity of the
artistic form, and here
comics journalism ties in with recent theories about the relevance of rst-per-
son narratives even in scientic contexts trauma research, psychiatry, neu-
rophysiology, etc.
However, in its focus on the visual form, comics journalism also has its
problems. It is less capable of complex argument and thus tends to reduce the
complexity of the world it depicts. In consequence, it ultimately cannot replace
the written word and we might want to keep in mind that one of the rst
statements about comics journalism stems from a time before comics jour-
nalism was invented: In the movie Fahrenheit 451, the protagonist, Montag,
is reading a comic-newspaper in bed. In the dystopian society, all newspapers
and journals are published in comics form, as each and every form of writ-
ten text is banned. The rapid advancement of visual culture may well bring
its own brand of problems, and there can be just too much of a good thing.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Burgdorf, Paul. Comics im Unterricht. Weinheim and Basel: Beltz, 1976.
Cheesman, Tom. The Shocking Ballad Picture Show: German Popular Literature and Cultural
History. Oxford and Providence: Berg, 1994.
Emsley, Clive. Introduction. The Newgate Calendar. Ware, Herfordshire: Wordsworth Edi-
tions, 1997, IXXVI.
Hegerfeldt, Anne. Lies That Tell the Truth. Magic Realism Seen Through Contemporary Fic-
tion from Britain. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2005.
Hollowell, John. Fact and Fiction: The New Journalism and the Non-Fiction Novel. Chapel
Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. 1977.
Mathieu, Marc-Antoine. Der Ursprung (Lorigine [1991]). Berlin: Reprodukt, 2003.
McCloud, Scott, Understanding Comics. New York: HarperPerennial, 1994.
Pett, David J. Drawn in. Ryerson Review of Journalism. 23 October 2005. http://www.rrj.
ca/online/585 (27 April 2007).
Sacco, Joe. The Fixer. Quebec: Drawn and Quarterly, 2003.
_____. Palestine. Seattle, WA: Fantagraphics Books, 2001.
_____. Presentation from 2002 UF Comics Conference. ImageTexT: Interdisciplinary Comics
Studies 1.1 (2004). Dept of English, University of Florida. http://www.english.u.edu/image
text/archives/v1_1/sacco (17 April 2007).
_____. Safe Area Gorade. Seattle, WA: Fantagraphics Books, 2000.
Silbermann, Alphons. The Way Toward Visual Culture: Comics and Comic Films. Comics
and Visual Culture, edited by Alphons Silbermann and H.-D. Dyroff. Mnchen et al.: K.G.
Saur, 1986, 11 17.
Skeaping, Lucy, The English Broadside Ballad. Street songs of the 17th century. http://
www.lucieskeaping.co.uk/lecture.htm (27 April 2007).
Spiegelman, Art. In The Shadow of No Towers. New York: Pantheon, 2004.
Swanson, Don. R. Toward a Psychology of Metaphor, On Metaphor, edited by Sheldon
Sacks. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1978, 161 64.
Versemnieks, Inara. Drawn to the Truth. The Oregonian, 23 October 2005. http://www.
drawnandquarterly.com/newsList.php?item=a435e77e531eb5 (17 April 2007).
Williams, Kristian. The Case for Comics Journalism. Columbia Journalism Review March/
April 2005. http://www.cjr.org/issues/2005/2/ideas-essay-williams.asp (27 April 2007).
Zimmermann, Hans-Dieter. Comic strips, ihre Geschichte und ihre Kritik. Comics im
sthetischen Unterricht, edited by Dietger Pforte. Frankfurt/M.: Fischer Athenum, 1974,
24876.
INTERNATIONAL
7
The Carrefour of Practice:
Qubec BD in Transition
Michel Hardy-Valle
In the pantheon of annoying questions, besides the crowned champion

What is art? we should probably consider What is literature? as the Sec-
ond Most Annoying Question (SMAQ). But being annoying does not nec-
essarily render it worthless. We live in an age where the pronouncement that
comics can be a form of literature surprises few, but solid arguments to this
effect are rare. Perhaps that is because the concept of literature itself is a slip-
pery one, yet difculty cannot be an excuse for not addressing a question. I
propose here to look at the work of a Qubec author whose graphic novels
are gaining solid recognition as literary works, and explain how they are lit-
erature rst by taking a position on what literature is, and second by show-
ing why they are considered literature, and not as something else.
For the last 20 years, both academic and popular publications have
repeated in chorus that comics can deal with so-called serious issues and
topics: history instead of fantasy; intimacy instead of adventure; real war
instead of intergalactic super-conicts between the imperial armies of trans-
dimensional eternal beings. It is a starting assumption of Joseph Witeks Comic
Books as History, for example:
A critical analysis of the comic-book form is especially necessary now, when a

growing number of contemporary American comic books are being written as
literature aimed at a general readership of adults and concerned, not with the
traditionally escapist themes of comics, but with issues such as the clash of cul-
tures in American history, the burdens of guilt and suffering passed on within
families, and the trials and small triumphs of the daily workaday world [Witek
3].
85
86 COMICS AS A NEXUS OF CULTURESINTERNATIONAL
What Witek refers to as theme, I would rather call topic: the clash of cul-
tures in American history is a topic that can be treated to embody the vari-
ous themes of betrayal, religious uncertainty, or lial love. Witeks position
that content determines, in a certain manner, literariness is cognate to the
one developed here, but I must stress that Witeks argument implies that the
recurring topoi of superhero comics cannot be part of a literary work. More-
over, his position also implies that an adult audience is a necessary condition
for literary comics. The mere existence of literary works dedicated to an audi-
ence of children, like Alice in Wonderland or Huckleberry Finn, should be
proof enough that literature need not be essentially aimed at a general read-
ership of adults. As to the question of what constitutes a literary topic, my
position is broader, and does not prevent a priori the story of the rise and fall
of the Zurglub Empire to be a candidate for literariness.
Turning away from the content of the work and focusing on cultural cir-
cumstances, Charles Hateld argues in Alternative Comics: An Emerging Lit-
erature that the Pulitzer prize given to Maus served to ratify comic art as a
literary form; the reception of Maus suddenly made serious comics culturally
legible, recognizable in a way they had not been before (xi). Hateld does
not imply that winning a special Pulitzer suddenly transformed Maus from
nonliterary to literary work, but this institutional recognition underlines a lit-
erary aspect, without explaining it.
Hateld leaves unanswered the Second Most Annoying Question and cre-
ates the following question-begging logic: literary prizes can only be given,
by denition, to literary work. If Maus has won a literary prize, then it must
have been a literary work in the rst place. Clearly, a little work on the SMAQ
is necessary. However, he does argue why comics can be literature and not
something else by presenting them as an art of reading and writing: These
are images that stay, unlike the successive moments in a lm or video as it is
being viewed. In that sense, the images in comics read more like printed words
or characters (Hateld 33). At best, Hateld suggests that the medium of
comics functions like the medium of literature, taken to be printed text, and
that this similarity in medium is enough to understand Maus through a lit-
erary lens, as evidenced by its institutional recognition.
Regrettably, although it gestures toward the social norm of dening lit-
erature, Hatelds position brings us back to a denition of literature as a prop-
erty of texts, a special mode of using a medium language like the
Formalists and the Structuralists did. The basic problem with a denition of
literature as a special mode of language is that it fails to account for the
moments at which so-called literary language is indistinguishable from ordi-
nary language, and forces us to consider pictures as linguistic tokens in order
for comics to be literary. The alternative way I want to consider now is to
7. The Carrefour of Practice (Hardy-Valle) 87
understand literature rst as a human activity, not as a property of texts. In

contradistinction to Hatelds argument, this human activity is constitutive
rather than indicative of literature.
In Truth, Fiction, and Literature, Peter Lamarque and Stein Haugom
Olsen argue that literature is a practice of production and appreciation of texts
shared between writers and readers, and that no textual features a priori dis-
tinguish literary works from nonliterary ones.
A text is identied as a literary work by recognizing the authors intention that
the text is produced and meant to be read within the framework of conventions
dening the practice (constituting the institution) of literature[...]. Adopting the
literary stance towards a text is to identify it as a literary work and apprehend it
in accordance with the conventions of the literary practice. The mode of appre-
hension which the practice denes is one of appreciation. The literary stance is
dened by the expectation of (and consequently the attempt to identify) a cer-
tain type of value, i.e. literary aesthetic value, in the text in question [256].
This denition shifts the locus of literariness from the text to the work.
The notion of work is here derived from the one developed by Gregory
Currie: the text is a sequence of words in a natural language (cf. Currie 335),
but the work is the actual act of its composition (cf. Currie 336). Without
the notion of work, it would be impossible to account for certain aesthetic
features like irony, for instance. A sequence of words can be understood lit-
erally or ironically, but only if we interpret it in conjunction with some aware-
ness of the way in which it was produced.
The concepts that identify the literary features of a work exist at three
levels for Lamarque and Olsen: form, content, and theme. At the formal level,
understanding a literary work demands an ability to decode its internal organ-
ization (cf. Lamarque and Olsen 258). To understand Paradise Lost, it is nec-
essary that I have a basic grasp of the epic form, and of blank verse meter. At
the content level, one must be able to identify the subject of a work. Describ-
ing the subject of a work essentially taps into the readers ability to apply
everyday life concepts to the world of the novel, such as characters, actions,
objects, or settings (cf. Lamarque and Olsen 259). Baudelaires poem Spleen
is about a psychological state, not about the various items of spiders, cofns,
and craniums, which serve as metaphors. Finally, the literary signature of a
work and what makes it valuable is our construction of the subject under a
perspective as the bearer of a theme. A theme is an organizing principle that
seeks coherence both among diffuse elements of a works subject and in the
imaginative interest aroused by the work (Lamarque 370). Dubliners shows
us how an intellectually sclerosed society thwarts its individual members
ambitions, and how the minutest actions can in fact perpetuate this sclero-
sis. The internal organization of a work along the lines of form, content, and
theme make it suitable for literature, as a practice of production and appre-

ciation.
The logic of literary evaluation relies on two contracts between author
and reader. First is the creative-imaginative convention: the expectation that
a work of literature is a product of imagination, of invention (cf. Lamarque
and Olsen 262). This is not to say that literature must be ctional: the retelling
of a true story satises the creative-imaginative convention for example
through the imposition of a form over subject, in the treatment the author
gives to it. The creative-imaginative convention is an expectation of subject
and form in a literary work, one that results from the work of an author. In
this sense, we expect the author to perform a work in a medium, to metaphor-
ically carve something beautiful or interesting out of a block of stone. Sec-
ond, literature carries the expectation that a work is relevant to a human being,
instead of fullling a purpose better suited to the study of arctic seals or the
construction of a Martian spaceship. This expectation is the mimetic conven-
tion, that is, the presentation of concerns of interest to humans through either
theme or subject choice (cf. Lamarque and Olsen 266). It is thus not by virtue
of being good that a work is considered literary: it is by functioning within
a specic logic of valuation that it is. Comics may be candidates for literari-
ness not because they have abandoned the stigmatized genres, but because
they can function within the practice of literature.
But why should comics be literature and not simply another form of art
like painting, sculpting, or music? Precisely because they were devalued as lit-
erature since their earliest days, especially in the United States, but also in
Europe, though with less venom against the publishing industry. Around the
turn of the 20th century, traditionalist literary critics in the United States dis-
missed illustrations in general as a hindrance to the acquisition of a genteel,
literate culture. For instance, in the June 1895 edition of Lippincotts Monthly
Magazine, Sidney Faireld opposed strongly the illustration of novels: The
written word is the rst and the highest expression of thought, and it ever
will be. To illustrate the perfect literary production does not necessarily
improve it artistically[...]. [I]s not the literary art of a master amply sufcient
to portray to the appreciative, intelligent reader all in his book that is charm-
ing or thrilling or pathetic or humorous? (56). In the Dial of November 1,
1903, Annie Russell Marble warned readers: To cultivate individual ideas, to
educe subjective interpretations of life and letters, is the desideratum of all
education; such results are often hindered by excess of scenic material (8).
And the most infamous of comics critics, Fredric Wertham himself, stressed
the idea that the comic-book format is an invitation to illiteracy (118). The
irony of this devaluation is that literature was then identied with literacy in
the minds of the critics. The proper response against the above criticisms
should not have been to create more literary comics, but more literate comics.
Such an equation between literature and literacy persists to this day, for
instance in Charles Hatelds argument for comics as a different type of lit-
eracy.
Literary devaluation of comics as it was practiced in the United States
did not happen to the same extent in Qubec, yet this province has con-
tributed some major milestones to the history of literary comics in the recent
years. For the history of comics, Qubec represents a certain singularity.
Unlike English-language comics in Canada, French-language comics have
had some opportunities to avoid the summersault of the American comics
industry. This culture of independence eventually beneted to, and from,
their English-language counterparts, creating in the current times a small but
inuential haven for comics outside the mainstreams.
Since the 19th century, there had been many locally created illustrated
stories, wordless pantomimes and similar works in the style of Wilhelm Busch
in Canadian newspapers. However, the arrival of the syndicated comic strips
coming from the United States between 1910 and 1940 eventually ooded the
pages of local newspapers at rates more advantageous for the editors than the
local production (cf. Falardeau 32). During the World War II years, trade bar-
riers and protectionist legislation helped the francophone and anglophone
local markets to thrive independently of foreign competition for a while (cf.
Canada n.p.), but the rebooted economy of the 1950s erased many of these
trade barriers, and the Canadian market was once again ooded with Amer-
ican productions.
All of Canada is occupied by American comics.
All? Not quite!
A province inhabited by indomitable Gauls is holding out....
In fact, the strong Catholic Church in the province of Qubec spurred
after World War II the creation of bande dessine (BD) periodicals targeted at
the youth market (cf. Canada n.p.). Whereas Anglophone Canada then lost
many of its creators like Joe Shuster (Superman), Harold Foster (Prince
Valiant), or Edmond Good (Red Ryder) to the American industry, the Amer-
ican hegemony has had the reverse effect to strengthen the local Qubec pro-
duction. Eventually, the European hegemony of Spirou and Tintin periodicals
also displaced many local comics, but stories of Qubec exiles to Belgium or
France are actually rare, while European authors have been at times very keen
on gesturing toward their transAtlantic fellow authors. Nevertheless, the
remaining independent productions suffer from lack of long-term stability.
Equally unstable, but ultimately inuential, the underground movement
provided the seeds of daring production, and sprouted across Canada in both
languages. If most publications of the 1970s did not ourish past a dozen issues
(Falardeau 61), one succeeded tremendously in the 1980s: Croc (fangs). Pro-
pelled by the creators of the 1970s, renewed constantly by the inux of new
authors, Croc is perhaps as close to an institution of BD that Qubec ever
had. A satirical magazine in the vein of Mad, Hara-Kiri, National Lampoon,
and countless others, Croc supported and established more BD writers than
any other magazine (Falardeau 70). It was also a laboratory of writers, many
of which are still prominent in varieties, theatre, cinema, television, and
media. Yet in a pathetic recurrence of history, Croc blipped off the radar screen
in 1995, after publishing their 189th issue, ironically a special anniversary
issue celebrating their 15 years of existence.
In parallel to the Qubec underground movement, a new scene based in
Toronto sprouted during the early 1980s, and artists like Chester Brown or
Seth started to consolidate an alternative market of idiosyncratic, innovative
comics, in explicit rupture from the Marvel/DC superhero productions from
the United States. This movement converged eventually toward Montral in
the 1990s, creating a new bilingual scene in cities like Montral, and fostered
artists like Julie Doucet, Rick Trembles, Henriette Valium, Richard Suicide,
but also publishing houses like Drawn+Quarterly or La Pastque, who are
now the two epicenters of anglophone and francophone graphic novel pub-
lication in Canada, with authors like Michel Rabagliati, Chris Ware, Chester
Brown, Joe Matt, Seth, Julie Doucet, Adrian Tomine, Charles Burns, Guy
Delisle, Dylan Horrocks, Jason Lutes, Joe Sacco, and Croc authors such as
Pierre Fournier and Ral Godbout. Together, these two publishing houses
integrate 30 years of alternative production across the cultural landscape of
North America (some authors are published in translation at the two houses).
Of all the movements to inuence Qubec comics, the literary status-
laden graphic novel is one the francophone authors little considered until
recently. In a large francophone chain library the BD section is still occupied
in majority by the franco-belgian albums self-contained stories of recurring
realistic heroes punctuated by translations of mangas and Marvel/DC comic
books. Yet it is also in this medium that Michel Rabagliati achieved literary
ambitions, got published in book form right away, and is gathering recogni-
tion as a prominent author.
Rabagliati is a relative newcomer in the world of comics. His rst book,
Paul la campagne, was created on a whim, and published in 1999 by La
Pastque. Prior to this book, he was a professional illustrator, and has had
little to no involvement in the world of comics. He never created a fanzine,
inked for Marvel, lettered for DC, nor did he run a periodical like Daniel
Clowess Eightball or Adrian Tomines Optic Nerve. Equally singular is the fact
that his work is culturally bivalent: for an anglophone, Paul reads as a graphic
novel, but for a francophone it reads as a European album.
Pauls imitation of Belgian bandes dessine characters Gaston Lagaffe and Spirou
(Michel Rabagliati, Paul in the Metro. 2003 Drawn & Quarterly).
If Michel Rabagliati reads as a heir to the graphic novel movement for

many in the English translation, it is in part because his contact with authors
like Chester Brown, Seth, Joe Matt, or Chris Ware. They spurred the interest
of this graphic designer to revisit the medium he had so far only associated
with the Franco-Belgian BD of his youth, and to write in the autobiograph-
ical mode. In the Edmonton Journal of 29 December 2005, reviewer Gilbert
Bouchard writes: Michel Rabagliati continues to produce work that does
great justice to Canadas rich graphic novel tradition of sensitive autobio-
graphical work produced in a Europeanesque clean-line cartooning style
(C2). If he reads for a francophone audience as heir to Herg or Franquin, it
is not only because of his explicit reference to these authors, but also because
he uses, so far, the format of a recurring character across self-contained works,
like the European albums do. However, unlike the serials of Spirou and Tintin
magazines, the Paul series saw no pre-publication in magazine form before
its book publication. The direct-to-book approach is also coherent with the
auteur approach of the graphic novel movement, which tends to emphasize
a continuous approach to story reading, by the creation of thematically united
works (Sabin 238).
The irony of graphic novels in Qubec is that this most transAtlantic
of form the product of a back-and-forth exchange of attitudes toward the
comics medium between the Europeans and the Americans never sprouted
natively in the province whose comics market was ooded by these very same
superpowers. The appearance of this form in Qubec comes again from exter-
nal inuence, mostly the result of Toronto-based artists moving toward Mon-
tral. The graphic novel is a borrowed form in Qubec, but one that now
owers, because it integrates the cultural background of the two major lin-
guistic groups, and thereby resolves perhaps certain cultural tensions.
Rabagliati could be a symptom that the debate over the value of comics has
settled enough in Qubec to open a market for creators who already take for
granted the idea that comics can be literary, and who did not take part ear-
lier on in the debate itself.
In Rabagliatis graphic novels, broad concerns about artistic value embed-
ded in the story help to understand the literary approach sub-tending the pro-
duction and intended appreciation of his works. Paul Has a Summer Job? tells
in the autobiographical mode the story of Paul, the authors alter ego, who
has a job in a holiday camp in the Laurentians during the summer of 1979,
after he dropped out of high school. A quiet and somewhat disgruntled sub-
urban kid, Paul confronts for the rst time autonomy and responsibilities, the
classic Bildungsroman trajectory leading the teenager toward adulthood. In
one scene, Paul plays before his work buddies the music of Georges Brassens,
a popular French singer-songwriter, known for his clever and saucy compo-
sitions. He excuses himself from being out of fashion with the yys, the
British Invasioninspired French light pop in vogue after the mid1960s, but
after a few chords, he hooks his audience, and engages them in chorus singing.
His closing remarks about the scene express his initial doubts regarding
Brassenss value but also comment on the unexpected success he reaps, which
he grants to the artists timeless and universal quality.
These words echo the notion of literary value as a value shared by the
people who participate in the practice of production and appreciation.
Although the audience is confronted with a work they are unfamiliar with,
they ultimately identify its value because they understand how it functions,
how to appreciate it, and how it is meant to be understood. A similar process
operates with Rabagliatis work, written in a medium that many people still
An impromptu campre song from Georges Brassens (Michel Rabagliati, Paul Has
a Summer Job. 2003 Drawn & Quarterly).
associate with whimsy or light topics (in the same manner that saucy songs
are not expected to engage with important themes), but which participates
in the wider concerns of humanity (as Brassenss songs do).
More than a simple nod to a great artist, this scene is understandable at
the formal level through the agency of characters, plot events, narrator, and
the fourth panel functions as a synecdoche for the whole process of singing
accompanied by music. At the topical level, this scene mingles artistic value,
social standing, self-discovery, and friendship. Thematically, it shows through
the device of art how we break out of our sense of solitude to form emotional
bonds with others, as evidenced by the nal, collective word-balloon.
Emblematic of a generation of francophone Quebecers, this scene also shows
how foreign artistic production serves as a focus of identity, a buoy for com-
munication between the young.
Beyond the fact that this scene functions in a literary manner, it depends
on formal devices that are not part of literatures heritage: the rst and last
panel answer to each other by showing visually confusion and union. The
superimposed harangues of the eager audience in the rst panel become the
harmonized chorus singing of the last panel, and whereas it is possible to
explain this transformation in purely linguistic terms, it is here made visible.
But does it detract from literary appreciation? My answer is no: if literature
functions as an institution, as a contract between artists and audiences, it can
be extended by new formal devices when the latter function in tandem with
the existing practice. The emotional, or cognitive impact of a picture differs
widely from that of the word, but it can nevertheless be made to serve theme,
character development, or a synecdoche.
The process of discovery and inuence is a recurring theme between the
different Paul stories. In an equally poignant and graphic scene of Paul Moves
Out, after a passionate evening of discussion, wine drinking, smoking and
music with friends, Paul returns home with his girlfriend, Lucie, to learn that
his aunt has just died. The ecstasy of discovery clashes with the emotional
maturation of life experience, and the parallelism of the two processes sug-
gests that they are perhaps both faces of the same coin. The nal close-up on
the face of Paul is brought toward another close-up on the Congolese mask
his aunt gave him at his last visit to her, creating a similar parallelism. In the
end emotional maturation leaves the strongest impression; the imaginative
vision provides a sense of meaning and appeasement to Paul. Here, the for-
mal devices come from both the comics and cinematic traditions, but they
function as well within the orb of literary value, of theme and topic.
If Michel Rabagliatis work insists so strongly on the importance of peren-
nial themes, and of storytelling, it is probably because he only came to the
world of comics with the intention of telling stories rst. From his own admis-
sion, in an interview with him I am hoping to publish this year, he read
comics abundantly as a kid and a young man, but never had any interest in
working in the industry, nor does he care much for its history and conicts.
As a commercial illustrator, he saw instead both the opportunity to return to
pen and paper, away from the computer, and the opportunity to create in a
Left: Paul and Lucie, after an entertaining evening... Right: ...learn about the death
of Pauls aunt (both by Michel Rabagliati, Paul Moves Out. 2005 Drawn & Quar-
terly).
literary manner out of his own graphic skills. His work pays nods here and
there to authors that he admires, or borrowed from, but these concerns are
not fundamental to the stories themselves. Case in point are the two versions,
French and English, of his rst encounter with Lucie. In the original French,
she drops a running gag from Marcel Gotlibs Rubrique--brac, which piques
his curiosity. Later in the day, Paul re-reads Gotlibs work and wonders if he
can further the connection with Lucie. In the translated English version, Lucie
borrows lines from Harvey Kurtzmans Krazy Kat, to the same effect on Paul.
However, when he later wonders if Lucie knows about Gotlib, his gesture now
takes the meaning of crossing a cultural line: does the American comics fan
girl know about this great French comics author?
Once the old cultural barriers have been crossed in Canada, once it does
not matter whether you like Krazy Kat or Gotlib, your art is not weighed down
by tradition, established formats, and you can make what you want of a rich
medium. Literature is not the nal destination of comics, nor should it be.
Graphic novels stretch the existing canvas of literature, but they do not have
to be a department of it either. This is not a bad thing: the graphic novel can
A few nal words of wisdom from the aunt (Michel Rabagliati, Paul Moves Out 2005
Drawn & Quarterly).
have a literary value, and as academics we do not have to pull our hair won-
dering about an either/or situation because of the visual medium. We do not
have to invent visual literacy, stick to a universal theory of signs, or regress
to an ideographic myth to understand why comics can be literary. If litera-
ture is a way of appreciating and creating, it demands from those who wish
to participate in it a certain distance from their previous agendas; crossing
cultural lines is thus perhaps one important step to take to foster literary
comics.
Left: Bandes dessines as a pickup line. Right: Comics as a pickup line. Below: Plans
to follow up on a pickup line, and to cross cultural boundaries (all by Michel
Rabagliati, Paul Moves Out. 2005 Drawn & Quarterly).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Canada, Library and Archives. Beyond the Funnies: The History of Comics in English
Canada and Quebec. Website created 24 June 2002. http://www.collectionscanada.ca/
comics/index-e.html (30 March 2007).
Currie, Gregory. Work and Text. Mind 100.3 (1991): 32540.
Faireld, Sidney. The Tyranny of the Pictorial. Arguing Comics: Literary Masters on a Pop-
ular Medium, edited by Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester. Jackson: University Press of Mis-
sissippi, 2004, 46.
Falardeau, Mira. La bande dessine au Qubec. Collection Boral Express 9. Montral: Boral,
1994.
Hateld, Charles. Alternative Comics: An Emerging Literature. Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi, 2005.
Lamarque, Peter. Cognitive Values in the Arts: Marking the Boundaries. Contemporary
Debates in Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art, edited by Matthew Kieran. Malden, MA:
Blackwell, 2006, 370.
_____ and Stein Haugom Olsen. Truth, Fiction, and Literature: A Philosophical Perspective.
Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1994.
Marble, Annie Russell. The Reign of the Spectacular. Arguing Comics: Literary Masters on
a Popular Medium, edited by Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester. Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi, 2004, 78.
Rabagliati, Michel. Paul en appartement. Montral: Les ditions de la Pastque, 2004.
_____. Paul has a Summer Job. Trans. Helge Dascher. Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 2003.
_____. Paul in the Metro. Trans. Helge Dascher. Drawn & Quarterly, edited by Chris
Oliveros. Vol. 5. Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 2003, 7690.
_____. Paul Moves Out. Trans. Helge Dascher. Montreal: Drawn & Quarterly, 2005.
Sabin, Roger. Adult Comics: An Introduction. London and New York: Routledge, 1993.
Wertham, Fredric. Seduction of the Innocent. New York: Rinehart, 1954.
Witek, Joseph. Comic Books as History: The Narrative Art of Jack Jackson, Art Spiegelman,
and Harvey Pekar. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1989.
8
The Use of Allusion in Apitz
and Kunkels Karl Comics
Sandra Martina Schwab
In 1985/86, the publishing house Apitz and Kunkel was founded as a

small private venture by two enthusiastic young men, Michael Apitz and
Patrick Kunkel. The rst publication, a collection of satirical poems by Kun-
kels father, Eberhard Kunkel, followed in spring 1986 (Apitz and Kunkel,
Alles Karl! 13). But what Michael Apitz and Patrick Kunkel actually wanted
to publish was comics. Furthermore, they wanted to prove that, contrary to
what is still common belief in Germany, comic books are not publications
only for children or people who cannot read properly (42). What Michael
Apitz and Patrick Kunkel were still missing, though, was a story, and so they
asked Eberhard Kunkel to write something for them that could be turned into
a comic (1617). The result of this collaboration was released in 1988 under
the title Karl: Der Sptlesereiter. The book deals with the discovery of the
qualities of late vintage wine in the Rheingau area in 1775. In that particu-
lar year, the grapes of Schlo Johannisberg were harvested late due to the
delay of the courier bringing the permission of the Bishop of Fulda to start
the harvest. So by the time he nally arrived, noble rot had already set in.
Even though the monks thought the grapes must surely be ruined, they still
picked them and pressed them, and much to their surprise, the resulting wine
was of a quality unheard of before (Apitz and Kunkel, Sptlesereiter 47). Today,
a statue in the courtyard of the abbey of Johannisberg commemorates this
event, yet nothing is really known about the delayed messenger and why he
was so late. Eberhard Kunkel decided to ll this historical void by inventing
a tale about this man, whom he called Karl (Apitz and Kunkel, Alles Karl!
1819).
Ever since the publication of Der Sptlesereiter, the stories about Karl
99
all set in late-18th-century Germany have enjoyed an immense success,

which even resulted in spin-off wine books and mystery novels. The popu-
larity of Apitz and Kunkels comics might partly be explained by the local
setting and themes, but their particular brand of humor also plays a decisive
role. Much of this humor stems from the numerous allusions, many of them
intertextual and intermedial references, that are woven into the text and the
pictures. In the following, I will deal with the means the authors and the illus-
trator employ to establish these allusions and how they use them within the
context of their stories.
Already in the choice of settings Apitz and Kunkels style of humor becomes
apparent. The Karl books have been called regional comics (Apitz and
Kunkel, Alles Karl! 60) as large parts are set in the Rheingau area, where the
authors and the illustrator hail from. However, the story also moves to other
parts of Germany, to cities like Frankfurt or Karlsruhe, and also to other parts
of Europe, such as England or France. To establish historical settings, Apitz,
the illustrator, often models panels on old engravings (Apitz and Kunkel,
Alles Karl! 25), for example, a view of Cologne in Der Fall Loreley (5) and
one of Speyer in Lord am Rhein (23). Typically, Apitz depicts the character-
istic skyline of churches in order to enable the reader to recognize a specic
town or city and thus to identify the setting for a particular scene. Hence,
when Karl and his sidekick, Oskar, arrive in Paris, the reader is presented with
a view of Notre Dame (Paris 37). However, we nd this particular panel only
toward the end of the book in question, and this is not how the city is intro-
duced at the beginning of the story. There, Apitz uses an image of Montmartre,
complete with several windmills as well as a cabaret in a red mill the Moulin
Rouge. And thus we leave the historical reality behind and enter what I call
historicized modern reality, for the Moulin Rouge did not yet exist in 1794
and Montmartre was still a green hill outside the city with vineyards, gardens
and a few windmills (see Paris 47). This blending of historical setting and
modernity recurs in the characterizations of other towns and areas, for exam-
ple in a picture of London (Lord 5), which does not only show the Tower,
but, with the inclusion of caricatures of Boris Becker and Bjrn Borg, also
contains an anachronistic reference to the famous tennis tournament in Wim-
bledon. To an even greater extent, Apitz employs this technique when it comes
to German settings, especially to the cities of Mainz and Frankfurt.
Frankfurt is famous for its cathedral, in which the German Kaiser used
to be crowned, for its town hall (the Rmer), and for Goethe. All this cor-
rectly belong to the late-18th-century setting of the Karl comics. Yet the books
also feature historicized transformations of modern Frankfurt. The interna-
tional airport is represented by the take-off and arrival of different birds
(Sptlesereiter 15 and Krnung 26). This includes a big American (Apitz and
8. The Use of Allusion in Apitz and Kunkels Karl Comics (Schwab) 101
Kunkel, Krnung 26), a bald eagle that serves as a reference to Boings Jumbo
Jets and Frankfurts role as a major hub for transatlantic ights. A wayside
cross in the same panel alludes to the Frankfurt motorway intersection (the
literal translation of the German term Autobahnkreuz is motorway cross).
The skyscrapers that today dominate the skyline that has earned Franfurt am
Main the nickname Mainhattan are depicted in the comic as multistory,
half-timbered houses (Sptlesereiter 15). Squirrels busily exchanging nuts rep-
resent the stock exchange and (as the German words for bench and bank
are homonyms) an assortment of benches allude to the numerous banking
houses in Frankfurt (Nibelungen 16). In some instances only the combination
of image and text makes the allusion work. For example, the badger balanc-
ing on a lantern in Die Krnung (32) is both a pictorial and a textual pun:
the German stock market index, DAX, is pronounced like the German word
for badger (Dachs).
Apitz and Kunkel use a similar mixture of historically correct and
anachronistic icons to make the city of Mainz recognizable to the readers.
The authors mix the historical cathedral with historicized elements of mod-
ern Mainz, such as the famous Meenzer Fassenacht, the carnival (Italinische
Reise 15), and especially with the large carnival parade on Shrove Monday (Zis-
terzienser 25).
Given the main setting of the series, the Rheingau area, the Karl comics
also feature many panels depicting the famously scenic Upper Middle Rhine
Valley, which the authors and illustrator use to introduce cultural satire by
poking fun at the emerging tourism along that particular stretch of the river.
In the late 18th century British tourists had just discovered the Romantic
Rhine and started to ock to the Upper Middle Rhine Valley with its famous
sights like the Loreley rock or the Mouse Tower of Bingen (see Plummer 28).
During the Napoleonic Wars traveling came more or less to a halt, but imme-
diately afterward the second wave of British tourists arrived on the banks of
Father Rhine (see Kroener n.p.). They became so numerous that in 1839 the
writer Thomas Hood remarked:
It is a statistical fact that since 1814 an unknown number of persons, bearing an
indenite proportion to the gross total of the population of the British empire,
have been more or less abroad.[...] It resembled a geographical panic and of
all the country and branch banks in Christendom, never was there such a run as
on the banks of the Rhine[...]. It was impossible to go into Society without
meeting units, tens, hundreds, thousands of Rhenish tourists[...]. What a don-
key they deemed him who had not been to Assmannshausen what a cockney
who had not seen a Rats Castle besides the one in St. Giless! [24546].
In the depictions of the Rhine tourism in the Karl comics, Apitz and
Kunkel once again blend historical reality and historicized modern reality.
Historically correct, a group of tourists travels along the Rhine on a tradi-

tional boat trailed by a horse but the travel business is given a typical mod-
ern name, Treidel Tours. The company also offers package holidays, which
include a tour guide wearing a (Bavarian) dirndl, thus alluding to todays
clichs about Germans and Germany (Das Boot 67).
Apart from cultural satire, Apitz and Kunkels puns also extend to the
realm of politics, again either within the historical reality or as historicized
modern reality. Thus both Das Boot and Das Fa der Zisterzienser feature pan-
els showing the German Michel. This historical cartoon character stands for
the ostrich-like behavior of the middle classes in the late 18th and especially
in the 19th century, when the frightened burghers did not want to have any-
thing to do with the social and political unrest of the times. That is why the
German Michel is always depicted wearing his nightcap as a sign that he does
not want to be disturbed and would prefer to sleep through times of upheaval.
In Das Boot he thus sits dreaming in his neat front garden next to a garden
gnome (both icons of the German petite-bourgeoisie). The gnome is hold-
ing a mop and a bucket as symbols for the proverbial German obsession with
cleanliness. A sign on the picket fence reads Please dont disturb (25). How-
ever, the historical fact that Germans did indeed get involved in the various
political revolutions of the late 18th and early 19th centuries is indicated in
Das Fa der Zisterzienser, which is set against a revolutionary backdrop and
where Michel in his nightcap nally gets out of bed in order to ght for his
rights (28). As an anachronistic contrast, the band playing at a rural dance
in Der Sptlesereiter consists of the leaders of the German political parties in
1988. In this panel the text adds signicantly to the satire. One of the dancers
wonders why the band always plays horribly out of tune (6).
The panel with the politicians band highlights another feature of Apitz
and Kunkels series, the inclusion of caricatures, a technique borrowed from
Goscinny and Uderzos Asterix. As in the French series, much of the enjoy-
ment of reading the Karl comics derives from spotting the caricatures of politi-
cians and other local, national and international celebrities. They all make
guest appearances in roles that, in one way or another, reect on their role in
real life, for example, in Die Krnung, where the person responsible for the
organization and the budget of the imminent coronation of the new Kaiser
has the features of Ludwig Ehrhard (56), Germanys rst minister of trade
and commerce after World War II and the man usually considered responsi-
ble for the so-called Wirtschaftswunder. Later on in the story, international
celebrities arrive for the coronation, among them Prince Charles and Mad King
Ludwig of Bavaria (Krnung 34). In Lord am Rhein, the volume that deals
most explicitly with British tourism along the Rhine, the members of the
Travelers Club in London all look like famous Englishmen: Charlie Chaplin,
Alfred Hitchcock, Winston Churchill, Roger Moore, and Sir Peter Ustinov
(6). Most of the time, the joke about familiar faces is only between the authors
and the readers while the characters do not notice the anachronistic additions
to their stories. A notable exception is Karls dog Grandpatte in the very rst
volume; when he catches sight of Gutenberg and Kaiser Wilhelm II, who
although they both are rmly connected to the Rheingau area do not belong
in the late 18th century, the dog turns to the reader and comments on the
stupidity of his author and illustrator (Apitz and Kunkel, Sptlesereiter 1415).
In another nice metactional turn, all three contributors to the Karl
books appear in their own comics: As Eberhard Kunkel usually comes up
with ideas for new stories and, as a historian, is responsible for the authen-
ticity of the historical background, he takes on a role of responsibility in the
comic, namely as Pater Anselm, the steward of the abbey of Johannisberg
(Apitz and Kunkel, Alles Karl! 30). Michael Apitz and Patrick Kunkel, by
contrast, appear as themselves in the comics, or rather as their younger
reporter-selves, collecting stories for their student newspaper (see Apitz and
Kunkel, Loreley 910). Their anachronistic appearance and inquisitive behav-
ior frequently get them into trouble in the politically restrictive climate of the
late 18th century.
Another group of people who are consistently featured in the comics as
themselves are authors. The most prominently featured person in the Karl
books is Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, whom Apitz and Kunkel regard as
the literary patron of their series (Apitz and Kunkel, Alles Karl! 54), and who
frequently quotes from his own works (Apitz and Kunkel, Sptlesereiter 2).
Indeed, Apitz and Kunkels Goethe loves citing famous passages from his own
plays, poems, and prose texts, which becomes another ongoing joke of the
series. When Goethe, for example, offers his arm to the female lead charac-
ter, Maria, he uses a now-proverbial quote from Fausts rst meeting with
Gretchen: Mein schnes Frulein darf ich wagen, / meinen Arm und Geleit
ihr anzutragen? (My beautiful young lady, dare I / offer you my arm and
company?). Naturally, Goethe receives the same shattering (and equally
proverbial) reply as Faust: Bin weder Frulein weder schn, kann ungeleitet
zur Tafel gehn. (Im neither a lady nor beautiful, and can go alone to the
table. Sptlesereiter 35).
The Karl comics also recount events from Goethes life. For example,
volume 9 is called Italinische Reise (The Italian Journey) and starts with
descriptions from Goethes travelogue of the same title (56). The accompa-
nying pictures form an ironic contrast by showing these events in an exag-
gerated way and thus acting as a sometimes playful but mostly reverential
parody. Goethes original text and Apitz and Kunkels parody are presented
side by side, and an ironic tension is created between text and image.
Der Fall Loreley introduces the two authors who created the Loreley
myth, Clemens Brentano and Heinrich Heine. Apitz and Kunkel use the
meeting of these two for another metactional comment: Heine...? Arent
you a bit too early? Brentano asks and alludes to the fact that, being born
in 1797, Heine is not really a contemporary of Karl. But, [t]he true poet is
timeless, Heine answers (Apitz and Kunkel, Loreley 32). In the following,
they both quote from their respective poems about the Loreley and even start
an argument about whether it is her beauty or her singing that causes so many
boating accidents on the Rhine, thus highlighting the difference between their
respective poems. At the end of the comic, Brentano and Heine still have not
resolved their quarrel. The last panel shows them swimming in the Rhine at
the foot of the Loreley rock after their boat has crashed. Brentano insists it
has all happened because of Loreleys beauty, while Heine blames her singing:
das hat mit ihrem Singen die Lorelei getan! (44). So the comic ends with
the last line of Heines poem.
In the most recent volume of the series, Das Erbe, the reader then meets
Loreley herself, sitting on her rock and in turn quoting the beginning of
Heines poem. Not only do the lines from Heines version t the context of
Apitz and Kunkels story more neatly than Brentanos, but Heines text is also
the poem that readers are more likely to recognize. After Friedrich Silcher com-
posed a tune for it in 1838, it has become far more famous than the older
poem by Brentano.
Literary characters that appear in the Apitz and Kunkel comics include
Hagen (the antagonist of Siegfried in Das Nibelungenlied), who here acciden-
tally drops the Rhinegold onto the head of Father Rhine, who is not amused
(Apitz and Kunkel, Nibelungen 5). Hauke Haien from Theodor Storms novella
Der Schimmelreiter also appears and takes part in a horse race, during which
his horse rst turns into a skeleton and then disappears (Apitz and Kunkel,
Sptlesereiter 911). Conan Doyles Sherlock Holmes plays a role in Lord am
Rhein and alludes to The Adventure of the Speckled Bands (Lord 6). Finally,
Heinrich Hoffmanns infamous Struwwelpeter also has a guest appearance
(Krnung 5).
The reference to the characters from Hoffmanns childrens book is not
just an example of a literary character simply taking part in the Karl stories,
but also an instance of pictorial quotation and parody. The naughty, unkempt
boy standing on the rim of a fountain mimics the gure on the cover of Hoff-
manns book. In addition, Apitz has included another character from Der
Struwwelpeter, Flying Robert, in the same panel. Other examples of pictorial
parody include two versions of Tischbeins famous portrait of Goethe in Italy,
one with the historicized skyline of Frankfurt in the background instead of
the Italian landscape of the Campagna (Sptlesereiter 15), and another with
Karl as Goethe on the cover of Italinische Reise. In Das Fa der Zisterzienser

Karl meets a strangely pale, muscular young man in a tness center: Michelan-
gelos David. Boy, hes got muscles like marble! Karl cannot help thinking
and thus makes the joke complete (34).
Sometimes a whole panel parodies a work of art, for example, when an
archivist looking up some information in his books becomes Spitzwegs
Bcherwurm (Zisterzienser 24), and a showgirl in the anachronistic Moulin
Rouge mimics the showgirl on Toulouse-Lautrecs famous poster Moulin
Rouge La Goulue (Paris 6). In contrast to this, the picture of the statue of
the Sptlesereiter on the cover of the rst Karl comic forms a reference to art
as a work of art, similar to the parody of Caravaggios Bacchus in Das Erbe
(8, 9).
The series also contains allusions to lm. On the one hand, there are
caricatures of actors, which allude to specic roles they have played but there
are also characters from animated lms or puppet shows. The former group,
though, is by far the largest, and several examples can be found in all of the
Karl books, for example, in Der Fall Loreley, a mystery story, the villains steal
the wine of a famous monastery in the Rheingau Kloster Eberbach, where
the interiors for the lm version of Umberto Ecos The Name of the Rose were
shot. In what was in itself a nice parodic turn on Ecos professed liking for
the Bond movies, Sean Connery played the part of the monk turned sleuth
in the lm. Consequently, in Apitz and Kunkels Der Fall Loreley the abbot
of Kloster Eberbach is of course none other than Sean Connery (24).
In Lord am Rhein the reader meets another detective, namely Germanys
most famous TV detective, Derrick, portrayed in the eponymous TV series
by actor Horst Tappert (13). Yet while in the TV series he has a human part-
ner called Harry, in the comic he is accompanied by a German shepherd dog
called Harro. Why a German shepherd? This is an allusion to another Ger-
man crime series called Kommissar Rex, in which the lead character, Rex, is a
German shepherd. Furthermore, the lord who is abducted in Lord am Rhein
is modeled on Sir Francis Bond Head, whose description of his journey to
the Rhine was published in 1834 as Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau and
became a bestseller in Great Britain. Because of his name, Apitz and Kunkel
decided against using the features of Sir Francis for their lord and gave him
a real Bond head instead: he looks like Roger Moore (Lord 4748).
Other examples of actors in the Karl books include John Wayne in cow-
boy costume, taking part in the same horse race as Hauke Heine (Sptlesere-
iter 911) or Sylvester Stallone as the manager of a tness center (Zisterzienser
14). Harrison Ford appears as Indiana Jones (Nibelungen 38) and Marlon
Brando lends his features to a black market dealer in a reference to his role
in The Godfather (Krnung 2223). Yet he is not the only one doing shady
business on this black market. There is also the hissing character from Sesame
Street who tries to sell an E to Ernie (Krnung 22).
Naturally, Apitz and Kunkel also incorporate references to other comics
in their work. A closer look at the organizers team of the coronation in Die
Krnung reveals a humanized version of Scrooge McDuck. Just like his car-
toon counterpart, this character is very reluctant to part with the money he
keeps in a money bin (Apitz and Kunkel, Die Krnung 56). When Karl
crosses the Alps in Italinische Reise, he meets a little girl and asks her whether
this is the right way to Italy. But alas, she only knows the way to Frankfurt
(34). Most readers will immediately identify the little girl as Heidi from the
anime series of the same title.
This shows that, in order to make their allusions work, Apitz and Kunkel
make use of what Terry Pratchett, talking about his own Discworld novels,
has called white knowledge: If I put a reference in a book I try to pick one
that a generally well-read (well-viewed, well-listened) person has a sporting
chance of picking up; I call this white knowledge, the sort of stuff that lls
up your brain without you really knowing where it came from (Words from
the Master). Similar to Pratchett, who refers to the musical version of The
Wizard of Oz rather than to the book version in Witches Abroad (see Witches
13943), Apitz and Kunkel allude to the better-known anime version of Heidi
instead of the literary character from the novels by Johanna Spyri, just as their
Lorelei in Das Erbe quotes from Heines poem and not from Brentanos.
Allusions in Apitz and Kunkels Karl series are so manifold that only a
small number of them could be discussed in this essay. The amount of inter-
textual and intermedial references, of political and cultural satire, can be
regarded as an essential part of Apitz and Kunkels effort to prove that comic
books are not a medium only for children a point that the authors of Karl
have certainly proven.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Apitz, Michael, Eberhard Kunkel, and Patrick Kunkel. Alles Karl! Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel,
1998.
_____. Karl: Das Boot. Vol. 11. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 2002.
_____. Karl: Das Erbe. Vol. 12. Eltville-Martinsthal: Apitz & Kunkel, 2004.
_____. Karl: Das Fa der Zisterzienser. Vol. 2. Martinsthal im Rheingau: Apitz & Kunkel,
1989.
_____. Karl: Das Gold der Nibelungen. Vol. 5. Martinsthal im Rheingau: Apitz & Kunkel,
1994.
_____. Karl: Der Fall Loreley. Vol. 4. Martinsthal im Rheingau: Apitz & Kunkel, 1992.
_____. Karl: Der Sptlesereiter. Vol. 1. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 1988.
_____. Karl: Die Krnung. Vol. 8. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 1997.
_____. Karl: Italinische Reise. Vol. 9. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 1999.
_____. Karl: Lord am Rhein. Vol. 7. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 1996.
_____. Karl: Paris, 9. Thermidor. Vol. 10. Walluf: Apitz & Kunkel, 2000.
Hood, Thomas. Up the Rhine. Vol. 2 of The Works of Thomas Hood, edited by Epes Sargent.
New York: Putnam, 1862 [1839].
Kroener, Wolfgang. Rhein-Romantik: 1: Vom Schauer der Ruinen ergriffen. Rhein-Zeitung
online. 2002. http://rhein-zeitung.de/magazin/rhein_romantik/serie/serie1.html (1 Octo-
ber 2007).
Plummer, Patricia. ...the loveliest paradise on earth: Englische Romantikerinnen am Rhein.
Romantik, Reisen, Realitten: Frauenleben am Rhein, edited by Helga Arendt. Bonn: Ed.
Lempertz, 2002.
Pratchett, Terry. Witches Abroad. 1991. London: Corgi, 1992.
_____. Words from the Master. The Annotated Pratchett File, v. 9.0, edited by Leo Bree-
bart and Mike Kew. 2005. L-Space. www.us.lspace.org/books/apf/words-from-the-mas-
ter.html (1 October 2007).
9
Cultural Specics of a
Scottish Comic: Oor Wullie
Anne Hoyer
Oor Wullie, a comic series about the adventures of a ten-year-old school-

boy, has been published since 1936 by Scotlands most popular Sunday paper
in Dundee, the Sunday Post. Despite its long publication history, this series
has attracted little critical attention. Early research on The Beano, The Dandy
and other comics of the publishing company DC Thomson was conducted
in 1973 by George Rosie, a former employee of the publisher. DC Thomson
itself has released some background information (1996), and Oor Wullie and
The Broons, the series that appears on a double page next to Oor Wullie, are
mentioned in studies that focus on linguistic aspects of Scottish literature, for
example, Corbett and Grlach in connection with language and stereotypes.
The most recent analysis of Oor Wullies publishing history can be found in
Maureen Farrells article, The Lost Boys and Girls of Scottish Childrens Fic-
tion, in the Edinburgh History of Scottish Literature.
Elsewhere, I have investigated the dynamics of Scottish stereotypes
on the level of content; the linguistic changes within the comic over the
long period of its publication; and the mechanisms of Oor Wullies success
(see The Scottishness of Oor Wullie and Thematic and Linguistic Changes of
Oor Wullie). This chapter focuses in particular on the popularity of the
comic.
ORIGINS AND COMPOSITION
The gurehead of DC Thomsons newspapers and magazines is the Sun-

day paper, which was founded as the Post Sunday Special in 1914 in Glasgow
108
9. Cultural Specics of a Scottish Comic (Hoyer) 109
and has been published as the Sunday Post since 1919. On 8 March 1936, The
Broons and Oor Wullie came into being under the inuence of the American
newspaper funnies. Robert Duncan Low, the chief editor of several chil-
drens publications, created the character Oor Wullie with artwork by the
Nottingham-born artist Dudley Dexter Watkins (19071969).
During Watkins era as the series graphic artist, competing DC Thom-
son employees submitted written outlines for the strips every week, from
which the best was printed in the Sunday Post as the weekly cartoon. In this
way, Watkins and the authors continuously improved the comics quality. In
1940, following the publication of highly popular double pages of The Broons
and Oor Wullie in the Sunday Post, DC Thomson satised the still-rising
demand for the series by publishing annual collections. Since then, an Oor
Wullie annual and a Broons annual have been published alternately every
autumn, in time for the Christmas season, and this release date has become
an important event in the Scottish cultural calendar.
However, the path to success was by no means a smooth one. The steady
rhythm of the publication of the annuals was interrupted by World War II
until 1948 when the rst postwar Oor Wullie annual was nally published
to great acclaim. Watkins and the authors of the series improved the comics
quality further in the following years until Oor Wullie became a Scottish
icon in the late 1940s and early 1950s with sales reaching record levels. This
phase of the series is often referred to as the Golden Age of Dudley Watkins.
The artist was so famous that he was exempt from military service in World
War II. Apparently, the nations morale during the war proted so much from
The Broons and Oor Wullie that the authorities did not wish to risk losing the
series unifying and supportive force.
After Watkinss death in 1969, for over seven years DC Thomson was
unable to nd a cartoonist who could satisfy the readers demand for an
authentic continuation of the series. Thus, the publisher kept the regular
string of Oor Wullie and The Broons comics alive by reprinting old stories
every Sunday in the paper, and each year in the annuals. This helped to keep
the fame of the double comic page of the Sunday Post alive, which it did from
the late 1970s with Ken H. Harrison, until a new cartoonist was nally found,
Peter Davidson, in 1997. Both artists introduced some changes but kept the
essence and visual character of the series alive. Consequently, Oor Wullie is
still seen by most Scots as a living national icon.
Considering its fame within Scotland, its production team is rather small.
There is no central editorial pool for comics within DC Thomson, but each
title of the various series has its own small ofce. The present Broons/Wullie
team consists of no more than three members of staff, who pursue the var-
ious tasks connected with the series but also work on other projects. They
compile the Special Collections,* design the Broons calendar and discuss the
scripts the chief editor composes. From January 2005 until March 2006 all
scripts were written by BBC broadcaster Tom Morton. From March 2006
onward Dave Donaldson has written the manuscripts, which are then sent to
the cartoonist who draws the story panels.
AN EXEMPLAR
A very illustrative example of an Oor Wullie strip appeared on 15 Octo-

ber 1944, when hunger had become a constant companion of many Scottish
families. In the story, the protagonist, ten-year-old Wullie, envies his friend,
Fat Bob, who has received a pie as a present from Jeannie, a girl who admires
him. Wullie tries to nd a way to attract the girls attention so that she will
give him a pie, too. He passes by a statue of Robert Burns, the Scottish
national poet who, Wullie surmises, must obviously have known how to get
about successfully in life. In imitation, Wullie decides to write a poem for
the girl.
His rst attempt is a failure. Jeannie chases Wullie away and throws an
empty casserole after him which he, in turn, takes to a bramble bush and uses
to pick blackberries with while he is thinking about an improved version of
his poem. He then returns to Jeannie with a second piece of poetry. The poem
and the additional gift of the pot of blackberries please Jeannie very much
and, in return, she gives Wullie two pies, which he eats enthroned in front
of the statue of Robert Burns on his trademark bucket. In a way typical for
Oor Wullie, a defeat has been turned into a marvelous success. Wullie very
often manages to make something out of nothing by applying his natural
cleverness. In this strip, if only for a short time, he has distanced himself from
hunger and misery and he has gained recognition. Wullie has thus met the
standards set by his Scottish role model, Robert Burns, who rose from an
impoverished farmer to national fame through his poetry.
In much the same way that Burns captured the Scottish national imag-
ination with his poems on rural life, love, and drink, Oor Wullie offered a
gure of identication for the Scottish population with the short stories of a
wee lad from a simple working-class family who does not know upper-class
*Since 1996, additional collectors books have appeared, i.e. the Special Collections. The 60th anniver-
sary volume The Broons and Oor Wullie, 19361996 was the first of nine collectors books published
so far. In these volumes the best stories of certain epochs are reprinted in chronological order. In addi-
tion, striking historical and cultural events of the time are illustrated with pictures as well as headlines
and excerpts from newspaper articles. The many decades of Oor Wullie and The Broons publications
have thus become a repository for an illustrated history of Scotland in the 20th century.
manners but manages to get along due to his natural wit. He has become a
gure of identication for Scottish society as a whole despite his lack of social
graces, and probably exactly because of his rough but hearty approach.
OOR WULLIES STATUS
With the topics it addresses and with its language, Oor Wullie strength-
ens Scottish identity. This has always been one of the secrets of the success
of the series, which can be estimated when one considers the following facts:
Reading the Broons and Oor Wullie was among the 100 Things to Do in
Scotland before You Die by the Glasgow Herald. Old annuals are sold at top
prices rising up to 4,000. Oor Wullies and Watkins iconic status was also
underlined when a family moved into Watkins former home in Dundee in
2002 and discovered murals on the walls, which the artist probably drew for
his children. The murals have been ofcially recognized as a national treas-
ure, and consequently the wall is now owned by the Scottish National Trust.
Furthermore, as part of the Tartan Day festivities in April 2004, Oor Wullie
was voted the most important Scottish icon.
At least four factors are responsible for the striking effect Oor Wullie has
had on the Scottish readership. The rst two hold true for many comics.
Firstly, the structure and symbols of the comics are consistent. From time to
time Wullie addresses the reader directly in a short prologue or epilogue. Sev-
eral of the stories thus begin and end with Wullie sitting on his typical bucket,
which has become the symbol of Wullies cleverness and his ability to impro-
vise. Similar symbols that support his main character traits are Wullies rough
but also practical dungarees, his self-made wooden cart and the shed where
Wullie, the inventor, creates new things to entertain and amuse people.
Secondly, the mechanism of what Konrad Lorenz has termed Kindchen-
schema leads to an intense identication with the protagonist. The characters
round cheeks and big smile are an invitation to identify with him. The gures
in comics have to be universal for readers to be able to identify with them.
Third, the characters attributes as well as the topics are typically
Scottish, which means that they are easily recognizable for the readers. This
is demonstrated by the frequent portrayal of Scottish inventiveness depicted
in the main characters but it also frames the plotlines, which are often rmly
linked to Scottish life and culture. The editorial board considers the Scottish
setting to be an obligation, unlike other comic series, like the Belgian Tintin,
which are mainly based on foreign adventures, rather than being set in the
home country of the protagonist.
Finally, the language of the strip is very convincingly Scottish for the
readership in Scotland, not least because of the subtle orthographical tran-

scription of the Scottish accent. Along the lines of what Allan Bell has termed
ingroup referee design (187f ), the authors of Oor Wullie use language as an
expressive instrument for the declaration of identity and thus signal you and
I are an ingroup to the audience.
STEREOTYPES OF CONTENT
The topics in Oor Wullie constitute a corpus of recurring subjects. Con-

sidered chronologically, topics like school, money, work and jobs are used
less and less. In contrast, growing up, and cultural Scottishness as well as
ingenuity, food and authority are very stable topics. Sports and pets,
on the other hand, increase in frequency. These changes mirror developments
in Scottish society and culture as well as the decisions of the editorial teams
as to which topics might be most interesting for the readers.
The topics revolve around four main stereotypes. First, the vital High-
lander, the image of the strong and rebellious Scot, who often appears in
19th-century romantic views of the past, as, for instance, in Sir Walter Scotts
novels Waverley (1814) and Rob Roy (1817). Second, the Kailyard, a deroga-
tory term that refers to a specic nostalgic genre of Scottish literature that
was extremely popular from about 1880 to 1914. The name kailyard refers
to the little cabbage gardens behind the modest Scottish tenement houses
that have come to represent the petit-bourgeois ideology of home sweet
home, which is often seen as reaction against the evil forces of industrializa-
tion. This is best embodied by The Broons, the harmonious Scottish family
often depicted in front of the replace. The third stereotype of signicance
to Oor Wullie is the Hardman, the strong, sweaty Glaswegian worker with
his cigarette and smoky voice. Finally, there is the Improvising Scot with
his cleverness. Wullie demonstrates his skill at improvising for example when
he lls his ubiquitous bucket with water and uses it variously as a shower,
foot warmer, or cooler. Similarly, he employs his self-made wooden cart for
various jobs, for example, for carrying tourists luggage.
The Improvising Scot is a stereotype the Scottish can most easily iden-
tify with and can be regarded as the native equivalent of the mean/stingy
Scot stereotype, which so dominates the foreign perception of Scotland. The
latter occurs almost never in Oor Wullie. Both images originate at the same
source, namely and in decisive contrast to Englands wealth the scarcity
of Scottish resources. In the foreign view, the Scottish response to the lack of
resources represents niggardliness. From the Scottish perspective, it represents
the skill to improvise.
LINGUISTIC STEREOTYPES
In 1977, Macaulay rst described the linguistic inferiority complex that

purportedly causes the Scots to hesitate before they speak. This is illustrated
in the following quotation: The accent of the lowest state of Glaswegians is
the ugliest accent one can encounter (University lecturer, in Macaulay 94).
Problems can be observed in school and in job interviews, where dialect can
precipitate discrimination. Epithets such as slovenly, vulgar or coarse
are commonly used to characterize Scottish English (Scots).
Scots rarely appears in newspapers, except in articles that deal mainly
with the language itself or with gossipy topics. It is, however, more frequently
used in novels and poetry, but if so mostly in experimental pieces. There has
been an upsurge of Scots in literature since the mid1980s in prose (e.g., in
the novels of authors like Irvine Welsh and James Kelman) and even more
outspokenly in poetry (e.g., in pieces by Tom Leonard and Robert Craw-
ford). This has partly been inuenced by the boost of Scottish self-condence
in 1990, when Glasgow was the European cultural capital.
With the exception of Oor Wullie, Scots is only rarely used even in Scot-
tish comics. Oor Wullies forerunner in the Sunday Post, Wee Jimmy from the
early 1930s, used very little Scots. From 1971 until 1974 Vic Neills McTick-
les ran in The Beano and in the 1990s Angus g (Young Angus) was a comic
that was set in Scotland and contained a few Scottish words. Since 2005, the
weekly Orcadian has published the comic-strip The Giddy Limit, which makes
use of the Orcadian dialect. None of these comics have been as successful in
managing the right measure of Scottishness in language and content as Oor
Wullie. This was investigated with the help of a text corpus that consisted of
ten percent of all Oor Wullie stories.
There are some Scots-specic features which occur repeatedly. Some of
these increase over the years, for example, the negative sufx -nae in words
such as cannae (cannot). There are also very stable features, for example, ye
(you) and words with the characteristic Scottish long monophthong, for exam-
ple, oot (out). However, most features appear with decreasing frequency, for
example, the negative sufx -na and Wullies exclamation jings (gosh, golly,
gee, goodness), which will be used here to illustrate the various reasons for
linguistic change in the series over the years.
Many words display the negative sufx -na and -nae as in doesna and
doesnae (doesnt). Words with the sufx -nae increase in comparison to those
with -na. The diminishing use of -na is one of the most indicative features
in Oor Wullie. The form -na is older in language history and has its origins
in the Northeastern Scotland, that is, the area around Aberdeen, a region
often described as sporting the most archaic rural Scots and hence referred to
as Doric. In contrast, -nae is associated with the densely populated, indus-

trial Central Belt between Glasgow and Edinburgh, and consequently has
strong working-class connotations.
The change from -na to -nae may reect the sociocultural and economic
development within Scotland as well as the orientation toward readers of the
strip. Although the comics are still published in the northeastern town of
Dundee, the northeast has lost much of its traditional economical weight to
Glasgow, Edinburgh and the Silicon Glen in between. In the rst decades
of Oor Wullie, the northeastern variant -na was dominant because the north-
eastern dialects then best represented the image of an essentially rural coun-
try. In the second half of the 20th century, -nae has taken over reecting a
shift of the nations self-perception from a nostalgic image of rural purity to
an increasingly condent working-class urbanism. The trend toward -nae also
reects the tendency to adjust the language of the comic to a wider reader-
ship based mainly in the Central Belt, away from the local and toward the
general. It is also likely that the Central Belt variant increases the metropol-
itan prestige of Oor Wullie.
There are yet other factors that inuence the linguistic change: The dilu-
tion of the specically nostalgic Doric toward the more central form also
demonstrates the decrease of Scots-specic features in favor of English ones.
A typical example is the very Scottish jings (gosh, golly, gee, goodness), which
appeared frequently in the early years of Oor Wullie but then gradually
decreased. In the 1980s, however, the frequency increased again when the
editor wished to increase the Scottishness of the comics. Thus, the speech
bubbles were full of jings again, and the language also was adorned with other
antiquated words. This tendency toward nostalgia also inuenced the con-
tent level. Suddenly, Wullie had a West Highland Terrier, and he went hik-
ing in the Highlands and attended traditional Scottish festivities such as the
Highland Games or traditional dances. The Tartan and Kailyard stereotypes
also occurred with increasing frequency. This may reect a trend toward a
touristy Tartan Industry in the 1980s but changed again in the late 1990s
when the editorial team regarded these alterations as too articial and, in an
attempt to attract younger readers, reduced the glaring Scotticisms. Some-
what less linguistic nostalgia was now regarded as more attractive. This also
shows in the contents. More topics of todays concerns occurred, for exam-
ple, sporting and cultural events. Oor Wullie is still as iconic as ever, demon-
strated, for example, by the fact that the protagonist was voted a Scottish
icon in 2006. The authors try, however, to adjust the language and the con-
tent to the preferences of modern readers. This still includes a little dose of
nostalgia. As far as the key stereotypes are concerned, there are increasing
occurrences of the Hardman stereotype, and the Improvising Scot has
remained a stable feature of the series from its origin. Despite their deliber-
ate use of stereotypes, the authors of Oor Wullie take great care not to pro-
duce too overtly stereotypical texts, which will easily appear nostalgic and
articial.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bain, Ewen. Angus g from the g Logs. Glasgow: Zipo, 1999.
Bell, Allan. Language Style as Audience Design. Language in Society 13 (1984): 145204.
Corbett, John. Language and Scottish Literature. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
1997.
Farrell, Maureen. The Lost Boys and Girls of Scottish Childrens Fiction. The Edinburgh
History of Scottish Literature, edited by Ian Brown et al. Edinburgh: Edinburgh Univer-
sity Press, 2006, 198206.
Grlach, Manfred. A Textual History of Scots. Heidelberg: Winter, 2002.
Hoyer, Anne. The Scottishness of Oor Wullie. Unpublished PhD Thesis, Ruprecht-Karls Uni-
versitt, Heidelberg, 2007.
_____. Thematic and Linguistic Changes of Oor Wullie: The Dynamics of a Popular Scot-
tish Comic. Scottish Archives 13 (2007).
_____. Thematische und sprachliche Vernderungen eines populren schottischen Zeitungs-
comics. 2006. Gesellschaft fr Comicforschung. www.comicforschung.de/tagungen/06
nov/06nov_hoyer.pdf (1 October 2007).
_____. Thematische und sprachliche Vernderungen eines populren schottischen Zeitungs-
comic. Landauer Schriften zur Kommunikations- und Kulturwissenschaft (15), edited by
H.H. Lger / H.E.H. Lenk. Landau: Verlag Empirische Pdagogik, 2008.
Leonard, Alex. The Giddy Limit. The Orcadian. Kirkwall: The Orcadian, since 2005.
Lorenz, Konrad. Die Angeborenen Formen Mglicher Erfahrung. Zeitschrift fr Tierpsy-
chologie 5 (1943): 23549.
Macaulay, Ronald K. S. Language, Social Class and Education: A Glasgow Study. Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press, 1977.
McClure, J. Derrick. Language. Edited by Tom Crawford. Scottish Literary Journal: The
Years Work in Scottish Literary and Linguistic Studies (1990): 7286.
100 Things to Do in Scotland before You Die. The Sunday Herald, 28 March 2004. www.
sundayherald.com/np/100things.-shtm (1 October 2007).
Oor Wullie. The Sunday Post. Dundee: D.C. Thomson, since 1936.
Oor Wullie Annuals. Glasgow: D.C. Thomson, since 1940.
Oor Wullie Special Collections. Glasgow: D.C. Thomson, since 1996.
Rosie, George. The Secret World of the Comic Kings. The Private Life of Lord Snooty: An
Investigation by George Rosie. The Sunday Times Magazine, 29 July 1973.
A Scottish Success Story. London: D.C. Thomson, 1996.
10
Memento Mori: A Portuguese
Style of Melancholy
Mario Gomes and Jan Peuckert
COMICS IN PORTUGAL (A SAD COMICAL FADO)
A discourse on anything concerning Portugal can but start with a set of

clichs. For whenever the character of Portugal is to be expressed in concise
terms, the common denominator usually comes in the shape of a well-known
expression: saudade. All the unnamable characteristics of that which is essen-
tially Portuguese are believed to be condensed and archived in this untrans-
latable term which is probably best conveyed by the minor chords of Fado
music. While the word saudade remains a somewhat cryptic signier stand-
ing for a whole national culture, its transmediation into music seems more
adequate than verbal explanations to bring the blue mood that saudade
encompasses into terms.
Whatever saudade may be, it surfaces in Fado.
Such at least is the clich.
But Fado does not only serve as a way of translating Portugality for the
Englishman.* In the past it has also been used as a privileged means to con-
vey the meaning of Portugal to the Portuguese themselves by nation builders
and dictators engaged in dening a national identity. Especially during the
regime of Antnio de Oliveira Salazar, Fado was promoted as a signier of
national culture. Fado, Ftima, futebol, as the famous alliteration goes, were
fostered to form the substratum of a whole way of life. In spite of all the
changes the country underwent since the revolution in 1974, the structures
*The Portuguese expression para ingls ver, for the Englishman to see, is used to describe something
that is made with the sole purpose of impressing.
116
10. Memento Mori (Gomes and Peuckert) 117
of signicance inherent to this triple-f devotion still seem to be deeply rooted

in a country where melancholy self-pity, feverous mysticism and enthusiasm
for talented dribblers of the ball are still cultivated as Lusitanian idiosyn-
crasies. Though the political program of the Estado novo may have become
obsolete, the symbols of national identity it propagated for decades still sub-
sist. The way in which such symbols are dealt with nowadays is not merely
a political issue but also an aesthetic challenge.
For many, the reinvention of Portugality has thus become an artistic
task. While experimental musicians draw on Fado harmonics or use guitar
samples in electronic compositions, and while lmmakers and writers keep
revising the countrys colonial past over and over, visual artists, and particu-
larly the comic artists we shall be dealing with, are often found trying to con-
vert whatever connotations saudade may conjure up into a graphic style.
The same mood that translates into the harmonics of Fado and into the somber
semantics of its lyrics also governs the settings of many a Portuguese comic
plot. If there actually were something like a Portuguese comic school, it would
probably be best dened by the way this toned-down temper is rendered visu-
ally.
As things stand, however, there seems to be no such thing one could
label a Portuguese comic tradition. Whereas other European countries look
back on a record of successful comic best-sellers, Portugal has neither brought
up any popular comic gures nor recognized comic artists. Signicantly
enough there is not even a genuinely Portuguese term for the genre that has
become known under the loanword banda desenhada, adapted from the
French bande dessine. While Spanish tebeos or Italian fumetti stand
as signposts for a national tradition, the Portuguese have preferred to import
French words and foreign comic books.
If during the Estado-novo-regime the comic strip was under sharp
scrutiny by the censors and was most commonly used as a political instru-
ment, the democratic changes after 1974 have not, however, encouraged the
creation of national comics. They have, rather, facilitated the import of for-
eign books, mostly from overseas, from the United States and from the largest
Portuguese-speaking nation: Brazil. Apparently the small Portuguese market
was not big enough to allow the upsurge of national publications. Since the
offer of pop products from abroad seemed to satisfy the demand of the larger
comic-reading public, Portuguese comics were conned to a niche, some-
where down in the artistic underground. Even after the democratic revolu-
tion, Portuguese comic authors kept working clandestinely. And little seems
to have changed since.
If the genre of comics is usually regarded as a product of mass popular
culture, in Portugal the domain of comic publications has almost exclusively
been taken over by ne arts scholars and so-called intellectual artists. Rather
than producing pulp for youth, Portuguese comic authors have tended to
produce a peculiar sort of fanzine comic poetry, whose addressees have at all
times been academics or well-read comic acionados. In this sense it may not
surprise that, for instance, even the best-selling comic author in Portugal, Jos
Carlos Fernandes, has not produced an uvre for a broad public, but rather
for a small, cultivated audience. Comics produced in Portugal have never
been products of pop culture but rather of the ne arts.
FATALITYWAITING FOR A CERTAIN DEATH
One of the works most apt to illustrate what has been argued so far and
which in the following shall be regarded as representative of a new genera-
tion of Portuguese comic authors is a joint production by the illustrator Miguel
Rocha and the writer Joo Paulo Cotrim entitled Salazar (2006). The unusual
impact on public opinion this book has had is not, as one might at rst sup-
pose, due only to the prominence of the subject it deals with, but mostly to
its aesthetic achievement. The number of renowned prizes the book has been
awarded makes the magnitude of its impact quantiable and speaks for its
quality or at least for its recognition as a ne piece of ne art.
The room for reection Salazar opens up is immensely vast and its dis-
tinctive stylistic and compositional features are redolent of elemental aesthetic
questions that regard the very boundaries of the comics genre. As the full title
of the work, Salazar. Now, in the Hour of His Death, already suggests, the ques-
tions it brings up are literally questions of life and death. And indeed the motif
of death holds a privileged position in Rocha and Cotrims interpretation of
Antnio de Oliveira Salazars biography.
The way it is traditionally delivered, Salazar supposedly died after falling
from a chair. What the anecdote leaves out is that between Salazars clumsy
accident (that effectively caused severe injuries from which he would not
recover again) and his actual decease almost two years elapsed. In the popu-
lar account of the facts this time span has been condensed to a single hap-
pening in which the moment of the fall is inextricably linked to the moment
of the later death. It is the grotesque effect conveyed by the image of the des-
pot dying after falling from his throne that actually makes it possible to treat
Salazars death as an anecdote.
In Salazar Rocha and Cotrim take this anecdotal compression of events
literally, positioning the fall from the chair and the later death of the dicta-
tor as prologue and epilogue, respectively. Within the narrative frame that is
thereby constituted, death ceases to be an event at a certain point in time and
Salazars death as an anecdote (Miguel Rocha and Joo Paulo Cotrim, Salazar. Agora,
na Hora da Sua Morte. 2006, Parceria A. M. Pereira).
becomes a frozen eternal moment. Each depicted instant is set equal to the
dictators double death. But instead of adding up to a linear narrative, the
fragmentary episodes that are shown between these two key moments acquire
their signicance chiey by establishing a thematic nexus with the central
motif of death. The homogeneity that the patchy narration is not able to pro-
duce is hence supplied by the numerous variations of the motif that are pre-
sented in the comic. Through the connotative load lent to each image death
disseminates semiotically. It installs itself virtually everywhere.
When Salazars childhood is depicted, for instance, the comic gures
body is given the face of the waning dictator. As the elderly man is shown as
an intrinsic part of the child, a symbol is constructed that embodies the dis-
integration of time and gives human mortality a face. The differences between
young and old are thus suspended and temporality is renounced as a cate-
gory in which evolution occurs and biographies are written.
The hybrid gure of the aged infant is however only one out of a set of
visual tropes that pervade the comic and symbolically expose its atemporal-
ity. Among these tropes the predominant role is, consequently enough, given
to the gure of death whose trace is constantly at work in Rochas composi-
tions. In some occasions it is merely the distorted, skull-like physiognomy or

the hollow eyes of the comic gures that hint at death; in others the allusion
to traditional allegories, such as the grim reaper, which the shadow of a eld
worker holding a hoe resembles.
In a comic where there is no evolving plot scheme it is this imagery that
establishes the cohesion between the abstract death theme and its concrete
thematic variations issued in each panel. Rochas drawings are hence linked
back to the title of the book, now in the hour of his death, at the same time
illustrating and playing on its signicance. By relating to this one central
theme every symbol out of the set of symbols that is constituted in the book
acquires its particular signicance and at the same time assures the general
consistency of the work.
Maria Emlia, Salazars housemaid, a keen expert in astrology, seems at
least to hold the key to some of the secrets that constitute the analogue death
code,* which is transmitted by the images of the book. The moment she
notices the withering owers that decorate the dictators ofce, she is at once
aware of the underlying signicance and presages a risk of an accident to be
caused by the native. For the reader who has already seen the moment of the
accident it becomes clear that the fatal fall from the chair is traced and that
death is programmed beforehand.
In a world where future events lie inscribed in present symbols, every
effort to challenge destiny is certainly useless. That is why Salazar and his maid
may just as well sit back, resign, and give in to the melancholy mood of
Fado, which, apart from designating a musical genre, is also commonly used
as a synonym for fate. As a matter of fact, the etymology of Fado and
fate can be traced back to a common root. Both words derive from the Latin
past participle fatum, meaning something that has been spoken by a divine
authority. What is uttered as a fatum is part of a divine plan, sure to be
materialized in the future.
This mood of waiting for the ineluctable fate is Fado, and Fado is the
general mood governing life in Rocha and Cotrims Salazarist Portugal. Tudo
isto existe, tudo isto triste, tudo isto Fado (All this exists, all this is sad,
all this is Fado), a shadow surrounded by a bunch of children is seen saying
in one of the comic panels, quoting the famous lines of a well-known Fado
song, which in this context certainly lends itself to a self-referential reading.
Given that the deictic pronoun isto (this) lacks a direct referent, the quo-
*In his essay The Photographic Message, Roland Barthes introduces the idea of an analogue code
or message without code, as he prefers to formulate it. Like other imitative arts comics comprise (at
least) two messages, a denoted message, which is the analogon itself, and a connoted message [...].
Connotation and style convey a message that is not encoded digitally. Cf. Barthes, The Photographic
Message 16ff.
tation may as well be read as referring to everything in Salazars Portugal or

going one step further to the basic mood of the comic itself. Since the
fatum of death, as Salazar shows, is unavoidable, life ends up being a mere
execution of the plan written down by a divine entity, this writing being mir-
rored graphically by the comic artist. In their function as reminders of an
announced, ever-present death, the panels in Salazar become a suite of
memento mori representations. In these representations the dissolution of life
is engendered by a hybrid linguistic and pictorial criture in which the stilus
both of the writer and of the designer engage in creating a space where these
symbols of death become signicant.*
BLOODSTAINED DIPTYCHS
At a certain point the French journalist Christine Garnier, who is

depicted strolling around with Salazar through his private grounds near his
hometown, Santa Comba Do, remarks that whenever she is together with
him she feels so sheltered that time seems to stop. And right she is, indeed,
for the time one spends with Salazar is frozen time, stopped forever on an
ever-present now that is also the hour of his death. What the journalist
intends to be a attering remark, is thus far more than that. For timelessness
is there to be grasped on the page, held up graphically by the image of Salazars
and Mrs. Garniers distorted reection in a pond, an image that extends to
the borders of the printed page, without the contours of a comic panel that
would force it back into a chronological alignment.
As Scott McCloud explains in his popular meta-comic Understanding
Comics the dissolution of the comic grid is a fairly common means to render,
spatially, the disintegration of time:
When bleeds are used i.e., when a panel runs off the edge of the page [...]
time is no longer contained by the familiar icon of the closed panel, but instead
hemorrhages and escapes into timeless space [103].
Judging by the bleedings it causes, the elimination of the closed lines of the
comic panel seems to be a somewhat violent act. As McClouds metaphor sug-
gests, bleeds hurt the comics at the core, interfering with the illusion of
chronological sequence, which the juxtaposition of panels is to suggest.
McCloud also maintains that the space between the panels, that is, the so-
called gutter, plays host to much of the magic and mystery that are at the
*The etymolog y of graphics is of interest here as graphein in Greek means both writing and draw-
ing. Cf. Risthaus (226), who proposes the application of Derridas notion of criture to the study of
comics.
very heart of comics (66). As the images swap over the boundaries of the
comic panel, they thus are taken out of a diegetic sequence. The linearity of
the narrative is quashed and brought to a halt, directing the concentration
onto the visual perception of the motionless image. There is a switch from a
predominantly syntagmatic reading to the aesthetic contemplation of the
visual signs that lie side by side on the page. Bleeding pictures, as it were,
cease to narrate, placing themselves on the threshold of the realm of paint-
ing.
While the progression of narration freezes and the comic panel extends
to the borders of the printed page, the materiality of the medium comes into
play. As Will Eisner points out, the page of the comic, which usually con-
tains several other graphically delimitated panels, may itself be seen as an
underlying macropanel, or metapanel, as he calls it (cf. Eisner 63). Rocha
and Cotrims comic nevertheless shows that a restricted denition of the meta-
panel to the single comic page may not take full account of the particulari-
ties of the medium. The systematic usage these authors make of double-page
compositions suggests that the actual macropanel in comic books is not the
single folio but rather the double page lying open before the readers eye.
Strictly speaking, all comic books are structured as diptychs.
As the composition extends so to ll the double page, the last scrap of dia-
lectics between the single pages that lie side by side is annulled. Differences
are no longer marked and no sequence is left running between the two open
pages (which in Salazar quite signicantly are not numbered). Without the
gutter between the one-page macropanels, the suggestion of passing time
is obliterated. The frozen image stands for itself, detached from a sequence,
that is, from everything that precedes or follows the isolated moment.
In Rochas diptychs, time bleeds to death.
Salazar does not, however, build solely on double-page dyptichs. But
even when the traditional comic grid is employed in a conventional way, it
does not set a ow of action running, but simply develops a short fragmen-
tary motif until it is followed by the next episode out of the dictators life or
out of the everyday life of the Portuguese living under his regime. Each of
these episodes is a particle cut out from a suggested whole that stands as a
closed independent unit, nonetheless linked one way or another to the the-
matic nub of the book, that is to say, to the dictator and his death.
TABLEAUX
The underlying compositional method according to which such isolated

episodes are formed is laid open in a section of the work itself. Taking a series
Time bleeds to death (Miguel Rocha and Joo Paulo Cotrim, Salazar. Agora, na Hora
da Sua Morte. 2006, Parceria A. M. Pereira).
of Salazarist propaganda pictures as a starting point, short narrative sequences

are developed in which the real life hidden beyond the still image is exposed.
At the same time it deconstructs the propagandistic message that is encoded in
the original placard. This aesthetic procedure, here made explicit, is employed
in a similar way throughout the whole book where, consecutively, themes are
set, developed and then displaced by what follows. Without being repetitive,
each episode sheds a new light on one particular aspect of the life of Salazar
and of the country he governs. Each fragment thus is rendered in the form
of what odd though it may sound could be dubbed a tableau vivant.
In his essay Diderot, Brecht, Eisenstein, Barthes dened the theatri-
cal or lmic tableau as an arranged scene cut out from a whole, decoupe, inde-
pendent from what comes before and what comes after. Such tableaux do not
represent scenes picked out randomly from a chain of events, but rather par-
ticular pregnant moments in which past, present and future are condensed.
By transforming the epic work into a succession of aesthetically perfect preg-
nant moments, the playwright or the lm director can be said to operate in
the same way as the painter. Touching on Diderots reection on painting,
Barthes writes:
In order to tell a story, the painter has but one instant at his disposal, the
instant he is going to immobilize on the canvas, and he must thus choose it
well, assuring it in advance of the greatest possible yield of meaning and pleas-
ure. Necessarily total, this instant will be articial [...] a hieroglyph in which
can be read at a single glance (at one grasp if we think in terms of theatre and
cinema) the present, the past and the future; that is the historical meaning of
the represented action. This crucial instant, totally concrete and totally abstract,
is what Lessing subsequently calls (in Laocon) the pregnant moment [Diderot,
Brecht, Eisenstein 97].
Like Brechts Mother Courage or Eisensteins Battleship Potmkim, which
Barthes takes as examples to illustrate his idea, Salazar is organized as a suc-
cession of pregnant moments that all point to the crucial instant of death.
What distinguishes the comic tableau from the dynamic theatrical tableau as
well as from the static painting is that it is twofold.
Literally.
As a hybrid art form between the pictorial and the epic, comics may com-
bine two categories of tableau arrangements, that is to say they may be dis-
played statically on the two-page dyptich, to be read at a single glance, but
also dynamically, as a tableau vivant that is not scattered with the turning
of the page, but instead may extend over several comic book dyptichs, its unity
being established mentally.
The still-standing image of the dictator lying prostrate on the oor with
what seem like double book pages ying about serves as the perfect illustra-
tion for the way in which the alignment of dyptichs is laid out in Rocha and
Cotrims comic. Mises en abme, the attering pages on the paper canvas dou-
ble the group of still tableaux that together form the Barthesian tableau
vivant.*
The possibility of combining both of these forms of tableaux is specic
to the comic genre and results from its basic organizational features, which
Stephan Packard calls primary and secondary hybridization (cf. Packard 97),
that is to say on the one hand the macrostructural syntagmatic alignment of
the panels and on the other the paradigmatic composition of each single panel.
In Rocha and Cotrims arrangement of the comic, this specicity of the
genre recurs as a structural support in rendering the main theme of the book
and suggesting its underlying mood. The tensions between macrostructure
and tableau, between suggested life and the frozen dead images that repre-
sent it, are made meaningful and used in order to sustain the central thematic
*After turning the page, the way in which still pictorial tableaux are linked in the book becomes evi-
dent. The motif of the flattering pages extends to the next dyptich, where the shapes dissolve into abstract
shades arranged in a manner that reminds one of Eschers well-known day and night. Both dyptichs
are hence suggested to be one unit, intact in spite of the turn of the page that separates them.
Top: A combination of two forms of tableaux. Bottom: Viva la muerte! the
metapoetical slogan of the comic (both by Miguel Rocha and Joo Paulo Cotrim:
Salazar. Agora, na Hora da Sua Morte. 2006, Parceria A. M. Pereira).
motif of the dissolution of time in death. In Salazar the still images, con-
stituents of each comic, are not imbued with the suggestion of life and of
passing time. Viva la muerte! printed in stout letters and highlighted in
Spanish is the metapoetical slogan of the book. By renouncing a mimesis
of life, Rocha and Cotrim suggest that the dynamic suggested in comics is
necessarily built on static corpses. As a genre constituted by dead images,
comics are obviously a privileged means to represent a Portugal ruled by dic-
tators and fatalistic beliefs.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Barthes, Roland. Diderot, Brecht, Eisenstein. Image, Music, Text, edited and translated by
Stephen Heath. New York: Hill, 1977, 6978.
_____. The Photographic Message. Image, Music, Text, edited and translated by Stephen
Heath. New York: Hill, 1977, 1531.
Eisner, Will. Comics & Sequential Art. Tamarac: Poorhouse, 1985.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics. The Invisible Art. New York: Paradox, 1993.
Packard, Stephan. Anatomie des Comics. Psychosemiotische Medienanalyse. Gttingen: Wall-
stein, 2006.
Risthaus, Peter. Ent-sinnung. Die Unheimliche Comic-Theorie des Jacques Derrida.
Schreibheft 51 (1998): 22527.
Rocha, Miguel, and Joo Paulo Cotrim. Salazar. Agora, na Hora da Sua Morte. Lisbon: Parce-
ria A. M. Pereira, 2006.
11
Otherness and the European
as Villain and Antihero
in American Comics
Georg Drennig
In the universe of Batman artists, phrenolog y and allied

sciences have never lost their explanatory power.
Uricchio and Pearson 204
The network has told us we cannot put minorities
in criminal or disparaging situations.
Boyd Kirkland, qtd. in Garcia 97
The quotes above frame the central questions that guide this paper. How
can the comics industry, which is still using physiognomy to represent char-
acter traits, encode Otherness through ethnicity without being seen as racist?
Do the ways and means through which the characters villainy is encoded
resort to ethnic stereotyping, and if so, which stereotypes do they employ?
In the following, I will argue that American comics frequently use antiEuro-
pean discourse and the representation through stereotypes as a part of comics
vocabulary. This is usually done in order to construct Otherness and thus mark
characters as morally corrupt. In other words, although the villains may be
Caucasian, they still occupy a cultural space that is traditionally allocated to
ethnicities-as-criminals (cf. Ross 34). These characters thus represent a racist
construction beyond the color paradigm (cf. Mac an Ghaill).
After a glance at the problems surrounding the study of ethnically stereo-
typed characters, I will rst discuss two Batman characters who are loaded
with American cultural anxieties about European Others: the Mad Hatter and
Mr. Freeze. The analysis will then turn to the Irish Proinsias Cassidy and the
127
German Herr Starr from the series Preacher, who are both explicitly identied
as nonAmerican. The nal example of a European Other in American comics
will then be Hellblazers John Constantine, who proves to be a more compli-
cated and ambiguous character than the other villains discussed here.
Two crucial factors complicate the proposed discussion: First, the tex-
tual (in)stability of character constructions in longer-running titles, and sec-
ond, the fact that stereotypes are often amorphous and highly dependent on
historical context. In what has become labeled the Golden Age of American
comics, this issue of stereotyping was still rather simple and uncontroversial,
as discourses of unashamed hatred for the racial other (Brooker 91) were
prevalent in the industry in the 1940s. Ironically enough, this tendency toward
a racist portrayal of nonCaucasian ethnicity was also noticed and criticized
by the much-reviled anti-comics crusader Frederic Wertham (cf. Brooker
112f ). Since then, cultural values and the modes of representation, and there-
fore also the outline of comic characters, have changed, which complicates
their analysis.
The rst problem one encounters is that characters in longer-running
series like Batman have developed a fragmented textual existence over the
years, including changes in character history and physical appearance. Most
of this is due to the industrys mode of production by teams of artists (cf.
Brooker, Uricchio and Pearson). Statements about character construction in
the case of Batman therefore generally apply to a specic iteration of that
character. Yet, this also offers a special analytical opportunity since the recur-
ring features of a character identify that characters core identity. That is, if
this core identity reects encodings of ethnicity, this ethnicity can then be
understood as a key constituent of the villains Otherness.
Ethnic encodings, however, are often only understood within a certain
historical time frame. They lose their explanatory power to contemporary
readers at some point and then either vanish or remain encapsulated in media
forms, becoming dormant stereotypes (Cinnirella 39). As the discussion of
the Mad Hatter will show, they may remain bound to certain signiers that
are still understood as connected with ethnicity and can thus be activated
by association (in contrast to fully dormant stereotypes). Another possibil-
ity is that they retain connotations of ethnic Otherness even if they have lost
their specic associations. Although they are amorphous, such stereotypes
still work as a clear code for nonAmerican ethnicity or, even more diffuse,
for Europeanness as a broad category of foreign white ethnicity.
This is not to argue that a stereotype based on Europeanness is in any
way equal to the racist representations of Blacks or East-Asians in the 1940s.
The basic cultural process, however, is similar. Through the use of stereotyp-
ical representation, the Otherness of characters is highlighted, which estab-
11. Otherness and the European as Villain and Antihero (Drennig ) 129
lishes a link between their national or ethnic background and their behavior.
The standard connection between being nonWASP and being morally cor-
rupt, therefore, does not have to rest directly on stereotypes that may have
long been dormant, but can be established as soon as a villain is recognized
as being culturally different.
THE MAD HATTER
One such collaboration of dormant, implicit, and still active stereotypes

can be observed in the Batman villain Jarvis Tetch, better known as the Mad
Hatter. In this character, the iconographic traditions of depicting Irishmen
as subhuman* are still evident in the 1980s. In a more recent take on the char-
acter, the visual characteristics have become less pronounced but the pres-
ence of antiIrish is still visible.
The inspiration for the Mad Hatter is taken from Alices Adventures in
Wonderland, as the villain in Batman repeatedly makes clear by quoting Lewis
Carrol, and by dressing like John Tenniel the illustrator of the rst (1865)
edition of the novel, who envisioned the character. It is however not only the
stereotypically Irish clothes that mark the Mad Hatter as a cultural Other.
The physiognomy of this Batman character was likewise based on Tenniels
design, which depicts the Mad Hatter as a simian subhuman. This is highly
signicant if one considers that John Tenniel was one of the most important
cartoonists of the late Victorian era and one of the artists chiey responsible
for creating the visual stereotype of the simian-subhuman-Celt Irishman (cf.
Curtis 3645). Tenniels Mad Hatter closely resembles what had become the
negative image of a generic Irishman: he has an ape-like face and posture and
thus embodies the notion of an ethnically inferior and even monstrous sta-
tus in contrast to the more angelic and noble Anglo-Saxons.
In the postbellum United States, John Tenniels fellow cartoonist and
contemporary Thomas Nast created a similar mode of portraying the Irish as
racially inferior and subhuman (cf. Curtis 5867). Nasts Irish were violent,
ape-like brutes unt for participation in American democracy. A number of
antiIrish sentiments contributed to the creation of this stereotype: The per-
ceived inltration of police departments by Irish immigrants was one anxi-
ety in this xenophobic atmosphere, while their Catholicism inuenced the
view of them being a danger to the fabric of American society (cf. Avin). In
fact, not only did Catholicism mark the Irish as religiously different and
*See Curtis and Leerssen on the long English tradition of the stereotypical depiction of the Irish. This
is a tradition that has been inherited by American culture.
potentially disloyal, but it also bore the connotation of a predisposition to

sexual deviancy (cf. Schultz). A mixture of anxieties on various levels thus
informed the stereotypical representation of Irishness.
In a mid1980s version of the Mad Hatter in Batman issues #378 and
#379, the iconographic tradition of the simian-subhuman Irishman can be
seen as still at work. Tetchs bent posture and his dangling limbs resemble
movements usually associated with primates, and stand in stark contrast to
the literally upright protagonists, Batman and Nocturna. His facial features
are equally subhuman, and match those of Victorian caricature, including
oversized lips and a receding forehead. Additionally, the Mad Hatter is repeat-
edly shown with a half-open mouth and vacant expression, and is given a mon-
key companion, which further highlights his association with the subhuman.
This accumulation of signiers marks the Mad Hatter clearly as less human
than his superhero opponents or any other characters in the issues. It also ties
in with a stereotype of Irishness employed in antiIRA cartoons of the time
(cf. Curtis). In addition to the usual graphic vocabulary, a special visual strat-
egy is employed in the construction of the villain in the Batman series to fur-
ther highlight his association with the Irish Other: The color scheme of his
outt reects the ag of the Republic of Ireland green, orange, and white.
A couple of years later, in Morrison and McKeans graphic novel Arkham
Asylum (1989), the Mad Hatters face has shed its apish features, yet it still
retains visual associations with Irishness. This Mad Hatter appears like a
malevolent Leprechaun with a reddened nose and bushy eyebrows and thus
tunes in with a different tradition of stereotype of Irish physiognomy, which
is only seemingly less subhumanizing due to its merry, folkloristic element.
The Mad Hatters monologue, however, triggers different associations: Thats
why children ... Interest me. [...] To know them is to know myself. Little girls
especially. Little blonde girls. Little shameless bitches! Oh God. This utter-
ance allows for a number of different readings. It can be seen as an allusion
to the protagonist of Alice in Wonderland or to Lewis Carrols alleged pedophile
tendencies. It can also be understood, however, as a reference to the wide-
spread representations of child molesters in American culture. One of the
prime personications of this anxiety are Catholic, that is, Irish, priests. This
must not be understood as a direct equation, but as yet another stereotype
that is enmeshed into the fabric of representations of Irish ethnicity.
In 2001, in Detective Comics #75860, the original character design is
still recognizable, but his physiognomy is more human than his predecessors.
The only animal attribute that is still in place are the prominent teeth, which
is the only trait that disturbs the Mad Hatters otherwise inconspicuously
human appearance. His modus operandi, however, still encodes ethnicity.
Tetch inltrates the Gotham City Police Department with nanotechnology
mind control devices, and thus is able to control one-third of the police force.
This points at a dormant stereotype that has already been named above,
namely that of an Irish subversion of law and order through an inltration
of the police force. Yet, the Mad Hatter achieves this by disguising himself
as a coffee vendor named Fez, a man of unidentied middleEastern origin.
A different ethnic and religious Other now embodies anxieties of subversion
from within. This can probably be read as an indicator of changing cultural
roles for certain ethnicities and thus allows me to rephrase Ross (cf. 34), argu-
ing that Middle-Eastern has now taken a cultural space once allocated to
Irishness. It comes as no surprise that the characters new disguise follows
a similar naming pattern as his original identity. Instead of the iconic large
hat, he is now named for an equally foreign and thus signicant headdress,
that is, the Fez.
MISTER FREEZE
A different fear of subversion from within informs the character con-

struction of a Batman villain best known from the 1997 lm Batman & Robin:
Mr. Freeze. Because of the manifold and vastly different screen and comic-
book versions of the villain, the following discussion deals only with the few
stable traits that govern the respective character constructions. In this core
identity, anxieties of cold-war American culture about amoral scientists nd
clear expression in a dehumanized gure that has distinctly European traits.
In contrast to the Mad Hatter, the stereotypes that denote the characters
national background are much more explicit and far less based on dormant
imagery.
Mr. Freezes real name already makes the ethnic reference clear: Victor
Fries is a name that puts him on a level with other characters that are con-
sidered prime representations of the amoral scientist stereotype. The list
includes such obviously German names as Dr. Hoenikken, inventor of Ice
Nine in Kurts Vonneguts Cats Cradle a book which was, however, pub-
lished after Mr. Freeze had already become part of Batmans repertoire of
antagonists or, maybe more famously, the former Nazi-scientist Dr.
Strangelove in Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love
the Bomb. In a culture saturated with fear of possible nuclear annihilation,
the mad scientist was not only a powerful image for an antagonist, but was
also almost automatically endowed with distinctly German traits, a tendency
that stemmed from anxieties of post-war America in which former Nazi sci-
entists played a key role in advanced sciences (cf. Haynes 261 63). The fol-
lowing quote referring to Stanley Kubricks popularization of Dr. Strangelove
can be applied to the broader cultural background, and thus to Victor Fries
as well: [F]rom the theme of German as Mad Scientist Kubrick has pro-
gressed to the notion of Mad Scientist as German (Mahoney 429, see also
Haynes 261 63).
Apart from his German name, Mr. Freezes character conguration
alludes to another tradition of stereotype: the wheelchair-bound madman.
This special variation of the mad scientist type is marked by his dehuman-
ized body, which is abnormal and in constant need of technical support.
Similar congurations of grotesque bodies as an aspect of the American
iconography of Germans can be traced back to the 19th century (Zacha-
rasiewicz 207), and in the depiction of Mr. Freeze this deformation is the most
powerful marker of his Otherness. Although his body may be marked as a
distinct Other, Mr. Freeze is rather de- and not subhumanized like the Mad
Hatter. This becomes evident in Batman & Robin where Arnold Schwarzeneg-
gers vivid impersonation of Victor Fries makes him rather superhuman, an
bermensch, literally more white-skinned and blue-eyed than any other char-
acter. Had the reading of Mr. Freeze as a Mad Scientist as German escaped
anyone, the casting choice left little doubt.
PROINSIAS CASSIDY
Unlike the villains of the Batman universe, the characters of Garth Ennis
1995 to 2000 comics series Preacher have a stable textual existence. In this
series with its proud, American protagonist, Jesse Custer, the Northern Ire-
landborn writer Ennis uses characters with an explicitly nonAmerican back-
ground in roles that range from the series half-friendly rogue to absolute
villain. For the purpose of this paper, the focus will lie on the Irish Proinsias
Cassidy and the German Herr Starr, both of whom perform according to
(still active) national stereotypes.
The character of Cassidy is Othered in several ways. First of all, his role
in the series as a member of the trio of protagonists is ambiguous; he is a
more bi-moral rogue than the heros sidekick is. He also gleefully exhibits his
Irish ethnicity and, nally, he is a vampire, a creature that does not only stress
the de-human aspect of the character but also marks him fundamentally as
an ethnic and ethical Other.
As mentioned above, Cassidy is an ambiguous gure. At times, his val-
ues conform with those of the series main voice, the protagonist, Jesse Custer.
His notions of masculinity, honor, and of taking the law into ones own hands
basically mirror Jesses mindset, for example in Dixie Fried, where Cassidy
executes a fellow vampire for killing an innocent for her blood. As is explained
by a character in the comic, Cassidy behaves according to a code of honor

that is inscribed as deeply masculine: Men respond to that rogueish [sic!]
free spirit of his on some basic male level: A comrade, a good mate as he would
say (Dixie Fried 217). Yet throughout the series Cassidy is also revealed as
betraying those who trust him, as beating women he has a relationships with,
as cheating on his friends, and as generally leading a cursed existence: Shit
happens in his wake, one of his former friends states (Dixie Fried 217). His
nal act in the series mirrors his ambiguous morality: He delivers Jesse into
the hands of his enemies, but in doing so saves Jesses life and thus achieves
a redemption of sorts.
Cassidys gleeful performance of Irishness is fused with his overall per-
formance of violent masculinity. This is remarkable, given that he relates to
the story of his arrival in the United States as a new beginning. In fact, his
rst act toward beginning a new life, that is, the creation of a new identity,
is the denying of his Gaelic rst name, Proinsias, in favor of his more Amer-
ican last name, Cassidy (see #26). Yet, even after 80 years in the United
States, he has neither lost his accent nor assimilated to the degree that he
wouldnt remain instantly recognizable as an Irishman. From his point of view,
Americans are also alien, especially when it comes to their judgment of his
behavior: Typical Yank attitude: if yehve moren two pints at a sittin, every-
one says yehve a fuckin drinks problem (Dixie Fried 192). Before he dies at
the end of the series, he nevertheless once more declares his love for Amer-
ica. As with morality, his approach to identity is thus marked by duality and
by instability.
Another aspect of the character underscores this theme. Cassidy is a vam-
pire. This status as a supernatural creature of myth in combination with his
doomed existence as an immortal wandering-jew (Kitson) is not only an
obvious marker of Otherness but can be interpreted as a specically Catholic
cultural aspect (cf. Kitson). The unhuman living dead are open to a number
of possible interpretations, whether as an ethnic threat (cf. Arata) or as hybrid
creatures that mark the return of a repressed Other (cf. Reichstein and Cop-
jec). It would not be in line with the overall character of Cassidy, however,
if his textual assignment as a vampire went unchallenged. In Dixie Fried, he
makes a point of not adhering to the generic conventions of vampiric behav-
ior, and issue #6 relates an anecdote of him having a lethal ght with a Hells
Angel who had insulted the pope, because he always get[s] Catholic on
Heroin (9). Although Cassidy thus dees generic conventions, his vampirism
is still a mirror of the aspects of his character that show him as a specically
Irish Other.
It transpires from the above how directly Proinsias Cassidys Irishness is
linked to his general Otherness. In contrast to the Mad Hatter, the later date
of publication and the Northern Irish background of the author enable a dif-
ferentiated use and variated meaning of the stereotypes. Yet the fact that Cas-
sidy revels in the dirtiness, drunkenness, laziness and violence of the alien
Irish (Mac an Ghaill 138), his Catholicism, his monstrousness and dehuman-
ized status all are inextricably linked. The stereotypes may have changed and
been subjected to a postmodern update, they might even have shifted from
representing the Irish as subhuman, yet the allusion to stereotypes and their
conguration in the case of Cassidy in Preacher show that they remain cul-
turally powerful, and are fraught with meaning that can be used to construct
villainy.
HERR STARR
If stereotypical representations of Irish masculinity constitute one aspect

in the complicated character of Cassidy, the Preacher series villain Herr Starr
by comparison is reduced to little more than an antiGerman caricature. The
reader never gets to know his rst name and the characters sticking with the
German Herr instead of Mister increases the impression that he is rather
a caricature than a fully developed character. In contrast to the time-specic
anxieties that informed Mr. Freezes character construction, the features that
inform Starrs Germanness are timeless and still highly recognizable. Both
physically and in his actions, he is a monstrous villain who conforms almost
exactly to all the main character traits political caricaturists have attributed,
and still do attribute, to German subjects (cf. Bhme-Drr).
As mentioned above, the grotesque body has long been a feature of the
iconographical German seen from an American perspective. Herr Starrs ini-
tial disguration, his scarred face, however, has a more precise connotation
in the iconography of German ethnicity it refers to the dueling, national-
ist student (Zacharasiewicz 220). In the course of events in Preacher, Starr
acquires a set of further mutilations that make his body progressively more
grotesque and less human: He loses an ear and then acquires a scar on the
top of his bald head, which leads to the often-commented-on result that his
head looks like a great pecker (War in the Sun 199). He then has one of his
legs eaten by cannibals and is nally emasculated by a Rottweiler dog. Ennis
approach in dehumanizing his villain may enter the realm of dark humor,
but it does also serve another purpose: Starrs losing control over his body
mirrors his increasingly monstrous and uncontrolled behavior as his quest for
order becomes a crusade for personal revenge.
Starrs intense sense of order, which to him takes the shape of a personal
war against anarchy, is the initial driving force behind his actions. As he puts
it, I am at war. I have been all my life. And I would kill a million little girls
to win (War in the Sun 53). Karin Bhme-Drr has identied such a com-
pulsive sense of order, coupled with brutality, megalomania, and mili-
tarism in her survey of American editorial cartoons as a key character trait
attributed to Germans. Each of these features is present in the gure of Starr,
who takes each of them to excess. This results in an ethnic overperformance
that associates him rmly with the worst stereotypes about Germans avail-
able. His background story as given in War in the Sun includes a monologue
that makes these issues explicit in a telling misnomer:
Our cities are lled with degenerate scum. Were ruled by fools whose only
qualication is that a bunch of sheep found them more attractive than the other
fools [...]. Democracy is for ancient Greeks [...] I joined the German Wehrma-
cht because I sought order. To live with it, to instill it, to impose it [1920].
The timeline in the comic makes it clear that Herr Starr cannot have joined
the Wehrmacht, as he was born after World War II. This leaves the question
whether the wrong use of the term is Ennis mistake, or that of his character.
This shows that Herr Starr is characterized by an overperformance of
stereotypes of German ethnicity. Neither his quest for order nor his brutal-
ity know any constraints. Herr Starr thus becomes absurd just as his physi-
cal monstrousness is driven to an excessive point of absurd humor. It is through
this drastic characterization and the ridicule Ennis employs Starr is so mil-
itaristic that standing in front of a tank regiment under his command gives
him an erection (War in the Sun 92) that his use of highly problematic
stereotypes becomes an exercise in dark humor. Ennis comic here also bor-
ders on the realm of political caricature. Thus, the use of negative stereotypes
is masked as politically legitimate no matter how problematic the under-
lying prejudices are.
JOHN CONSTANTINE
Hellblazers protagonist represents a different use of Otherness as com-

pared to the use of now-partially dormant stereotypes of Batman villains, and
the exaggerated and grotesque characters of Preacher. The Englishman John
Constantine is neither a simple villain nor is the series written from an exclu-
sively American point of view. In Brian Azzarellos tales of Constantines trav-
els to the United States, however, the ambiguity of his character is evaluated
from the point of view of American characters, and his Otherness is associ-
ated with his worst actions.
Azzarellos Hellblazer storyline (collected in Hard Time, Good Intentions,
Freezes Over, and Highwater) features John Constantine traveling around the
United States in a tale that resembles a road movie. Even though the people
he meets are, to a large extent, outcasts themselves prison inmates, Appa-
lachian porn producers, white supremacists, or Gatsbyesque sexual deviants
their point of view eventually becomes privileged over that of John
Constantine. The role of the observer of Otherness is thus taken by the Amer-
icans, and not, as could be expected, by the traveler himself. Through this
observation by Americans, the ambiguity and Otherness of Constantines
character is highlighted trough his Europeanness.
Like Cassidy in Preacher, Constantine revels in being different. He smokes
nonstop, walks or hitchhikes instead of driving, takes deviant sexuality to an
extreme, and speaks with a noticeable accent. All these are traits that are
observed as exotic, and commented upon, by the comics other characters.
Only twice in the whole story, however, does the comic present Constantines
point of view on the experience of Otherness: Once when he is complaining
about the taste of American cigarettes and coffee in the prologue to Good
Intentions (6), and then when he enters a pub in an interlude in Highwater
(12325).
Constantines Otherness is then associated in a further step with traits
of villainy and infernality. In Highwater, Constantine enters the comic book
page to the words of a white supremacist monologue, his face rst appearing
beneath the text block meaning the seed of Satan had been planted (9).
While the monologues point of view is not validated from within the comic
itself, the infernality of Constantines actions is stressed by the graphical
arrangement. The remarkable issue regarding his use of witchcraft is that it
is directly associated with some of the traits that mark him as European. In
Hard Time, he uses cigarettes to do magic. These fags are either visible in
the panel whenever characters are affected by his magic or become the sub-
ject of an individual panel connected with magic (e.g., pages 27, 36, 42, 48,
94, 98). As has already been mentioned, Constantines accent and choice of
words are something other characters repeatedly comment upon as irritatingly
foreign, but language is also his magical tool of choice in Highwater, where
he creates a golem by inscribing Hebrew letters on a corpse. In Freezes Over
he manages to literally talk two characters to their deaths: All Im sayin, is
choose the right words [...] and you can talk a person into just about any-
thing (107).
His role as an English alien in the United States is best summed up in
Good Intentions. He relates his perception of the situation in an anecdote
about a friend of his: An I ask her, Why do I always end up in bad places?
An without missing a beat she says, Doncha see John ... its you what makes
em bad (29). This comment summarizes the position of Azzarellos series:
Its the visit by John Constantine that brings death and destruction to U.S.
locales. He is the European infernal Other, and as he leaves the United States,
he also leaves a pile of bodies behind. The last panel of Highwater, the series
nal volume, shows detectives around a dead body lying in a pool of blood.
One of them asks, Is someone smoking? (260). Constantine is gone, but
the smell of his cigarette lingers and invites one last reading of his Euro-
peanized smoking habit as the sulphurous smell of hell.
CONCLUSION
This paper has outlined different strategies of Othering and vilifying

strategies employed in the American comics industry. By relying on stereo-
types that are either seen as harmless or are dormant, and through the use of
character ambiguity, these modes of representation constitute the continua-
tion of a tradition of depicting Europeanized Otherness as villainy, which is
rooted in 19th-century discourses. In the cases of the Batman universes Mad
Hatter and Mr. Freeze, now-dormant stereotypes make a distinct reading of
the characters Otherness difcult within the context of the late 20th century.
The depiction of these villains thus relies on a character update in the case of
the Mad Hatter, and the signifying power of stardom concerning Mr. Freeze
to revalorize notions of nonAmerican background as a denotation of villainy.
Garth Ennis approach in Preacher is much less subtle. Two vastly different
strategies are employed in this series. Cassidy is an ambiguous character whose
villainous Europeanness sometimes is a matter of viewpoint. Herr Starr is
more of an antiGerman cartoon than a fully developed graphic novel char-
acter. John Constantine, nally, is a more complicated gure altogether. His
European Otherness is, however, rmly bound up in the negative aspects of
his character.
Ambiguous or not, villain or antihero, all these characters share one
important trait: They bring death and destruction, anarchy and mayhem from
without. They are also European and hence Others in a U.S. setting. Their
core identity is based on these facts, and both aspects are inextricably linked.
Without his German name and the notions of Mad Scientist as German
(Mahoney 429), Mr. Freeze would not fully function as a villain, just as John
Constantine would not be the ambiguous antihero he is without his smok-
ing habit and ostentatious Englishness. Thus the comics analyzed here have
not only established Europeans as villains and antiheroes, but they also have
progressed to the notion of villains and antiheroes as Europeans.
FILMOGRAPHY
Batman & Robin. Dir Joel Schumacher. Prod. Peter MacGregor-Scott. 1997. DVD: Warner
Bros., 1998.
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12
2000AD: Understanding
the British Invasion of
American Comics
Ben Little
The mid1980s marked a watershed for American comics. Alternately

dubbed an unprecedented renaissance, the third movement, or the start
of the revisionary superhero, there is little doubt that something changed
in the mindset of the comics industry that suggested that the old rules of what
was allowed and disallowed, the boundaries of creativity and content, changed
(McCue and Bloom 3; Klock 2f ). One indication of the shift was the increas-
ing willingness of big publishers to release titles without prior submission to
the comics code, which had been the main shackle to conformity, severely
constraining creators. Other factors for change were the increasing experimen-
tation with different styles or the acknowledgement of the market for older
readers who remained invested in their favorite characters and their comics
collections well into their 20s and 30s.
The comics that came out of this period drew on a wide range of inu-
ences both inside and outside of mainstream American comic books. The
underground comics of the 1960s and 1970s and their descendants in the inde-
pendent comics of the 1980s are one source of inspiration, as are the design
sensibilities of Japanese manga (notable in Frank Millers work). French science
ction, particularly in the repackaged form of Heavy Metal magazine, offered
a different range of ideas and styles. Yet the most signicant inuence on Amer-
ican comics were the large number of creators that left the UK to work on
many of the titles that have come to be considered the dening works of the
period. In some respects the 1980s saw not simply a progression to a new stage
in the history of American comics, but a merger of two national traditions.
140
12. 2000AD (Little) 141
The emergence of the eld of Anglo-American comics is what will be

explained and contextualized here through a look at 2000AD, the weekly UK
magazine that launched the careers of many of the creators in question. This
will then be brought into focus through a close look at the trope of poverty
in Alan Moore and Ian Gibsons The Ballad of Halo Jones.
The inux of British talent to U.S. comics publishers paved the way for
a fertile exchange of ideas, techniques and approaches that went beyond a sim-
ple notion of national inuences. Moreover many of these creators continue
to work for U.S. publishers to this day and have been followed by a second
generation of British talent. Richard Pells states that the process of cultural
intermingling between Europe and America is intricate:
Americans are as affected by European products and fashions as Europeans are
inuenced by American technology and mass entertainment. The result is a
complex interaction between different and increasingly heterogeneous cultures
and societies [Pells xv].
The British-American relationship, however, is closer and more nuanced than

that between the U.S. and the rest of Europe. While this can initially be
attributed to a shared language and colonial history, it grew even closer with
the political convergence that occurred during the 1980s under the steward-
ships of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. Richard Dumbrell argues that
the personal and political closeness between the two was intense, and
unprecedented in recent history (89). He goes on to argue that, by the time
Alan Moore was writing comics for U.S. publishers, by some measures the
US and Britain [...] seem[ed] to constitute a distinct culture area (32).
The discovery of British comics creators in the United States repre-
sents a similar phenomenon to the impact that British artists had on Ameri-
can pop music in the 1960s, following the success of the Beatles, both in terms
of their popular appeal and their comparative radicalism:
The Beatles managed to be avant-garde and commercial at the same time. After
their spectacular tour of the United States in 1964, the directors of Americas
record companies realized that Britain was a hotbed of musical innovation.
Producers signed any British group they could nd to a recording contract.
American radio programs featured the latest British music. American singer-
composers like Simon and Garfunkel tried to emulate the artistry of the Beatles.
Soon, American and British groups sounded indistinguishable. By the 1970s, a
transatlantic style had emerged, combining elements of British and American
popular music [Pells 319].
To demonstrate the strength of this parallel we can make a short list of some
of the British talent who had or were continuing to work with American pub-
lishers by 1995: John Wagner, Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons, Alan Grant, Eddie
Campbell, Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis, Garth Ennis, Steve Dillon, Neil
Gaiman, Dave McKean, Kevin ONeill, Bryan Talbot, Ian Gibson, Brian
Bolland and many more. In the same way as the British music scene of the
1960s developed out of exposure to, and reinterpretation of, American pop-
ular music, so the changes that occurred in comics in the 1980s cannot be
seen as a simple case of one group of creators inuencing another. British
comics had changed in the late 1940s and early 1950s, inspired by an inux
of American publications imported for GIs stationed in the UK.* Moreover,
the British creators involved in 2000AD had been immediately inuenced by
both the American mainstream and underground U.S. artists such as Robert
Crumb, Jaxon, Gilbert Shelton et al. In fact, many of the 2000AD writers
and artists had been involved in the British underground comics scene largely
inspired by its American counterpart (cf. Sabin 55). Thus, over time, the
process has been one of reciprocal inuence and innovation, so that by the
mid1980s we can talk of the emergence of a transatlantic Anglophone comics
culture. One way this convergence has been described is as the darkening
of the comics industry, as the tone of many comics became more cynical, and
favorite characters more sinister. What will be suggested here is that far from
being a purely stylistic shift, creators were taking their medium more seri-
ously and were, with due concern, responding to the signicant political and
social changes occurring on both sides of the ocean in their work.
Until the mid1980s, American comics were imported to Britain or
reprinted in special British editions (for instance, under the auspices of Mar-
vel UK which also produced original material) without a corresponding
export of UK comics back to the United States. In this way, the importance
of the work done in the UK prior to the emergence of this joint culture has
largely been ignored, marketed under the auspices of a genius creator such
as Alan Moore, or considered irrelevant in commentaries of the period. Con-
sider how Alan Moores starting work on Swamp Thing is described in the
corresponding Wikipedia article: Moore, then relatively unknown, had at
that time only written several stories for 2000AD, Warrior and Marvel UK
(my emphasis). Moores Swamp Thing is signicant because it represents the
*Cf. Pumphrey 12, 13. Since 1950 the old-established comics have been joined by many new ones.
Undoubtedly the most interesting newcomers are those produced by Hulton Press Eagle, Girl, Robin
and Swift. These comics were planned by Marcus Morris, a clerg yman, who, although new to the busi-
ness, induced the Hulton Press (also new to comics publishing ) to produce Eagle. These new comics
have been enormously successful. They are interesting because they use a technique new to British comics.
It is the technique of the American comic, which makes the picture tell the story. Captions are reduced
to a minimum and are placed in balloons that emerge from the characters mouths. The traditional
British comic has captions under the pictures and some balloons. The new technique integrates the pic-
tures, making the story develop from frame to frame.

The exception here is Roger Sabins excellent Adult Comics: An Introduction, which demonstrates
the historical importance of 2000AD and the Britpack.
12. 2000AD (Little) 143
rst mainstream comic for decades to consistently not be submitted for

approval to the industry regulator: the Comics Code. To suggest that this
rejection of the censors in American publishing would come from an
unknown, untested and relatively inexperienced comics creator understates
the professionalism and market awareness of the editors at DC Comics. It
was because of the quality and sophistication of Moores early work that DC
were prepared to take such a step.
In fact industry insiders acknowledge that comics such as 2000AD in
the UK were radically ahead of the United States at the time, yet fail to under-
stand the landscape from which they emerged. Tom DeFalco, editor-in-chief
of Marvel Comics from 1987 to 1994, suggests that the maturity of European
comics was precisely due to their lack of a comics code:
In Europe, they never had the McCarthy era that we had. They never had that
1950s era. Consequently, their publications never twisted toward just the chil-
drens medium. Consequently they have a whole adult comic-book industry
over there and there are regular monthly and weekly comic books, for adults
[McCue and Bloom 94].
DeFalco clearly is misinformed. Comics on both sides of the Atlantic have

experienced censorship in the post-war years and onward. John A. Lent indi-
cates that censorship in the 1950s was a very international affair with at least
20 countries engaging in their own version of the campaign against American
horror comics (9). In Britain and France the censorship of the 1950s mani-
fested itself at a governmental level, rather than through industry self-regu-
lation, with laws passed in both countries specically limiting the content of
childrens comic books. British censors were at least as severe, if not more so,
than their American equivalents, especially seeing as Britain lacks constitu-
tional rst amendment guarantees. Censorship in Britain continued into the
late 1990s, one example being the consistent attacks under obscenity charges
suffered by Manchester publishing house Savoy for their Lord Haw Haw and
Meng and Ecker comics (cf. Mitchell).
However, British creators response to limitation of the content of their
work was distinct enough to those in the United States to bring about the
changes that led DeFalco to call comics such as 2000AD adult material.
Led by Pat Mills and John Wagner, British comics excelled at nding ways
to bring out serious issues under a guise seemingly ippant enough to slip
past the conservative guardians of public taste. The learning experience of the
boys weekly Action, which collapsed under pressure from censors in 1976, had
been a catalyst for the less directly controversial approach of 2000AD (Barker
1989, 3). The signicant difference was the insistence of 2000AD editors and
writers, Mills and Wagner, to produce material that was political, instead of
simply more realistic, and their vehicle was childrens comics even if their
audience ended up being much older.
To understand 2000AD, however, we must rst understand how its pred-
ecessor Action failed. Martin Barker states that [Action] stood at the edge of
a very radical politics and that couldnt be allowed (Barker 1990, 49). It
rufed the feathers of a status quo that was quick to challenge dissidence
wherever possible (the non-art status of comics making them an easy target).
Action showed contemporary youth getting into scrapes with malevolent
authority gures and coming out on top. It put what would now be seen as
antisocial behavior into the context of the protagonists lives. Barker states
that
[Action ran afoul of ] the renewal in the 1970s of the activities of moral pressure
groups such as Mary Whitehouses National Viewers and Listeners Association,
and the Responsible Society[...]. These two groups were the most vociferous,
representing the kind of new moralism associated by many with the rise to
power of Margaret Thatcher [1990, 7].
Action was violent, subversive and, more importantly (according to Steve Mac-
Manus, editor of 2000AD in the 1980s), the rst working class comic (Barker
1990, 6). The moral pressure groups backed up by the right-wing press didnt
know what to make of it, and the calls for censorship were initially matched
by a grudging respect for Actions commercial success.
This respect, however, evaporated in what Barker identies as the key
moment in the campaign against the comic. In the story Look out for Lefty,
the footballer protagonists punk girlfriend Angie just happened to throw a
coke bottle from the terraces at another player at a particularly inopportune
moment:
This all happened at a time when football violence was once again hitting the
news headlines, culminating in a riot at a friendly between Aston Villa and
Glasgow Rangers. Seizing the opportunity, the critics went for the throat. The
football league and leading ofcials were primed to complain: World Cup ref-
eree Jack Taylor denounces comic! [Barker 1990, 7].
Yet it was not that the comic simply showed football violence; it was a
girls involvement that caused the real controversy. Thatcherite social rheto-
ric and the rise of the moral pressure groups were about preserving the tra-
ditional role of the family in a changing society. Stuart Hall and Martin
Jacques state that this included the centrality of womens domestic role (Hall
and Jacques 14). Angie challenged not only this idea of the domestic role of
women, but also the basic concepts of femininity that such an idea is founded
on. Angie was as tough, as foul-mouthed and aggressive as any of the men in
the strip and had a relationship with the protagonist, Lefty, that worked on
12. 2000AD (Little) 145
an equal basis. If any one character was the step too far for Action, it was Angie,
and it would not be until Evey in Moore and Lloyds V for Vendetta and Moore
and Gibsons Halo Jones that a female character with such vim would feature
in the pages of British comics.
Angie is a profoundly political character and marks the shift in politi-
cal terrain that was going on throughout the 1970s and 1980s. The historical
framing of politics around questions of class, which was so central to Action,
was subtly changing to a new radicalism that embraced at its heart questions
of gender, race and anti-authoritarianism. These tropes, which would become
established political touchstones in 2000AD and lter into American comics,
are one of the signicant changes in comics of the 1980s. Yet in mid1970s
Britain, Angie was too much, too soon for an establishment that still saw boys
comics in the mode of the 1950s comic Eagle, which emphasized traditional
Christian values and militaristic virtues.*
Nevertheless, Action paved the way for its inuential successor. 2000AD
exceeded the political vigor of its precursor without attracting the same kind
of criticism. When something is censored, it is brought materially into the
political sphere, but it must then change its approach. As Gershon Legman
describes the process,
The censors unequivocal You must not! is seldom answered with an uncom-
promising I will! Ashamed to oppose the censors morality, and afraid to con-
travene his authority, the writers rst reaction is to evade the censorship, to see
what can be sneaked through, what can be gotten away with, what can be dis-
guised just enough to pass the censor but not so much as to escape the audi-
ence[...]. [But] having buffooned to the end of the censorship tether and it is
short the only recourse for both artist and audience is transvaluation, dis-
placement, the siphoning off of the suppressible urge for expression elsewhere
[Barker 1984, 75].
2000AD was the response of British creators to the politicization of their
medium. Its success rests upon its ability to manage issues of censorship,
bring in an older readership and consistently question the authoritarianism
and values of the new status quo, particularly as it moved into the 1980s. This
was achieved through three main changes from Action.
Firstly, as a commercial response to its growing popularity in lm,
2000AD tapped into a long tradition of political science ction. This is Leg-
*Interestingly, Dan Dare, the main character in Eagle, featured in 2000AD, yet was too conservative
for the tone of the magazine and was eventually dropped.

This is not to say 2000AD did not attract any censorship or media criticism. The Guardian news-
paper was initially particularly harsh in its criticism. Moreover, having learned lessons on Action, the
senior management were far more cautious about strips that could attract controversy. A famous exam-
ple is a strip featuring a war between McDonalds and Burger King that was dropped due to fears of a
lawsuit.
mans transvaluation and displacement: the movement of content into the

fantastic in order to deprive the censors of a direct line of attack. Within
20th-century literature we can identify a clear chain of such literary practice
that leads from Yevgeny Zamyatins We through George Orwell, Aldous Hux-
ley, Philip K. Dick, Ursula LeGuin and through the 1980s up to the present
with writers like William Gibson and Neal Stephenson. In 2000AD that
merger of politics and science ction made its way into the comics medium.
The magazines writers and artists used the paradigm of the future to play out
current concerns and possible teleologies of contemporary social practices. As
Adam Roberts puts it: SF does not project us into the future: it relates to
us stories about our present (Roberts 35).
2000ADs politics was always at the forefront of the writers and artists
minds. In a recent interview for the BBC online magazine, writer Alan Grant
makes this explicit:
Many of the stories we wrote were taken from the headlines of the newspapers.
We just put a futuristic spin on them. There were genuine social problems, par-
ticularly from the Thatcher days. It was obvious to us that Britain and the
whole world was turning into a right-wing society [qtd. after Roher].
Science ction stories were less offensive to the critics on the right who
could not see just how political they were. They failed to credit comics with
enough sophistication to see that the fantastical environments were allegories
for the changing society of the 1980s.* Pat Mills explains this:
On one level 2000AD was almost a retreat, because Id been so badly mauled on
Action, it was like, ok, lets go into science ction. We can say theyre all robots,
mutants and its all in the future, so it doesnt actually matter and thats what we
did [Resonance FM].
Thus science ction in 2000AD can be seen as secondary to the political con-
tent: it was a vehicle to avoid censorship as much as an end in itself.
The second key difference between Action and 2000AD was the latter
magazines mode of address. Barbara Walls distinctions between single address
(targeted specically at an audience of either children or adults), double
address (at children or adults at different times throughout the text) and dual
address (at children and adults at the same time) are very useful to help make
sense of this here (cf. Wall). One of the key changes in 2000AD was its increas-
ing adoption of the dual address mode. Unlike Action, which despite its polit-
ical awareness was very much focused on its target demographic, 2000AD
started to engage in narratives that, while internally logical to any ten-year-
old reader, would be peppered with references that make sense only to a far
*Ironically it then attracted criticism from the left, most notably from the Guardian newspaper, who
expressed outrage at its simplistic bad guys portrayal of the Soviet Union.
12. 2000AD (Little) 147
more adult audience. Dual address became the primary mode of the comic
and gave the writers and artists a framework to explore increasingly complex
issues in a style that did not alienate its younger readers.
This complexity was necessary to come to terms with the third factor in
2000ADs success: its ability to adapt to the changing political milieu of the
late 1970s and 1980s. Stuart Hall describes this change as the disintegration
of the left in the fallout of Thatchers phenomenal and unlikely success. Instead
of a unied class-based politics with its teleologies in socialism, the rise of
the new right forced the left to instead consider questions about moral con-
duct, about gender and sexuality, about race and ethnicity, about ecological
and environmental issues, about cultural and national identity (Hall 8).
This sociopolitical shift can be seen in the movement from Action to
2000AD and beyond into the comics that British creators would go on to pub-
lish in the United States. As we have seen, Action was rmly positioned by its
writers and artists as a working-class comic. This is a direct reection of the
politics of its conceptual founder, Pat Mills. His work for Battle (a weekly
war comic) and in some cases for 2000AD relies explicitly on representing the
tensions between the classes. Mills serial Charleys War for Battle magazine
reframed World War One as a conict about middle-class ofcers sending
working-class foot soldiers over the top to their death: a conict he portrays
as far more acute than the one between Britain and Germany. Likewise, in
his rst ABC Warriors stories in 2000AD, we see exactly the same scenario
except that the foot soldiers are now robots and the ofcers ght through bat-
tleeld simulations rather than from a bunker out of range of the artillery.
Yet Mills also helped start the new style of politics found in 2000AD.
Nemesis the Warlock was his take on race, religion and cultural imperialism;
and Slaine tapped into the growing popularity of the New Age movement with
its interest in Neo-Paganism and the ancient myths, religions and folklore of
the British Isles, just as it was coming into direct conict with Thatchers gov-
ernment. Nevertheless, Mills work rarely captured the fragmentation of tra-
ditional political positions. His stories usually had an internal consistency
that made for a good narrative, but presented a Manichean good guys/bad
guys politics that failed to represent either the coalition nature of the
Thatcherite project or the collapse of the traditional categories on the left.
One story that managed to truly engage with the spirit of the times, and
did so exceptionally well, was Alan Moore and Ian Gibsons The Ballad of Halo
Jones. This comic clearly demonstrates the three primary reasons for 2000ADs
success. It is a sophisticated text published in three separate storylines or
books between the years 1984 and 1986. The comic charts the adventures of
an 18-year-old girl (Halo Jones) from the Hoop, a poverty reduction dis-
trict of New York a giant ghetto moored off Manhattan in the Atlantic
Ocean. The three books narrate distinct periods of her life: the rst focusing
on life in the Hoop, the second depicting Halos rst year as a waitress aboard
a luxury space cruise ship, and the third showing her as an infantrywoman
in a brutal imperialist conict. The science ction setting functions effectively
as a stand-alone universe with various details adding to the effect. From the
political struggle between dolphins and humans, to the concept that this
50th-century setting is a turbulent time in history being studied from the even
more distant future, to the strength of Gibsons visualizations of a crumbling
society that despite its technology is collapsing in upon itself, all help to cre-
ate a credible universe for Halo to explore.
This consistency enables Moores writing to engage in a steady stream
of commentary upon the politics of the 1980s. Not all of this is directly anal-
ogous with the changes in Britain and the United States during the rise of
the new right. Instead, Moore uses historical criticism to contextualize con-
temporary concerns. Said criticism is also key to the dual address mode that
is prevalent throughout the comic. While the narrative would make sense to
a younger reader through its internal consistency, the extra-textual references
are directly aimed at an older readership. The conict in the Tarantula Neb-
ula, for instance, is clearly an interpretation of the Vietnam War.
There is a second kind of dual address at work here, too. Jones has alter-
nately been described as possibly the rst feminist hero in comics and as an
everywoman, both of which fail to accurately capture what Jones meant for
a comic like 2000AD (Wikipedia Halo Jones). The 1980s audience of
2000AD was still predominantly male, and while Jones is a believable female
character, to position her as a feminist or a neutral cypher for women in gen-
eral is not really the point. She sits on a line between being an attractive,
although not overly sexual, female action heroine, designed to appeal to men,
and yet has complex and believable relationships with the women around her
that owe much to the girls comics of the time. In this way she functions to
create a second level of dual address, that between men and women. This may
seem like a fairly simplistic argument about gender, but it is a function of the
marketing expectations of the editors. The comic is carefully balanced in its
gendered address, so much so and so well achieved that these commercial
considerations may not be immediately obvious to a readership meeting it
for the rst time in a collected edition. Halo was 2000ADs rst female pro-
tagonist and as such was carefully managed as a project to engage more women
with the comic, but without alienating its male core market.* The question
*In an interview Ian Gibson suggests that the editors were concerned that the lack of violence in the
second book on the cruise ship would put off 15-year-old boys, and thus more action was injected in the
form of an attempted hijacking (see Twomey).
12. 2000AD (Little) 149
of gender is central to the third way in which The Ballad of Halo Jones exem-
plies the success of the 2000AD formula. This is the fragmentary approach
to politics, specically the alignment between different contemporary issues
without recourse to a unied ideology. It can be seen in the way the comic
addresses the question of poverty as a direct response to the politics of the
era, entwined in its portrayal of women.
Poverty is one of the main focuses of the rst book and returns as a key
theme in the third. In the second, it is conspicuous through its absence, as
Halo lives among the mega-rich. The rst book, based entirely in the Hoop,
depicts a ghettoized society made up predominantly of women and minori-
ties: riots are an everyday occurrence. If the riot forecast says ne, then
dress for Armageddon, as Rodice, Halos best friend, says to her on a rou-
tine yet perilous shopping expedition (Moore and Gibson 24). In uniting the
unemployed, women and ethnic minorities, Moore and Gibson were identi-
fying the main groups that were hardest hit by Thatchers rise to power. The
governments shift from the social democratic consensus of state ownership
of major industries to free markets and monetarism meant that the economic
emphasis had moved from full employment to low ination. One effect of
this was the highest level of unemployment since the great depression. More-
over, the impact was spread unevenly throughout society, as with the new
rights emphasis on domesticity and its narrow denitions of British culture,
single women and minorities (as well as skilled laborers in manufacturing
areas) soon found themselves at risk of becoming part of a permanent under-
class. When race riots exploded across the UK in the early 1980s, Thatcher
declared that the problem had nothing to do with either race or unemploy-
ment, but was a problem of public order (Gamble 117). Moreover, the demo-
nization of single mothers in the later years of Thatchers government is
foreshadowed here.
Halos environment reects the teleology of this situation, encapsulat-
ing how, rather than dealing with the problem, the Conservative government
chose to suppress it, changing the role of the police from crime detection and
prevention to an institution meant to preserve social order. The Hoop is a
physical form of social control, and the shopping trip that dominates book
one demonstrates just how effective it is. Yet while the comic is clearly attack-
ing the potential outcome of such a system, it is ambivalent about the way
to deal with it. Jones escapes from the Hoop, but only through the internal
logic of a Thatcherite morality. Braving wealthy vigilante groups who kill the
rights-less hoopsiders for sport, she leaves her connes legitimately and goes
begging for work. That she then nds traditional womens work as a wait-
ress and escapes without aid from the state makes the message extremely
difcult to see as a form of political resistance.
There is a resignation to the injustices of society in the comic despite

a consciousness of its failings. Jones is not a revolutionary; she is an ordi-
nary woman making the most of a bad situation, playing by the rules and
refusing to be a victim. This is why we can question the description of her
as a feminist: she operates entirely within the bounds of a repressive social
milieu, making no attempt to change the political parameters that constrain
her life. Her escape from the Hoop becomes a success story of the system,
not a radical step against it. She does not challenge the options available to
her as a woman, but accepts and operates within the range of choices she is
given.
The Hoop becomes a science ction parody of Thatcherisms nightmare
scenario: a vision of how a society could cope with the creation of a massive
group of the permanently poor. The extreme measures Halo must go to in
escaping the ghetto and the excesses of the world of the rich she joins aboard
the Clara Pandy bring into focus the basic injustice of such a system. In this
way, this vision of the future becomes a lens used to exaggerate an issue in
order to render it into conceptual caricature. To suggest a way to break that
system, to change it, would undo the portrait of this society. It would make
its injustices trivial if they were easily resolved. Instead, the world of Halo
Jones stands complete and open for a reader to interpret, understand and
reconnect to the 1980s Britain to which it refers.
This is part of a wider trend in British popular culture in the 1980s, where
parody and pastiche became central ways of raising public awareness of polit-
ical issues. Dick Hebdige suggests this was an enabling technique that gave
politics back to the consumers of popular culture:
Pastiche and collage can be valorised as forms which enable consumers to
become actual or potential producers, processors and subjects of meaning rather
than the passive bearers of pregiven messages [211].
In the aftermath of the failure of the radical counterculture projects of

the 1960s and 1970s and the triumph of Thatcher-Reaganism, comic books
became a site where readers could re-engage with texts that appealed directly
to their experience of the political in everyday life.
Although the three ways 2000AD developed this kind of political dis-
course from its predecessor, Action, are signicant within comics, it should
also be mentioned that the changes outside of comics helped to a large extent
as well. As markets and choice became the key words in economic life, cen-
sorship and government intervention in a commercial activity such as pub-
lishing were increasingly frowned upon. This was perhaps one of the areas
that exposed the paradoxes that sat at the very heart of Thatchers alliance
between economic liberals and social conservatives. If 2000ADs creators got
12. 2000AD (Little) 151
smarter and sharper in the wake of censorship, so their censors found that
their calls for tasteful media were often at odds with public demands.
Nevertheless, the sorts of methods and techniques identied here became
common in Anglo-American comics. The types of narrative pioneered in
2000AD are not the sole inuence on the changes in comics of the 1980s, but
the magazines resonance can be felt in such a variety of celebrated works rang-
ing from Frank Millers Batman: The Dark Knight Returns or Moore and Gib-
bons Watchmen in the 1980s right up to contemporary comics like Mark
Millar and Bryan Hitchs The Ultimates, Bill Willingham and Mark Buck-
inghams Fables or Warren Ellis and Ben Templesmiths Fell. This is without
mentioning the vast array of titles now written or drawn by British creators
for whom 2000AD remains the key starting point in their career as comics
professionals.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The Ballad of Halo Jones. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=The_Bal-
lad_of_Halo_Jones&oldid=194038938 (14 September 2007).
Barker, Martin. A Haunt of Fears: The Strange History of the British Horror Comics Campaign.
London: Pluto, 1984.
_____. Action: The Story of a Violent Comic. London: Titan, 1990.
_____. Comics: Ideolog y, Power and the Critics. Manchester and New York: Manchester Uni-
versity Press, 1989.
Dumbrell, John. A Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations in the Cold War and After.
London and New York: Macmillan, 2001.
Gamble, Andrew. The Free Economy and the Strong State. 2nd edition. London: Macmillan,
1994.
Hall, Stuart. The Hard Road to Renewal: Thatcherism and the Crisis of the Left. London and
New York: Verso, 1988.
Hall, Stuart, and Martin Jacques. Introduction. The Politics of Thatcherism, edited by Stu-
art Hall and Martin Jacques. London: Lawrence and Wishart/Marxism Today, 1983.
Hebdige, Dick. Hiding in the Light: On Images and Things. London and New York: Rout-
ledge, 1998.
McCue, Greg, and Clive Bloom. Dark Knights: The New Comics in Context. London: Pluto,
1993.
Mills, Pat. Im Ready for My Close-Up: 2000AD Then.... http://podcasts.resonancefm.
com/archives/620 (22 September 2007).
Mitchell, David. The Horror of It All. An Introduction to Savoy Comics. Savoy Publish-
ing Online. http://www.savoy.abel.co.uk/ (14 May 2007).
Moore, Alan, and Ian Gibson. The Ballad of Halo Jones. Oxford: Rebellion, 2005.
Pells, Richard. Not Like Us: How Europeans Have Loved, Hated, and Transformed American
Culture Since World War II. New York: Basic Books, 1997.
Pumphrey, George H. Childrens Comics: A Guide for Parents and Teachers. London: The
Epworth Press, 1955.
Roberts, Adam. Science Fiction. London and New York: Routledge, 2000.
Roher, Finlo. 30 Years of the Future. BBC News Online. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/mag-
azine/6390731.stm (14 May 2007).
Sabin, Roger. Adult Comics: An Introduction. London and New York: Routledge, 1993.
Swamp Thing. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Swamp_Thing&old
id=200063647 (14 September 2007).
Twomey, Sen. The Ballad of Halo Jones The Creation of an All-Time Classic. http://
homepage.eircom.net/~twoms/halo1.htm (24 May 2007).
Wall, Barbara. The Narrators Voice: The Dilemma of Childrens Fiction. London: Macmillan,
1991.
13
Whatever Happened to
All the Heroes? British
Perspectives on Superheroes
Karin Kukkonen and Anja Mller-Wood
In the late 1980s the superhero comic was past its Golden and its Silver
Age. Truth, justice and the American way, the catchphrase of Superman,
had lost its credibility, and Spider-Mans mantra with great power comes great
responsibility had become a triviality. Things had changed. Scholars pro-
claimed a new age of superhero comics, which still lacks a common name in
comics studies. It is an age of disillusionment, an age of irony, an age of ques-
tion marks.
Two works are generally held to mark the beginning of this new age:
Frank Millers The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moores Watchmen, both
published in 1986. One is written by an American, the other by an English-
man. While the social and political situation in the United States after Viet-
nam and Watergate and the countrys position as one of the antagonists of
the Cold War certainly are an important factor in the development of super-
hero comics, it should not be overlooked that many of the seminal works in
superhero comics at that time were not written by U.S. authors.
The Second British Invasion* of U.S. popular culture took place on
the eld of superhero comics in the late 1980s when Britons like Alan Moore
and Neil Gaiman wrote ground-breaking works like Watchmen or The Sand-
man. Some time later, Warren Ellis, Grant Morrison and others followed to
complete the invasion party. These British authors turned out to be a lot less
reverent toward U.S. superheroes than their U.S. counterparts. For example,
in Warren Ellis Planetary 2, To Be in England, in the Summertime, we have
*See Berry for the term Second British Invasion.
153
a decrepit superhero who looks like a rabid Superman crying: I didnt want
to nd out that instead of getting my powers from a transcendent scientist-
mentor, I was grown from the DNA of Aryan super-athletes and Hitlers per-
sonal sex midgets! Neil Gaimans The Sandman features a superhero whose
only powers are delusions of grandeur (see The Dolls House). These British
authors meet the U.S. superheroes with little respect. They see them from an
outside perspective. Even though the United States and Britain share a com-
mon language, the cultures of the two countries are vastly different. When it
comes to superhero comics, British readers and authors may have read just as
many comics as their U.S. counterparts, but the heroes are not theirs: Cap-
tain America, Superman or Wonder Woman would never be mistaken for
subjects of Queen Elizabeth, just as much as James Bond is no CIA agent.
Due to these cultural differences, British authors have a more distanced
perspective on superheroes than their U.S. counterparts. We believe that this
different perspective and its inclusion into the superhero discourse through
the inuential works of British authors is a decisive factor in the development
of this new age of superheroes. In this essay we will trace different strategies
by which British authors bring their own distant perspective into the dis-
course on superheroes and, thus, foster an atmosphere of disillusionment,
irony and question marks.
ALAN MOORES WATCHMEN

The tombs of the past have been dismantled....
Alan Moore, Planetary Consciousness
Despite its restrained aesthetics of nine panels a page and its scheme of
primary colors, both of which are strongly reminiscent of the classical super-
hero comics, Watchmen marks a clear and thorough break with the traditional
image of the superhero. Watchmen not only shows its heroes with all their
private troubles and neuroses, which is nothing special since the Silver Age
and its denizens Spider-Man, Hulk or The Thing; the comic moreover ques-
tions the justication of superheroes to take the destiny of society into their
own hands. Who Watches the Watchmen? is one of the central questions
of the comic. What are the checks and balances for superheroes? And what
happens when society rejects its champions? Watchmen answers: Then super-
heroes have to accept that they do not act on behalf of others but rather to
live out their own fantasies and neuroses and to please their own vanities.
Watchmen, and this is the main point here, questions the mythological
status of superheroes. Roland Barthes introduced the notion of the contem-
porary myth as a systme semiologique scondaire (687), a secondary semi-
13. Whatever Happened to All the Heroes? (Kukkonen and Mller-Wood) 155
otic system that seems consistent in itself and that renders cultural construc-
tions natural. The myth of the superhero as the defender of society is not
questioned: Superheroes are good folk. They defend the weak and wretched
against evil machinations and doomsday devices. To apply a term the Rus-
sian cultural and literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin developed in Problems of
Dostoevskys Poetics, the superhero myth is monologic. There is only one per-
spective to the superhero and that is all. Alan Moore now manages to break
this myth by giving us different perspectives in Watchmen. Moore employs
narrative strategies that provide the reader with different perspectives at the
same time. This strategy, which Bakhtin calls polyphonic, is the opposite of
the monologic storytelling of classical superhero narratives, and Moore
shrewdly employs the special capabilities of the medium for this task: The
different modes of perception that comics address through image and text
allow the medium to present different, even conicting, information at the
same time and, thus, provide its readers with different perspectives. Time and
again, Moore juxtaposes the dialogue of one storyline with the imagery from
another in the same panel: the newsvendors rants on the state of the world
interlace with the action of the comic his customer reads. Similarly the retelling
of a joke in the snippets of Rorschachs diary serves as a commentary on images
from the life of The Comedian (II, 26f.). We have a TV show where the phys-
ical prowess of public superhero Adrian Veidt is celebrated and the everyday
superheroes Dan and Laurie become intimate in their living room (VII, 13ff.).
The discourses of physical achievement and love-making, of public display
and the most private of experiences, are juxtaposed and start commenting on
each other both on the level of image and written text. Different angles put
each other into perspective.
A second characteristic of Moores polyphony in Watchmen is that he does
not take a stance as an author. Moore likes to stress in interviews how averse
he is to baby-bird moralising, to feed his audience with his opinions (see
Eno and Csawza). He does not favor one particular perspective, which mono-
logic storytelling would do, but stands back and, for example, lets his char-
acters discuss whether Veidts killing of 5 million people to bring about world
peace was justied (XII, 9ff.).
Moores third strategy to break the mythic coherence of the superhero
is pointing out the different hero discourses that interact in his superheroes
identity. The character of Adrian Veidt is a good case in point: Veidt is also
known as Ozymandias, the Greek name of Rameses II. This points to the dis-
course of ancient god kings on which Veidts role model Alexander the Great
fashioned himself. In the context of English literature, Ozymandias refers to
a sonnet of the same name by Percy Bysshe Shelley, which uses the fragmented
remains of a gigantic statue of the pharaoh to reect on overreaching on a
grand scale. Veidt also strikes us with his Nietzschean belief in the power of
will, the Riefenstahl aesthetics of his TV performance and the gigantic inte-
rior of his ofces. Associative images of an Aryan bermensch are thus evoked.
The English translation of bermensch, Superman, and the discourse con-
nected to this particular superhero comes into play when we learn that Veidt
likes to retreat to his own Castle of Solitude in the Arctic wastes, just like
Shuster and Siegels comic book hero.
Alan Moore thus breaks the myth of the superheroes by providing his
readers with different perspectives, not imposing his authorial stance on their
opinion and pointing out the historicity of the superhero discourse.
WARREN ELLIS PLANETARY AND NEXTWAVE

stones taken to pave a way into whatever awaits
in the comic elds future.
Alan Moore, Planetary Consciousness
Alan Moores countryman Warren Ellis continues, it seems, with Plan-
etary where Watchmen left off and goes well beyond it. Ellis keeps the distinc-
tion of discourses and a plurality of perspectives in Planetary. Still, he strives
to reintegrate the centrifugal elements Moore identies, the stones of the dis-
mantled tombs of the past, into a new coherent structure, a (possible) path
into the comic elds future. In Planetary, Ellis develops the structure of The
Snowake, a myriad of different worlds of popular culture that are all indi-
vidual and all have their own perspective but still are connected in this over-
arching structure.
The stories of Planetary lead readers into the different realms of popu-
lar culture. Every issue has a special theme, be it Japanese monsters (Plane-
tary 1: Island), Hong Kong lms of the heroic bloodshed genre (Planetary
1: Dead Gunghters) or James Bond espionage glamour (Planetary 2: Cold
World). As the Planetary team moves through these different worlds, Ellis
can put them into perspective. James Bond stories are one way to contextu-
alize the world, superhero comics another (Planetary 2: Magic and Loss).
While Moore juxtaposes the perspectives of individual characters, Ellis con-
trasts different contexts of popular culture.
In the story Night on Earth (Planetary: Crossing Worlds), Ellis brings
the historicity of the superhero, already implicit in Moores Watchmen, to the
point : We follow the adventures of Elijah Snow, Jakita Wagner and The
Drummer through different levels of reality, where they meet the different
incarnations of Batman through the decades. After an encounter with the
camp Batman we know from the 1960s TV series (identiable both through
imagery and manner of speech), they run, among other versions, into the Bat-
man from Dark Knight Returns and the upstanding 1970s Batman until they
can contain the madman John Black, who has caused what Ellis calls a par-
tial universe collapse. Ellis storytelling is deconstructive; it destroys the
mythic naturalness of Batman being one identiable character. On the other
hand, Ellis multiverse structure links these different layers and gives us a
coherent background.
Where Moores Watchmen dismantles the tombs of the past, Ellis tries
to pave a way into the comic elds future through reassembling the individ-
ual stones he nds in the plentiful quarry of popular culture. Both authors,
however, bring a foreign perspective to what is possibly the most American
of all comics genres and, thus, deal severe blows to the nave naturalness of
the U.S. superhero.
Ellis has recently continued his deconstruction of the superhero genre
in the 12-issue Nextwave series published by Marvel an explosion of vio-
lence and color peppered with Pythonesque absurdities from which even the
last trace of cool still discernible in Planetary has been culled. In Ellis own
words, Nextwave is an absolute distillation of the superhero genre. No plot
lines, characters, emotions, nothing whatsoever. Its people posing in the street
for no good reason. It is people getting kicked, and then exploding. It is a
pure comic book, and I will ght anyone who says otherwise. And afterwards,
they will explode (Weisbrod). This is also the gist of the comics morality-
disavowing motto, healing America by beating people up, and a line in the
series own theme song (which can be downloaded from the internet): its
like Shakespeare but with lots more punching.*
The Nextwave squad consists of a cast of superheroes pilfered from the
Marvel universe: Monica Rambeau, a female Captain Marvel (and a black
one to boot); Aaron Stack, a spoof of Machine Man; Elsa Bloodstone, the
daughter of Hyborian monster hunter Ulysses Bloodstone; The Captain, who
recalls any previous superhero named Captain; and Tabitha Smith, who is
modeled on Boom Boom from New Mutants and Meltdown in X-Force. Real-
izing that their new client a shady multinational called The Beyond Cor-
poration is a cover of S.I.L.E.N.T., a terrorist cell that Nextwave used to
ght, the agents quit their employer H.A.T.E., not without having rst stolen
a trusty Shockwave Rider for their missions. Apart from clashing with Fin
Fang Foom (a Marvel lindworm in purple underpants lled with no geni-
tals), a corrupt-police-ofcer-turned-car-devouring Goliath and the Broccoli
Men, Beyonds eerie plant-androids, the squad is also busy ghting their for-
*http://www.marvel.com/publishing/stories/nextwave/NextWaveFinal.mp3
As explained by Ellis himself in an afterword in the book edition of the series.

mer boss, Dirk Anger. This character who is, of course, modeled on Nick
Fury is an erratic psychopath whose arsenal contains deadly Koala bears and
homicide crabs weapons too ridiculous to pose a serious threat to Ellis dis-
respectful protagonists. At the end of issue six, we see him, la Norman Bates,
a whimpering wreck with a penchant for his mothers clothes.
If Ellis takes his superheroes down a peg or two by reducing their ene-
mies to absurdity, he is also busy undermining the Nextwave squads own
superhero credentials (without, however, diminishing their astounding pow-
ers and hence attractiveness for a comic artist). He does so mainly by extend-
ing the historical perspective already introduced in Planetary by turning the
series overarching archaeological conceit against the Nextwave protagonists.
This happens for instance through soap operastyle ashbacks to scenes from
the characters past, which shatter the homogeneous identities they like to
project. Monica Rambeaus repeated smug comments on the absurdity of the
agents tasks and their use of violence (when I ran the Avengers we didnt
kill people [19]) are challenged when she is shown as a child, incinerating a
stray dog by giving it a brief gamma laser glance. Monica Rambeau, leader
of the Nextwave Squad, we are told elsewhere, lies all the time (108). The
Captain, we learn from a similar ashback, received his superpowers from
aliens who had discovered him in a state of absolute inebriation in a dark alley-
way. To return the favor, he immediately tries his new powers on them and
then is sick all over the altruistic aliens as he bends down over their prostrate
bodies to search for their credit cards. Aaron Stack, nally, is one of a dis-
continued series of robots, some of which were deployed, though rather unsuc-
cessfully, as priests visiting the elderly. Despite this fact Stacks hubris (Im
a unique robot intellect, he protests in one panel [101]) makes him the per-
fect butt of his teams practical jokes (if not plain brutality) whom he insists
on addressing (as he thinks, dismissively) as eshy ones.
In contrast to counterfactual postmodernism, which celebrates such acts
of revisionism as a political strategy (see especially Hutcheon 6292), Ellis
uses these ashbacks to highlight the absurdity of the characters claims. Their
supernatural powers are offset by their grotesque personalities, which are
shaped by baser instincts and desires rather than absolute virtue. But it is not
only Ellis agents that are grotesque, but also the world in which they live and
work is Rabelaisian,* fusing the hypermodern with the visceral, the techno-
*The comic here recalls the material bodily principle as described by Mikhail Bakhtin in Rabelais and
His World: In grotesque realism [...] the bodily element is deeply positive. It is presented not in a pri-
vate, egoistic form, severed from other spheres of life, but as something universal, representing all the
people. As such it is opposed to severance from the material and bodily roots of the world; it makes no
pretense to renunciation of the earthy, or independence of the earth and the body. We repeat: the body
and bodily life have here a cosmic and at the same time an all-peoples character; this is not the body
and its physiolog y in the modern sense of these words, because it is not individualized. The material
logical and the disgusting. Here, towns bedecked with towering skyscrapers
have names like Abcess, North Dakota and Sink City, Illinois. Of course, these
names insinuate the even more abyssal underworld the superheroes have to
ght Fin Fang Foom, for instance, whose gastric tract becomes the site of
Aaron Stacks mission against the monster when it is sweeping the city of
Abcess. Although this miasmic milieu seems to provide a contrastive back-
drop against which Stacks transhuman abilities emerge with particular clar-
ity, these abilities are turned against themselves, as Stack transmogries into
something akin to a Swiss army knife in order to whip up the contents of Fin
Fang Fooms stomach.
Despite their triumphs, the agents remain shallow and supercial. The
elegiac style of recent American superhero comics with their messianic mes-
sages and weighty dialogue (consider for instance Mark Waids Kingdom Come
[1996], which eerily anticipated some of the visual heroism that accompanied
the events of 11 September 2001) is here replaced by at and stylized charac-
ters whose juvenile jargon and imbecilic chatter is meant to annoy. Always
on her mobile phone gossiping about doubtful personalities like Jessica
(Simpson) and Paris (Hilton), Tabitha Smith sounds like a contemporary
American teenager.
These reductions also allow Ellis to cash in on cultural stereotypes per-
vasive in both UK and U.S. culture. A running joke is Tabithas ongoing
squabble with the stalwart British character Elsa Bloodstone, even at the most
inappropriate moments for instance, as the two are ghting Angers deadly
Samurai androids. Upon Elsas matter-of-fact count: I make it six [Samu-
rais] each, Tabitha retorts: Dont you try and impress me with your English
counting. You know I growed up [sic] in a trailer park (117). This clash of
old and new world may be read as a tongue-in-cheek hint at the Second
British Invasion of the American comic scene, in progress since the 1980s.
The remarks are aimed at taking some of the sting out of this popular cul-
ture conict, but Ellis here also suggests that self-deprecating humor might
be the only way of rejuvenating American comic art. For that to happen,
however, superheroes must come down to earth, as it were.
In chapters ve and six of the rst volume, Ellis takes this idea quite lit-
erally. Out on yet another mission, the Nextwave squad lands on the Beyond
Corporations war garden the outdoor plant where the corporation grows
their vegetable androids, the Broccoli Men. As the agents are busy destroy-
bodily principle is contained not in the biological individual, not in the bourgeois ego, but in the peo-
ple, a people who are continually growing and renewed [...]. This exaggeration has a positive, assertive
character. The leading themes of these images of bodily life are fertility, growth, and a brimming-over
abundance. Manifestations of this life refer not to the isolated biological individual, not to the private,
egotistic economic man, but to the collective ancestral body of all the people (19).
ing the reeking creatures digging for victory, as Elsa puts it with a gesture
of jingoistic Britishness (a deeply British in-joke that might go unnoticed by
some readers)5 they are attacked from the sky with Dirk Angers spectacu-
lar weaponry. They manage the situation with the aid of their superpowers
and a bunch of shovels. The sudden intrusion of real life in the form of
gardening equipment into the plot is both absurd and disillusioning.
Whereas laser rays and other gimmicks usually serve to divert attention from
the actual violence superheroes commit, these shovels emphasize the mate-
rial humanness of Ellis protagonists. Violence is one of the unfailing features
of this comic. The penultimate panel of the rst volume depicts Stack being
given a good thrashing by the other members of the team with their shovels.
Silhouetted against the light of the setting sun, the scene of in-group vio-
lence turns into grotesque kitsch. This is also emphasized by the tag super-
imposed over the panel: nextwave is love (137). Ellis self-ironic stab at the
harmonizing function of traditional superheroes acts as a reminder of the
actual brutality underpinning their actions and those of all superheroes,
however righteous their aims.
GRANT MORRISONS VIMANARAMA
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Vimanarama 3, 45
In Ellis colorfully vibrant world of political incorrectness, there is little
space for hope and heroic grandeur sentiments which Grant Morrisons
Vimanarama, our nal example, still exploits. A three-issue series published
by Vertigo in 2005, Vimanarama tells the story of Ali, a young Muslim liv-
ing in Bradford in Northeast England, whose life is beset with numerous
problems, one of them being an impending arranged marriage. But worse is
still to come, as Ali, in the attempt to rescue his baby nephew from a gaping
hole that has mysteriously opened up underneath his fathers corner shop,
unleashes the forces of darkness, led by the terrible Ul-Shattan who
promptly sets out to destroy the human world. To the rescue comes Ben
Rama, semidivine leader of the Ultra-Hadeen, ancient superheroes engaged
in a erce struggle with the forces of darkness, but matters are complicated
when Rama falls in love with Soa, Alis future wife. Her rejection of his offer
to join him in the supernatural world as well as, implicitly, her rejection of
*The Dig for Victory campaign was started immediately at the beginning of World War II to increase
the production of agricultural goods by motivating owners of private gardens to turn them into allot-
ments. See for instance http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A2263529.
immortal superhero status almost leads Rama to perish with love sickness
and abandon his task of rescuing the planet. In the end he pulls himself
together just in time to vanquish the forces of evil.
No less colorful and stylish than Ellis Nextwave, Morrisons comic is
brimful with multicultural allusions. The title refers to the Vimana, a myth-
ical ying machine described in the ancient literature of India (and literally
meaning aircraft in Hindi), said to have existed in the Rama empire thou-
sands of years ago. The gure of Ben Rama is taken from the Hindu epic
Ramayana (c. 11 AD), where he is a popular prince considered an incarnation
of Vishnu. Other, more popular (and vague) references to Bollywood aes-
thetics and life in the North of England (where it always rains) abound.
And while Ali is a teenageEveryman complete with zip-up jersey, designer
stubble and an undened sense of ennui, his father is the kind of graying patri-
arch stereotypically associated with Asian family structures. In a trope typi-
cal for the superhero genre, Morrison stages a brief but baroque encounter
between the everyday world and the supernatural.
Essentially a post9/11 comic in inspiration,* Morrisons absurd
romance revisits the metahuman conicts depicted in, again, a comic like
Kingdom Come. Although he ultimately privileges the ordinariness to which
life returns after the apocalyptic clash of the superpowers, the benevolent
powers of Ben Rama nevertheless lead to an improvement of normal life
admittedly in a somewhat absurd way, as what he leaves the Bradford mor-
tals are fridges that run on prayer, telepathic telephones, and the sky lled
with vitamins (3, 45). Superhero magic is here reduced to the splendid icing
on the cake of normalcy. The nal panel of the third issue also reveals who
will benet most from this magic. It shows Ali in deant easy rider pose on
a space glider on the way to the moon (into which a group of teenagers had
crashed a two-man Bright Vimana). He is wearing Ramas somewhat too
bulky space uniform and imitates his laughter in an archetypal gesture of
stubborn deance in the absence of physical power. Of course, if a real space
glider is not available, a good comic book may do. Hence Vimanarama might
be read on a metalevel as a self-referential celebration of the enduring escapist
power of the comic medium, which provides alternative worlds to sweeten
life in the here and now.
Morrisons compromising take on superheroes is echoed by his equally
compromising view of multicultural Britain, where radically different lifestyles
coexist the suicidal Ali and his devout brother, Omar, the sexy Soa in hip-
*See Brady. Morrison points out in this interview that the the seed [for this comic] was planted after
9/11 when I started reading up on Muslim culture in an effort to comprehend the worlds political and
religious situation a little more clearly.
ster pants and women wearing the hijab. There are devout Muslims in the
book and there are couldnt-care-less Muslims so everyone gets a shout
(Brady). Yet despite his own afrmation of the universality of the plot,* and
the medias rather positive review of the comic, historical events give the
exclusively Pakistani context in which the comic is set a somewhat more dis-
turbing tinge.
The fact that the city of Bradford, where the comic is set, was the site
of some of the most harrowing race riots in 2001, foregrounds how idealiz-
ing Morrisons perspective is. In view of the terrorist attacks in July 2005 in
the UK, taking place only one month after the publication of the nal issue
of his comic and carried out by young men who uncannily resembled Mor-
risons Ali, the navet underpinning this ideal becomes glaring. This associ-
ation also puts in perspective his avowed aim of taking all the pomp and
high holiness of one of the worlds greatest religions [...] and turning it into
a Jack Kirby comic (Brady). One is left to wonder whether Muslim funda-
mentalists would want to share the joke.
The absolutism of the clashing supernatural worlds portrayed in Mor-
risons comic is echoed in a disturbing way by radical contrasts in the here
and now. If Ul-Shattans invectives against humanity (which he likens to
maggots) uncannily resemble the diatribes that we know only too well from
the messages of Islamic fundamentalists, then the vague multiculturalism of
contemporary Bradford is no less disconcerting, as it, too, sparks radical posi-
tions. While Morrison attempts to defuse any form of nascent fundamental-
ism with a hefty dose of humor, real life might be less compromising. Hence
Alis devout and diligent brother, Omar, squarely admits that he does not get
Alis jokes: I have no sense of humor, Ali. You know that (1, 6). Yet it is
not only this dire literalism that is worrying but also Alis latent extremism,
which is illustrated by his pledge that he will commit suicide should the wife
his parents have chosen for him turn out to be ugly. This suggests that he,
too, might be harboring a suppressed potential for violence (even though he
is less willing to turn this against others). Only the fact of mortality ultimately
puts a stop to these extremes and unites Ali, Omar and their father in Nir-
vana from which they all return, better, more contented and happier peo-
ple (and without becoming martyrs to their personal causes).
*I think the story is human enough at its core to mean something to anyone whos ever been a teen-
ager in the grip of immense and ridiculous forces beyond ones control or understanding (Brady).
See, for example, Martin Wainwright, New Take on Life in Bradford, The Guardian (11 February
2005) (http://arts.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,5124626-110427,00.html), or Tina Sharma, Vimanarama:
British Pakistani Saves the World in New Comic! Asians in Media (20 February 2005) (http://www.
asiansinmedia.org/news/printable.php?article=824).
CONCLUSION
Since the 1980s, British comic artists have successfully deconstructed the
superhero myth as propagated by the American comic industry. This decon-
struction included the American attempts to review the superhero genre, be
it by depicting their protagonists inner turmoil and neuroses (Dark Knight
Returns) or by enhancing their mythical potential (Kingdom Come). Whether
the British artists have used an elaborate polyphony that demythologizes the
superhero myth by placing it at the center of a web of conicting perspec-
tives, that uncovers its historicity or portrays superheroes with a sense of
humor for which the epithet British is the only appropriate one, these comics
put a question mark to the old certainties of the genre like truth, justice and
the American way or with great power comes great responsibility. Yet they
also prove that superheroes are alive and kicking even after Captain Amer-
icas sad and sudden demise.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bakhtin, Mikhail M. Problems of Dostoevskys Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1984.
_____. Rabelais and his World. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984.
Barthes, Roland. Mythologies, suivi de Le Mythe, aujourdhui. Roland Barthes. uvres
completes. I. Paris: ditions du Seuil, 1993, 561 724.
Berry, Michael. The Second British Invasion. http://www.sff.net/people/mberry/gaiman.
htm. (4 September 2007).
Brady, Matt. Inside Morrisons Head: Leaving Marvel, Vimanarama and More. Newsarama,
11 August 2003. http://forum.newsarama.com/archive/index.php/t-5087.html (4 Septem-
ber 2007).
Ellis, Warren et al. Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E. Vol. 1: This is What They Want. New York:
Marvel, 2006.
_____. Planetary: Crossing Worlds. La Jolla, CA: Wildstorm, 2004.
_____. Planetary 1: All Over The World and Other Stories. La Jolla, CA: Wildstorm, 2000.
_____. Planetary 2: The Fourth Man. La Jolla, CA: Wildstorm, 2001.
_____. Planetary 3: Leaving the 20th Century. La Jolla, CA: Wildstorm, 2004.
Eno, Vincent, and El Csawza. Alan Moore Interview. 1988. Feuilleton. http://www.john-
coulthart.com/feuilleton/?p=53 (4 September 2007).
Gaiman, Neil, et al. The Sandman 2: The Dolls House. New York: Vertigo, 1995.
Hutcheon, Linda. The Politics of Postmodernism. London and New York: Routledge, 1993.
Kukkonen, Karin. Neue Perspektiven auf die Superhelden: Polyphonie in Alan Moores Watch-
men. Marburg: Tectum, 2008.
Miller, Frank, et al. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. New York: DC Comics, 2002 (1986).
Moore, Alan. Planetary Consciousness. In Warren Ellis et al., Planetary 1: All Over The
World and Other Stories. La Jolla, CA: Wildstorm, 2000.
Moore, Alan, et al. Watchmen. New York: DC Comics, 1987.
Morrison, Grant et al. Vimanarama 1 3. New York: Vertigo, 2005.
Waid, Mark. Kingdom Come. New York: DC Comics, 1996.
Weisbrod, Aaron. Recapping an Evening with Warren Ellis @ heroes con 06. Newsarama
7 June 2006. http://forum.newsarama.com/showthread.php?t=76010 (4 September 2007).
14
A Cornerstone of Turkish Fantastic
Films: From Flash Gordon to Baytekin
Meral znar
The history of the comics medium in Turkey is a long and troubled one.
Despite the fact that parents in Turkey do usually not approve of them, comics
are highly popular with children and have a considerable standing in the
media landscape. Both thematically and formally, Turkish comics have been
greatly inuenced by a number of Italian and American serials that were
imported in the past. But these works were not absorbed without important
changes made to the foreign concepts. The Turkish political system, which
regarded anything coming from abroad as a threat to the national identity,
tried to localize comic books as quickly as possible, that is, to adapt and
rewrite them to suit a Turkish background. The inuence of nationalist ide-
ology thus made itself clearly felt both formally and content-wise. Originally
blond heroes were given dark hair and the names of characters and places were
changed into more familiar, Turkish terms. A typical example is the transfor-
mation of the character Flash Gordon into the Turkish hero Baytekin. Flash
Gordon was welcomed with great enthusiasm by Turkish audiences, but only
after the series original concept had been domesticated, that is, changed to
suit ideological aims. The popularity of comics reached a new height when a
wave of adaptations of foreign lms hit Turkish cinema screens in the 1960s
and 1970s, and a new genre in Turkish cinema was thus created. The mar-
riage of the sometimes endearing technical and formal insufciencies of the
Turkish lm industry with the rich imagination of comics brought forth what
could be called the Turkish fantastic movie or, to use the term commonly
used in Turkey, the costume adventure movie.
Comics have played an important role in the cultural socialization of chil-
dren in Turkey for several decades now. A common Turkish saying, which
164
14. A Cornerstone of Turkish Fantastic Films (znar) 165
might sound familiar to comic fans everywhere, states that the only books
which are read without knowing how to read are comics. Typically, Turkish
readers can be divided into two categories, those whose reading started with
an ubiquitous childrens book called Pollyanna and those who learned their
letters with the help of comics. Among these two options, the latter is cer-
tainly remembered with greater fondness. It can also be assumed that almost
everybody in Turkey goes through a comics reading phase at least once in their
lives. Yet, comics are at the same time patronizingly frowned upon and seen
as inevitable an element in the process of growing up as football. In other
words, everybody reads comics at some point in his or her life but later the
grown-up readers do not want them to be read by youngsters. While this par-
adoxical attitude toward comics with its ensuing clash of generations still
occasionally surfaces in the West, it is much the general opinion in Turkey.
As Turkish school children do not heed the elders admonitions more than
Western teenagers, comics are still hidden in many school textbooks so stu-
dents can peruse them clandestinely during class.
The rst comics published in Turkey were called novels or movie nov-
els. The aim behind this curious choice of terminology was to make this
slightly dubious form of literature respectable by associating it with estab-
lished media and genres. In a similar fashion, the term paper cinema was
later coined because comics are printed on paper and, at least from a rather
supercial point of view, appear to take their narrative conventions and for-
mal means from cinema. Once again, the effort to make use of the popular-
ity of the cinema is rather transparent. It is also of importance in this respect
that popular Turkish comics serials such as Baytekin, Bayetin and Tarkan
were all made into serials for the cinema, with a total of 32 episodes alto-
gether. My aim in putting such emphasis on the names given to comics when
they rst arrived in Turkey is to demonstrate that they met with opposing
reactions. From this point of view, the terminological confusion also seems
to provide a key to the mentality that informed the ideological counterreac-
tions against the new medium. Comics rst published in newspapers in Amer-
ica achieved popularity in Turkey when they were reprinted in magazine form
in the 1930s. At the same time, as they became popular in the kids maga-
zines, comics came to have a bad reputation among parents who were keen
on providing their children with a good education. Their quasi-instinctive
opposition marked the starting point of an aggressive public campaign against
comics and their partial banning. The slogan of this particular movement for
censorship said, Taking good care of children is not an economical matter,
but a moral one. Public reactions to comic books were so volatile because
many people believed that the magazines printing them only adhered to cap-
italist principles in their crafting of the stories. It was also a widespread belief
that the books did not teach the moral principles of the regime in power, or
were even opposed to them. Indeed, the fact that comics origins lay abroad
impinged greatly on the regimes doctrine of cultural nationalism. In other
words, to the adherents of the anticomics movement, the growing popular-
ity of comics was just another symptom of the spread of Americanism. Con-
sequently, various kinds of opposition emerged. The different authoritarian
regimes of the 1930s intervened to domesticate American comics. In Turkey,
the localization of the stories even went so far as to making the blond char-
acters dark-haired: Flash Gordon thus became Baytekin.
In Turkey, Flash Gordon was rst published in 1935 in a magazine called
ocuk sesi, and the title of the comic would later be changed to Baytekin. The
title characters name was not the only one to be tinkered with. The original
American character going by the name of Dane Arden was changed into Yldz,
and Zarkov became etinel. Baytekin affected the youth of that period pro-
foundly, both in comic book and movie form. The series was rst published
under the name of Super Gordon in 1971. Its main character was presented as
the pilot of the future. At the bottom of the comics pages, propaganda slo-
gans could be found, such as: Our future is in the sky, Help strengthen
the Turkish Air Forces, or Lets strengthen our Air Forces. Sadi Konuralp
comments:
Flash Gordon was brand new for the comics reader because of the quality of the
drawings and the good use it made of its science ction scenario. Consequently,
it had a remarkably big audience in Turkey. This great reader interest lead other
publishing houses to develop fake Flash Gordon serials. A publication called
Uzay produced an adventure serial called Angry Tessie. Its rst installment was
rst published in issue 28, dating from August 30, 1971. Both in drawing and in
content, it was an obvious appropriation of the Baytekin concept. Some panels
of this comic, printed without any authorial signature underneath, are clear
swipes of drawings in the Baytekin story Lieutenant Volkan. Another fake
Super Gordon adventure was published under the name of 455 Escaping,
starting from issue 31 on September 20, 1971. Here, gures from a comic prob-
ably made in Great Britain were modied. [Flash] Gordons and Dravers faces
replaced the heads of the characters of the original story. The ratio between the
head and the body has not been well calculated, with amusing anatomical
results [356, my translation].
These interventions reect the political and social atmosphere of the
period. Political worries, the manipulation of society by way of political
speeches, and psychological warfare caused widespread pessimism and fur-
ther encouraged the regime in its authoritarian mentality. The economical
recession all over the world and a certain lack of condence in the Turkish
people were considered as evidence of the imminent danger the regime found
itself in.
The new regime that would come into place was to reject its political
inheritance and renew almost every part of society, but it was not in power
yet. Instead, in an attempt to ensure the continuity of the system, the gov-
erning powers once again came to rely on their customary defensive reexes.
For that reason, comics coming to Turkey were lled with nationalist gures,
so much so, in fact, that they faced the danger of entirely losing their origi-
nal identity. Ideologically, this process of nationalist censorship was justied
in the following way:
In order to mobilize the nation [...] the child should be educated as a prospec-
tive adult who is supposed to contribute to the [national] effort. This education
should enable the child to take part in the collective conscience and to consider
itself part of a national community which depends on cultural and emotional
cooperation [Cantek 28, my translation].
These comics, which were much informed by the general atmosphere of

the country at the time, told moral stories. When the 1940s with the battles
of World War II arrived, the country (which was not prepared for the war)
was forced to cut down on almost everything. Restrictions on the use of paper
prevented newspapers from being published, and comics were equally affected.
Consequently, the Turkish comics boom slowed down. But this would not
prove the only stumbling block in the development of the medium in Turkey.
As a result of Atatrks death in 1938, fears that the now-inefcient political
regime might collapse increased, and the public measures taken against comics
in the West, especially in America, found their counterparts in Turkey as well.
One of the most important reasons for these reactions were the nationalist
fears generated by the fact that American culture was adopted by the Turk-
ish people with great ease and speed. Consequently, Vedat Nedim Tr,
Turkeys Frederic Wertham, started a crusade against comics. His campaign
resulted in the shutdown of the comics magazines. Most of the artists became
unemployed.
It would take until the 1950s for comics in Turkey to enjoy their very
own golden age. Newspaper circulation increased with the help of the pop-
ular comics that were printed on their pages. Of course, nationalist factors
also played a great role in this increase. As a matter of fact, these years were
the period when home-grown heroes gradually took center stage. In the 1950s,
a Turkish comics hero called Pekos Bill enjoyed high circulation numbers. But
coinciding with the publication of the series 70th issue, it was banned. Its
supposedly harmful psychological effects on children were cited as the reason
for the censorship. Comics opponents were once again gaining in power. In
fact, it was not just comics that were opposed, but all of the newly emerging
entertainment culture. Comics, which occupied a remarkable place in pop-
ular culture and provided well-deserved doses of escapism for their audience,
were rejected by certain factions of society just like any other cultural inuence
from abroad. The conicting groups that were to dominate public discourse
about comics for the following years emerged during this decade, but the
ascent of popular culture could not be stopped, despite the great number of
opponents.
After Pekos Bill, another comic book that enjoyed great success was a
Western serial called Tommiks Texas. It quickly rose to great fame. In fact,
the series was so successful that its title was adopted as a general term for
comics. With the further contribution of American movies, cowboy stories
became remarkably popular. Turkish movies started to emulate this quintes-
sentially American genre faithfully. The unfavorable attitude toward Ameri-
can culture displayed in the 1930s was replaced by admiration for American
movies. The trend toward Turkish-made Westerns started in 1967. It would
last for seven years, and about 50 lms of this sort would be shot. These lms,
most of which were cheaply produced, nevertheless proved highly successful.
Giovanni Scognomillo remarks on the subject:
This sort of costume lm, which was made with complete disregard for histori-
cal accuracy, is similar to the so-called Byzantine Westerns, especially in how
much these lms are informed by clichs of the old west. Supposedly, only the
decorations and the costumes are changed in our country. As in the American
Westerns, where the villains are the Redskins who scalp their enemies heads,
the Byzantines are dened as sinful indels and the villains in this type of his-
torical adventure [qtd. after Agah zg 196, my translation].
This period also was the time when comics were rst made into lms.
The Red Mask and Kinova are the most well-known examples.
The 1960s were the decade during which Turkish national identity was
questioned. A Turkish comic book called Karaoglan became famous. It served
as a model for other comic book creators and thus gave birth to a number of
new serials called Tarkan, Kara Murat and Malkooglu. At the same time,
comics were once again attacked as an ideological means of American impe-
rialism. American cultural inuence also made itself felt in other areas such
as music and cinema. Commonly, the opponents of American culture would
raise the same arguments against it over and over again, criticizing its escapist
aims, its insistence on material values and its supposedly hypocritical opti-
mism. As a reaction against the rise of more liberal, leftist views, which were
symbolized by comics hero Karaoglan, new types of strips were produced that
were intended to spread conservative and nationalist ideas.
These new nationalist comics took their basic formal and narrative cues
from serials made in the West, but added new local content both in regard
to the art styles employed and to the stories they told. Their creators made
abundant use of Turkish history, changing historical facts to suit their ideo-
logical aims and to atter their audiences ego. The historical heroes were
portrayed as unbeatable, and seemingly, that was just what the public wanted.
The hero protagonist had all qualities to perfection. At the same time, the
villain was absolutely certain to lose in the end. The protagonists would ght
magnicently and prove excellent lovers. It comes as no surprise that beauti-
ful young ladies would inevitably fall in love with them. As a matter of fact,
the most signicant common ground of all these nationalist heroes probably
was their relationship with women. All of them would have a love affair dur-
ing each and every one of their adventures. Most times, a princess or a queen
ruling a foreign country would fall in love with the protagonist. Also, while
the main character was shown to be perfect, the supporting characters tended
to represent human weaknesses.
One of the quintessentially Turkish heroes was Kara Murat, a dark-
haired, strong man with a moustache. His adventures were drawn by Abdul-
lah Turan and written by Rahmi Turan. In the eyes of the middle class, he
was the most powerful hero, a reputation built especially on his later screen
incarnation by actor Cneyt Arkn in a series of lms. The supporting char-
acters of both the lms and the comic books were generally weak. The main
character was young, aged about 20. He was tall and lean. Supporting char-
acters, on the contrary, were bald, fat or ugly. The main characters would go
out with beautiful women, whereas the bit players would only be left with
the ugly ones. In these comics, which irted with nationalist sentiment, cer-
tain racist tendencies can also be detected, which were meant to bait readers:
commonly, all characters who did not belong to the Turkish nation were por-
trayed as being cruel or merciless.
By and by, the operation of localization that had been so crucial in the
preceding years proved insufcient because the problem lay not only with
foreign heroes or so-called cultural imperialism. In almost every branch of
the Turkish art world, western views had never truly been adopted. Conse-
quently, even though Turkish comics imitated a specic form from abroad, a
suitable indigenous use of the medium had not been found. The result was
that Turkish comics could never go beyond being mere copies of the Italian
or American originals. Turkish comics never proved truly creative in and of
themselves, and they never exerted the same cultural inuence their foreign
role models did. Their creators also failed to develop sophisticated visual nar-
ration. This may again be traced back to the fact that the visual arts had never
fully developed in Turkey. Instead, oral culture continued in its dominance.
In comics, however, the reader wants to follow both the visual and the ver-
bal narration but Turkish comics severely neglected visual narration and fore-
grounded verbal narration instead. Much that should have been narrated
visually was thus left to the readers imagination. As in many Turkish lms,
verbal narration was preferred to visual narration in comics.
History-based lms generally reect the political climate of the period
they were made in, apart from telling stories about the events, occurrences
and people of the past. Historical stories, at times, are used as an arena for
the battles between different ideological approaches. That is why, when exam-
ining these comic-based Turkish lms, it becomes apparent that their histor-
ical plots are used to transport the various political and social currents of the
period the lms were released in. These heroes and their adventures also point
toward diverse cinematic ways of looking at history. It can be said that the
cinema knows three different approaches toward historical subjects. There are
lms that represent history in a fantastical manner, as well as lms that attempt
to accurately reect historical truth, and nally, there are lms that approach
history from an ideological point of view. Fantastic lms rarely treat any
specic historical moment, place and person. At best, they are based on a vague
historical backdrop or on legend. Although the story of a historical gure is
told, the lmmakers will manipulate the historical facts of his or her adven-
tures at will. The themes of these lms are usually love, adventure and val-
orous deeds. The lms in the second category admit to a considerably greater
responsibility toward history. Their approach is mainly different from that of
the purely fantastic lms in that their setting is rmly based on historical
facts. In the third category of lms treating historical subjects, the creators
main aim is to approach an actual historical event from an ideological point
of view. Here, for instance, heroism is dened according to the respective ide-
ologys political anxieties. The Turkish lms adapted from comics serials and
shot during these years for example, Karaoglan, Tarkan, Malkooglu and
Kara Murat are all based on historical events and gures. These lms, which
offer a mixture of heroism, action, adventure and sex, exhibit features of both
the fantastic and the ideological type of historical lmmaking.
The exaggerated heroes and stories of Turkish comics provided the raw
materials for a wave of new fantastic lms in Turkey. These movies also took
up comics sometimes questionable approach toward history. From the late
1960s, Turkish comics were adapted for the cinema as serials (32 lms were
made altogether). From the marriage of the endless possibilities of the fan-
tastic cinema and the world of comics a new genre emerged, the so-called
costume adventure lm. These lms, like Hollywoods so-called B movies,
or cheaply made genre fare from Italy, India, or Hong Kong, were produced
in a cost-effective factory system. The lms would be made in very little time
and with a very limited budget. The same historical sets, camera angles, nar-
rative techniques and music would be used and recycled in a whole number
of lms. Sometimes, shots would be pilfered from foreign lms and inserted
into Turkish productions, as in the case of Dnyay Kurtaran Adam (The

Man Who Saves the World), which tells the story of an alien invasion. In
this lm, which has become a cult picture, shots from the original Star Wars
were inserted into the Turkish material starring Cuneyt Arkn. In this man-
ner, a science ction setting could be established at next to no cost.
In 1966, the rst installment of a lm serial called Malkooglu was released
and became highly popular almost instantly. Following in its footsteps was
the serial Kara Murat, its rst installment released in 1970. It was based on a
concept rather similar to Malkooglus. Unsurprisingly, Cuneyt Arkn was cast
the title character in both series. Arkns athleticism dictates the tone of both
lms, and their success in turn made Arkn an indispensable mainstay of cos-
tume adventure lms of this kind. No real awareness of history is displayed
in the lmmakers choice of stories and characters. History serves only as dec-
oration or picturesque background. Instead, these lms put their emphasis
on narrative momentum, the storys fantastical atmosphere and their primi-
tive ideological point of view. To give a few examples: Malkooglu meets
Kazkl Voyvoda, ghts against the crusaders, and woos the daughter of the
Hungarian King. Kara Murat, another heroic character portrayed by actor
Fatih Sultan Mehmet, hunts his enemies mercilessly, but he is also procient
as a lover. According to this particular character, love is the greatest favor
God has granted us! In one of the lms, he dances to Johann Strauss The
Blue Danube waltz, which was composed approximately 400 years after the
historical events represented in the lm.
Karaoglan, on the other hand, occupies a special place among the lms
of its genre. Apart from being based on heroic stories, these lms also tell the
story of a young man from Middle Asia. This Turkish youngster is so nave
as to make him an instant gure of identication for any audience. Surpris-
ingly, though, he is rather witty in comparison with other adventure heroes
like Tarkan. During a ght, he tells his opponent: You seem to like music,
because you hold your sword like a clarinet!
The more traditional Tarkan comics, created by Sezgin Burak, were
adapted for the screen by director Mehmet Aslan. In these lms, Tarkan gen-
erally and somewhat monotonously ghts for a treasured artifact, for exam-
ple, a golden sword or a beautiful woman. Alongside his companion dog, he
experiences endless adventures and emerges victorious from almost all of them.
The comics version shows a rich imagination at work, but technical insuf-
ciencies caused signicant trouble in the screen adaptation, which resulted
in many unintentionally humorous scenes.
In fact, most of the costume adventure lms were just as ridiculous as
the Tarkan series. Their heroes were brave and strong, so strong, in fact, that
they could beat a whole army on their own, scale high castle walls in one leap,
kill a handful of men with one strike of the sword and nally make all the
beautiful women fall in love with them. These heroes were inspired by his-
torical novels or publications that, in turn, took their material from the leg-
ends and events of the past. Dialogue in these lms was often inadvertently
comic, so much so that everybody in Turkey knows at least a few particularly
funny lines by heart. Goofs and clearly visible mistakes, inevitable in lms
made in such a short time and with a limited amount of money, thus came
to characterize the costume adventure lm. But despite these obvious short-
comings, these lms political subtext demands to be taken seriously.
Like the historical comics, the costume adventure lms depended on a national-
ist message and made-up history. The pseudo-historical premise of these lms
gave the lmmakers both the opportunity to create a fantastic setting for the
heros adventures and the possibility to expound crude sentiments of Turkish
nationalism which originated from a propaganda version of history or were sup-
ported by the mangled version of history created by the lm itself [Cantek 20,
my translation].
The heroes of these lms, like their comic book counterparts, symbol-
ized superiority and invincibility. They were constantly engaged in battle. The
general structure of the lms plots can be divided into three segments, that
is, the heros departure, his heroic actions and his triumphant return. Themes
are repeated again and again. As Umberto Eco puts it: The main character-
istic of popular stories like comics is the renovation of a series of events accord-
ing to a kind of scheme arranged beforehand. This scheme which repeats
itself endlessly is based on an unnecessity (21). Eco is writing about Amer-
ican and Italian serials here. Turkish comics and adventure lms differ some-
what from those in the common aim behind this eternal repetition of heroic
deeds, which was to form a perspective for national identity. The costume
adventure lms that transported certain concepts of Turkish national iden-
tity for a mass audience made use of the medium as a means to provide peo-
ple with psychological support. In other words, adventure lms were used to
soften the impact of a traumatic political history. Most of the iconography
of these costume adventure lms was taken directly from comic books. The
settings used in the lms (dungeons, inns, palace gardens, etc.) and the acces-
sories (swords, knives, ags, etc.) were identical with the comics props. Suat
Yalaz, a former comics artist who made lms in those years, employed the
same themes in his lms that had previously informed his comics. His
Karaoglan series is a good example. Here, Yalaz invented most of the charac-
teristics that would later be used as clichs in other costume adventure lms.
Errors and ridiculously exaggerated fantasy worlds are the main features
of the costume adventure lms. It is impossible to think of them without these
shortcomings. The re-appearance of dead characters on the screen, the stilted
dialogue and action scenes taken from other lms are some of the features the
costume adventure lms would never relinquish. The primitive nature of the
lms is also reected in the narrative perspective of the lms (and comics).
I (as in the Turkish protagonist) and the other (as in the foreign villain)
are presented as essentially unchangeable. The hero is shown to be proud, hon-
orable and unbeatable, whereas the foreign characters are physically and emo-
tionally weak. Similarly, the frequently encountered gure of the other hero,
whom the protagonist meets somewhere on his way, is usually introduced as
a character with feminine tendencies. This kind of essentialism arises from
fears of losing values in the process of Westernization. In Turkey, not only
those representing Western values but also women were the other in those
days. The other had to exhibit specically bad qualities so that the group
that perceived itself as essentially Turkish could develop its mechanisms of
defense.
These nationalist themes of costume adventure lms and comics serials
were mixed with other themes such as freedom, independence and male sol-
idarity. This is the essential paradox at the core of these artifacts of Turkish
popular culture: the costume adventure lms and the comic books they were
based on were, on the one hand, really contributing to the idea of liberty and
individual freedom. They suggested that everyone might be able to depart on
adventures of their own. But on the other hand, these lms and comic books
also fetishized male dominance and solidarity. Their male heroes, while hur-
rying from one adventure to the next, taught patriarchal and nationalist les-
sons. The legacy of these lms dating from the 1960s and 1970s is clearly
visible today: they were the inspiration for modern Turkish fantastic lms pro-
duced with the help of 3D animation and much more sophisticated tech-
nology today. As can be seen by the example of this more sophisticated
renaissance, the old serials seem to have retained their ambivalent power.
Whether comics are savagely criticized or exalted enthusiastically, they have
always provided us with a refuge where we could meet fantastically incorrect,
hilariously omnipotent and stylistically imperfect heroes.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Brockmeier, Jens, and Donal Carbaugh. Narrative and Identity Studies in Autobiography, Self
and Culture. Amherst: University of Toronto Press & Freie Universitt Berlin / Univer-
sity of Massachusetts Press, 2001.
Cantek, Levent (ed.). izgili Hayat Klavuzu [Guide of Stripped Life]. Istanbul: jletiim Yay,
2002.
Cot, J. E., and C. G. Levine. Identity Formation, Agency, and Culture A Social Psycholog-
ical Synthesis. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 2002.
Daniels, Les. DC Comics: Sixty Years of the Worlds Favorite Comic Book Heroes. Boston:
Bulnch, 1995.
Eco, Umberto. Anlat Ormanlarnda Gezinti. Istanbul: Can Yay, 1995.
Freeman, Mark. Why Narrative? Hermeneutics, Historical Understanding, and the

Signicance of Stories. Journal of Narrative and Life History 7 (1997): 16976.
Harvey, Robert C. The Art of The Comic Book: An Aesthetic History. Jackson: Mississippi Uni-
versity Press, 1996.
Keller-Cohen, Deborah, and Judy Dyer. Intertexuality and the Narrative of Personal Expe-
rience. Journal of Narrative and Life History 7 (1997): 14753.
Konuralp, Sadi. Flash Gordon. http:// www.seruven.org (10 April 2007).
Ozgu, Agah. Trlerle Trk Sinemas [Turkish Cinema with Styles]. Istanbul: Dnya Yay,
2005.
Sabin, Roger. Adult Comics: An Introduction. London: Routledge, 1993.
15
From Capes to Snakes:
The Indianization of
the American Superhero1
Suchitra Mathur
If one was to believe the international media buzz, the Indian superhero
is a brand-new twenty-rst-century product. Of course, there is some debate
here about who exactly is the rst Indian superhero. While the producers of
the lm Krrish (2006) would like us to believe it is their eponymous masked
hero, others point to Gotham Entertainments Spider-Man: India (launched in
2004). And then theres Virgin Comics, a partnership between Richard Bran-
sons Virgin group and Indias Gotham Comics, which has a stable full of
superheroes from Devi to Sadhu. However, as the Indian media, especially
the informal sector of Indian bloggers, have been at pains to remind us, the
Indian superhero has been around for much longer. Exactly how much longer
is once again a matter of debate. There are some who would like to push this
date of origin back into pre-history, pointing to mythical characters such as
Hanuman (the monkey-god) as the original Indian superheroes (cf. Haldipur).
Others, more rooted in comic book culture, point to various characters
launched by Indian comic book publishers in the late 1970s and 1980s. Of
these, Nagraj, the 1986 Raj Comics creation, appears to best t the established
conventions of the superhero genre as dened by the tradition of the Amer-
ican superhero. But, as Lang and Trimble remind us, it is logical to assume
the American monomythic hero is different from the heroes of other cultures
(158). How and when, then, was the Indian hero transformed into the Amer-
*I would like to thank my undergraduate students at IIT Kanpur, especially Vinod Khare, for intro-
ducing me to Nagraj comics and providing invaluable insights (as ardent fans and followers) into the
world of Raj Comics superheroes.
175
ican superhero? And is this transformation a sign of the infamous McDon-

aldization of the world, or does it point toward a more positive form of cul-
tural globalization where the global is linked to the local in a relationship of
mutual exchange and empowerment? I will here attempt to answer these ques-
tions by situating Nagraj within Indian sociocultural history in general, and
comic book history in particular.
The Indian comic book tradition is relatively young. Apart from the
appearance of a few characters appearing in single-frame cartoons in the early
part of the 20th century, Indian comics did not really establish themselves as
a distinct genre until the 1960s when Anant Pai began the Amar Chitra Katha
(henceforth ACK) series. A distinctly nationalist enterprise, the ACKs are a
retelling of Indian myths, legends and history in the form of graphic narra-
tives that create a visually coherent Indian cultural tradition. In terms of
both style and content, these comics self-consciously set themselves apart
from the Anglo-American comic tradition. And an important aspect of this
distinctiveness is the denition of heroism in the ACKs, which studiously
stays away from the anonymous masked crusader gure of the American super-
hero. Instead, these Indian comics depict their larger-than-life heroes as eas-
ily recognizable representative gures rooted in a specic sociocultural context.
However, the superhero gure was not entirely absent from the Indian comic
scene during this rst phase of the Indian comic tradition. Along with ACK,
the 1960s also saw the establishment of two comic book publishers in India
Diamond Comics (1960) and Indrajal Comics (1964), both of which prima-
rily published American superhero comics such as Superman, Spider-Man,
Phantom and Mandrake, often in Hindi translation. What was conspicuous
by its absence during this period was the creation of any specically Indian
superhero. Diamond Comics Chacha Choudhry, with a faster-than-com-
puter mind, was a successful problem solver, but his super-intelligence is
combined with the disarmingly human physique of an elderly gentleman,
which is far from the muscle-rippling form of the conventional superhero.
And Sabu, another character in the same series, though endowed with the
requisite strength as well as super origins (he is from Jupiter), is merely a
side-kick who never emerges from the shadow of Chacha Choudhry to act as
an independent superhero.
It is not until the late 1970s, 1978 to be precise, that both Diamond and
Indrajal comics came out with identiably Indian superheroes characters
that have a seless prosocial mission, who possess superpowers, advanced
technology, mystical abilities, or highly developed physical and/or mental
skills (Coogan, qtd. in Emmons). While Indrajal created Bahadur, a reformed
dacoit who has vowed to ght against all kinds of criminal elements in soci-
ety, Diamond brought out Fauladi Singh, a humanoid robot engaged prima-
15. From Capes to Snakes (Mathur) 177
rily in ghting aliens attacking earth. Interestingly, neither of these charac-

ters corresponds faithfully to the conventions of the American comic super-
hero genre. Coogans denition, for example, continues beyond the prosocial
mission and superpowers to dene the superhero as one who has a superi-
dentity and iconic costume [...] and can be distinguished from characters of
related genres (fantasy, science ction, detective, etc.) by a preponderance of
generic conventions. The 1970s Indian comic superheroes violate many of
these conventions. While Bahadur has neither an iconic costume nor a secret
identity, Fauladi Singh is primarily a science ction gure engaged in ght-
ing futuristic alien invasions rather than dealing with crimes aficting the
contemporary world. These rst Indian superheroes, therefore, appear to point
toward the development of a distinctly indigenous superhero tradition that
shares with the ACKs a self-conscious distancing from the Anglo-American
comic tradition. Instead, this gure of the Indian superhero appears to draw
more obviously upon another indigenous popular culture tradition, namely,
Hindi cinema. The 1970s was the decade that saw the emergence of Amitabh
Bachchan as the Indian superstar, the unbeatable action hero whose portrayal
of the angry young man single-handedly ghting against every kind of social
evil effectively redened the idea of heroism within Indian popular culture.
Though endowed with no identiably superhuman powers, this action hero
is nonetheless super in his victory against extraordinary odds, in the way
he stands head and shoulders above all his contemporaries, in his unswerv-
ing integrity, which wins him the support of the entire community, though
no one is able to provide much practical aid in his crime-ghting activities.
It is no wonder, then, that in the 1980s Indrajal comics cashed in on this phe-
nomenon by creating Supremo, a comic superhero version of Amitabh
Bachchan.
Interestingly, however, the portrayal of Supremo draws upon several fea-
tures of the American superhero that had been conspicuously absent in ear-
lier Indian comic book superheroes. While drawing upon Amitabh Bachchans
hit action lms for characters and even plot lines, Supremo transforms the rec-
ognizable young hero from the neighborhood into a masked crusader, com-
plete with costume and secret identity, who emerges as a crime-ghting
superhero only at night while remaining incognito during the day. This trans-
formation may be seen as symptomatic of a cultural shift in the Indian super-
hero tradition in the latter half of the 1980s. In 1987, for example, Shekhar
Kapur released Mr. India, often touted as Indias rst SF lm, but more
remarkable for its redenition of the Indian superhero as an average Indian
who has special powers bestowed on him by science, in this case the ability
to become invisible. This Mr. India is not only very much the extraordi-
nary lone crusader with a secret identity la American superhero, but is also
played by an actor, Anil Kapoor, who has a very different screen image than
Amitabh Bachchan. In contrast to Bachchans towering 6' 3" height and deep
baritone voice that consolidated his angry young man image, Anil Kapoor
is an average 5'11" with the kind of looks that early in his career pegged him
as a romantic hero. Kapurs choice of Anil Kapoor as the protagonist of his
superhero lm clearly signals a cultural shift in the Indian monomyth of the
action hero. Interestingly, the year after the release of Mr. India, Amitabh
Bachchan himself appeared in a lm, Shahenshah (1988), which is also
premised upon the idea of an ordinary man with a costumed secret identity
as a superhero. This telling departure from the then-existing Bachchan tra-
dition, following so closely in the footsteps of Mr. India, does indicate an
Americanization of the Indian superhero concept in the very medium that
is, lm where it was rst consolidated in the popular imagination. And this
cultural shift was clearly not restricted to the world of Hindi cinema. It is in
1986 that we have the establishment of Raj Comics, a special subsidiary of an
existing publishing rm, which launched itself under the banner of being the
home of Indian action superhero comics with Nagraj as their vanguard inau-
gural superhero gure.
According to Sanjay Gupta, one of the concept creators of Nagraj, the
main inspiration behind the creation of this superhero was Spider-Man. It
was in the early 1980s that Spider-Man rst appeared on Indian television as
a cartoon serial that immediately gained tremendous popularity. Sanjay Gupta
fondly recalls Sunday mornings spent watching this show and how this slowly
led to the desire to create an Indian counterpart to this superhero. The
inuence of Spider-Man on Nagraj is obvious starting with the animal
motif that is most clearly visualized in the costume and background story that
traces the origins of both superheroes to science labs, to technical details like
snakes shooting out of Nagrajs wrists in imitation of Spider-Mans web-shoot-
ing wrists. As with Spider-Mans webs, these snakes become the chief source
of Nagrajs powers, including the all-important ability to y by swinging
on snake ropes. Even the ethical framework of the story of origin, which gov-
erns the superheros role and purpose in society, is similar. Spider-Mans trans-
formatory experience of Uncle Bens murder (which makes the latters
statement with great power comes great responsibility his guiding princi-
ple) is echoed in Nagrajs encounter with Baba Gorakhnath, a guru-gure
who guides Nagraj toward using his powers for the good of society. All these
details that build up Nagrajs prole as a superhero are clearly distinct from
the earlier tradition of Indian superheroism as embodied in Amitabh Bachchan
lms as well as comics such as Bahadur. Although some aspects of Nagraj do
not appear to be derived directly from Spider-Man, these variations often can
be traced back to other American superheroes rather than any specically
Indian superhero tradition. Nagrajs snakey look, for example, is not achieved
by a costume; it is his skin, which has developed snake-like qualities as a
result of ingesting the ashes of a powerful shape-shifting snake. As a result,
Nagraj, unlike Spider-Man, cannot shed his costume to look like an ordi-
nary citizen. Instead, he has to put on normal clothes, especially a long
overcoat, when he goes out into society and needs to disguise his exception-
ality. Visually, this strategy is reminiscent of Phantom, whose costume, though
not a biological part of his body, is almost never taken off, and who dons a
disguising overcoat whenever he needs to leave his jungle home to enter civ-
ilization. Similarly, later in the Nagraj series, Nagraj adopts a secret identity
as Raj, an ordinary bespectacled man, deadly scared of snakes, who works for
a large media company an obvious echo of Supermans alter ego, Clark
Kent, in both looks and profession. Nagraj thus clearly signals the American-
ization of the Indian superhero, a telling example of the cultural dynamics of
neocolonial globalization. Though the latter is often associated with the
specic policies of economic liberalization promulgated in 1991, these eco-
nomic policies are themselves rooted in the import liberalization reforms of
the 1980s (Kurien 95). In the cultural sphere, this 1980s orientation toward
foreign imports in the eld of production is evident in Indian television,
which, while remaining exclusively under government control, opened its
doors to foreign programming by telecasting serials like Spider-Man and Star
Trek. This shift from education to entertainment as the ofcial purpose of tel-
evision may be seen as indicative of a modernization that then became the
catchword of the Rajiv Gandhi administration, which took over the reins of
the country in 1984. The agship of this modernization was the telecom sec-
tor and expertise for this transformation came from the United States. While
collaboration with the United States was not in itself a new thing, the amount
of publicity given to it and the valorization of the United States as a desir-
able model for imitation did result in a noticeable shift within the popular
cultural discourse. It is this shift that I see exemplied in Nagraj and the
emergence of the Americanized Indian superhero.
This shift, however, should not be taken as an indication of the success-
ful establishment of a neo-imperial American cultural hegemony. Popular
culture, as Stuart Hall reminds us, is neither, in a pure sense, the popular
traditions of resistance to these processes [of domination and reform]; nor is
it the forms which are superimposed on and over them. It is the ground on
which the transformations are worked (Notes on Deconstructing the Pop-
ular 456). The Nagraj comics embody such a negotiation between contain-
ment and resistance in an India where growing U.S. inuence through a
liberalized consumerist economy coexists with a resurgent militant nation-
alism allied to Hindu fundamentalism. This discourse of cultural national-
ism, ofcially named Hindutva, has invented an Indian tradition that is a

curious amalgamation of Hindu scriptures and mythologies along with pop-
ular legends that are given a specically Hindu spin. It is this last set that is
particularly relevant to Nagraj, which draws upon the folklore of ichchadhari
nagas shape-shifting snakes and combines it with the Naga cult of Hindu-
ism. In Hindu mythology, snakes, especially the nag (cobra), are revered as
protectors and worshipped as symbols of prosperity and fertility. The festi-
val of Naag-Panchmi, for instance, is dedicated to the snake goddess and is
celebrated across India by feeding snakes on the fth day of the month of
Shravan. But in addition to this specically Hindu mythology regarding
snakes, there also exist legends about ichchadhari nagas that have no direct
relationship with the idea of the naga as a divinity. These legends tell the tale
of a breed of snakes that over millennia have developed the power of shape-
shifting and can thus exist in the form of both humans and snakes. Roman-
tic stories about the mutual loyalty of ichchadhari naga couples (who always
avenge the unlawful death of their partners) and the precious magical mani
(jewel) set in the hood of the male nagraj (king cobra) permeate the popular
imagination and have found frequent expression in the world of Hindi cin-
ema. Signicantly, in all such myths and legends, snakes are viewed posi-
tively, which completely inverts the Western Judeo-Christian association of
snakes with evil, an association that is qualitatively different from the mun-
dane negative feelings (found as much in India as in the West) aroused by a
potentially life-threatening creature. Interestingly, a certain kind of malicious
duplicity is associated with snakes in certain parts of India; in Hindi, for
instance, the idiom aasteen ka saanp refers to the traitor within the family.
But this association, as well as the more general mortal fear of snakes, is usu-
ally limited to the most colloquial Hindi word for snakes, namely, saanp.
The more sanskritized sarp as well as the specic term naag are largely
free from such negative associations. This linguistic divide is clearly evident
in the Nagraj comics where the narratorial voice uses the word nag to pref-
ace everything related to the superhero, while referring to his snake-powers
as sarp shakti; it is only the villainous characters who cry out saanp in hor-
ror when they are attacked by Nagrajs snake army, thus conrming their adver-
sarial position within the cultural/moral framework of the comic world.
According to Sanjay Gupta, the main reason he and his brothers chose
snakes as the totem gure for their rst superhero was to counteract the very
natural fear of snakes that is deeply rooted in people. Nagrajs use of snakes
not only as instruments of justice but also as considerate agents in helping
innocent people out of their difculties was intended to develop a healthy
friendly attitude toward snakes in the readers. This claim, supported to a
large extent by the copious use of live snakes as do-gooders in every Nagraj
comic, signals a signicant departure from the American superhero tradition

where animal totems, when evoked (as with Spider-Man and Batman), are
restricted almost completely to a symbolic function that draws upon their
stereotypically known characteristics without invoking their physical presence
within the comic world. Nagraj, on the other hand, in addition to having
snake powers (real and mythical) such as poisonous breath and the ability to
hypnotize others through the power of his gaze, also has close association with
multiple live snakes who actually reside in miniature form within his body
and are largely responsible for his invincibility. Such a symbiotic relationship
between the animal and the human, which practically blurs the boundary
between the two, is often associated with primitive cultures, more specically
with the East in general, and with India in particular. By making this snake-
man association the foundational feature of their rst superhero, the creators
of Nagraj obviously Indianized the American superhero. Nagraj thus becomes
not a slavish copy of the American original, but a mimic superhero who is,
in Homi Bhabhas terms, almost the same but not quite (86). And this not
quite variation is a result, not of faulty imitation, but of the deliberate invo-
cation of an Indian cultural framework, of an indigenous knowledge system
that transforms the contours of a Western cultural icon.
But can this transformation really be regarded as part of the discourse
of cultural nationalism? Or is it only window-dressing an exotic oriental-
ism that ostentatiously dresses up the superhero in recognizably Indian garb
while its conceptual core remains American (cf. Rohit Gupta)? While the
folklore of ichchadhari nagas is largely restricted to indigenous popular cul-
ture, the association of India with snakes, especially cobras, is one of the most
recognizable stereotypes within orientalist discourse. The very rst Nagraj
comic, in fact, abounds in the invocation of such orientalist stereotypes, rang-
ing from the gold idol of a goddess that is mysteriously protected by fero-
cious snakes, the miraculous transformation of an ordinary-looking child into
a snake-man when he is fed the ashes of an ichchadhari naga, to the all-pow-
erful sadhu (sage), whose untold mental powers far exceed any known phys-
ical powers as embodied in Nagraj. Such specic plot devices, but more
importantly, the overarching mythical worldview that they represent, are very
much part of a well-established orientalism that clearly demarcates the
rational/scientic/modern West from the nonrational/mythical/traditional
East. From this perspective, Nagraj appears to be no different than Bombaby,
an American comic that also draws upon orientalist stereotypes regarding
Indian mythology and culture (cf. Basu). There is, however, a crucial differ-
ence between the two the difference in intended audience, and consequently,
the impact of such so-called orientalist material. While Bombaby is clearly
meant for a Western, specically, American, audience (as is evident by its
place of publication and distribution), Nagraj is very much conned not just
to an Indian readership, but more specically to a vernacular readership, since
very few Nagraj comics have been translated into English. And this regional
specicity means that while for the majority of the audience of Bombaby, the
Indian elements would have the avor of alien exotica, for the readers of
Nagraj, the entire worldview, from ichchadhari nagas to powerful sadhus, would
hold the appeal of familiarity, of a cultural afnity based on easy recognition
rather than estrangement. The self/other dichotomy that underpins the recep-
tion of an Indian comic character in the United States is completely miss-
ing in the Indian reception of Nagraj which, for its intended reader, is very
much part of self identity. In fact, Nagraj comics can be seen to function
as a way of consolidating this self through the codication of a specic
Indian cultural identity. It is this codication that makes Nagraj part of the
discourse of cultural nationalism that gained currency during the 1980s.
This cultural codication is governed by an ideology of nativism whose
invention of India is closely related to the orientalist construction of India.
Largely ignoring the complex multicultural history of the subcontinent and
its sociopolitical dynamism, this denition of Indian culture traces its ori-
gins to a mythical pre-history and gives it an explicitly, and exclusively, Hindu
gloss. Both these elements are evident in the portrayal of Nagraj. Not only
does this superhero have close connections with the mythical species of
ichchadhari nagas, but also his individual origins are in themselves ambigu-
ous, shrouded in mystery and becoming progressively more mystical. The
rst comic in the series, which is simply entitled Nagraj, merely makes the
hero the abandoned illegitimate child of a rape victim who has subsequently
been looked after by a temple priest (who happens to be an ichchadhari naga)
until the evil Professor Nagmani nds and adopts him for his own purposes.
But even this shallow grounding in social realities the passing reference to
rape and the priests desire to nurture Nagraj into an avenger of his mother
is soon undermined in subsequent comics where Nagraj is associated with
Nagdweep, the home of ichchadhari nagas, and is crowned their king. This
mythical dimension of Nagrajs adult life is then, by the mid1990s, extended
to his origins when, in the volume Khajana, Nagraj is revealed to be the
boon-child of royal parents who was miraculously saved by the snake-god Kal-
jayi, the family deity, from certain death, and then mysteriously hidden for
over 40 years before being found by Professor Nagmani in an abandoned
temple. Interestingly, the verbal narrative of this origin story does locate these
events within a temporal framework, tracing Nagrajs birth to the early part
of the 20th century. But the visuals accompanying this narrative depict
Nagrajs birthplace and parents in terms that, by the conventions of comic
art established by the Amar Chitra Kathas, place them within the realm of
ancient mythical India. Mystical royal origins combined with a mythical

iconography, thus, clearly place Nagraj outside history. At the same time, the
abundance of temples, Devis (goddesses), and Sadhus of different hues in the
life-history of Nagraj, as well as more generally, in the plot lines of the comics,
roots the entire series in an explicitly Hindu ambience. Even the moral frame-
work governing Nagrajs crime-ghting activities is given a specic Hindu
denition when, in the second comic of the series, Nagraj declares himself to
be playing the role of Rama in destroying the evil Lanka-like network of
terrorists who are the contemporary Ravana. This invocation of Rama most
clearly connects Nagraj to the discourse of cultural nationalism that began in
the 1980s, whose central icon is Rama, its agenda, the re-establishment of Ram
Rajya in India, and its symbolic ght, the reclaiming of Ramjanmabhoomi
(the birthplace of Rama).
This valorization of a mythical Hindu past does not, however, make this
discourse backward looking. Far from indulging in any sentimental nostal-
gia, this brand of cultural nationalism has a militant focus on the present, on
a time when various forces, both internal and external, are alleged to pose a
threat to this Hindu identity. The rareed mythical past is invoked only as a
source of strength, as the basis for an identity that enables action in the here
and now. Nagraj, the superhero, lives very much in the present; he lives in
Mahanagar, a modern Indian city, and ghts international terrorism, a very
modern form of evil. Nagdweep, the home of ichchadhari nagas, of which
Nagraj is the elected King, and Takshaknagar, the birth-city of Nagraj, whose
treasure he receives as its rightful heir, are both far removed from this mod-
ern India the rst in space, the second in time. His knowledge of these two
places, and his association with those belonging to them, are the source of
his powers, but these are used to ght evil in the modern world. And this
evil, as mentioned earlier, is primarily claimed to be terrorism, a term and
a phenomenon that came to the forefront of Indian popular consciousness in
the 1980s with the Khalistan movement that resulted in the assassination of
Prime Minister Indira Gandhi by her own bodyguards and the bombing of
Kanishka that killed all 329 people on-board an Air India ight from Canada.
The global links of terrorist networks, which became obvious during inves-
tigations into the airline bombing, and the apparent inability of established
security forces to contain this threat to national integrity, clearly overdeter-
mine the emergence in India, at this particular historical juncture, of a super-
hero like Nagraj. An extraordinary man whose powers derive from a mythical
Hindu past but who is launched into the world through a terrorist network,
Nagraj embodies the intertwining of the past and the present within this dis-
course of cultural nationalism. Even at the visual level in the physical por-
trayal of Nagraj we can see the intermingling of tradition and modernity.
While his snake-skin and ashing gold earrings establish his links with ancient
mythical traditions, his suit and shades as Raj, the public relations ofcer at
Bharati Communications, place him rmly within the modern global corpo-
rate world. Interestingly, it is Nagrajs ancient treasure that makes it possible
for him to launch Bharati Communications, an enterprise whose purpose is
twofold to act as a sound economic investment that will allow the treasure
to grow, and to provide good programming (read Indian rather than
Western) to Indian television viewers. The modern spirit of entrepreneur-
ship as well as the power of the visual media are both openly embraced by
this discourse of cultural nationalism, signaling its comfortable coexistence
with a First Worlddominated capitalist globalization and its accompanying
consumerism.
Nagraj, thus, is very much an Indian creation, a topical 1980s cultural
product, that can be read neither as a simple slavish imitation of Spider-Man,
nor as a self-conscious postcolonial subversive mimicry of the American super-
hero tradition. Instead, it may be seen as a occupying a third category a
native adaptation that is neither an attempt to catch up with nor a form
of talking back to the metropolitan original. Instead, it is an Indian ver-
sion of a commercially successful American cultural product, which, never-
theless, stands independently; reading (and enjoying) Nagraj comics does not
require any familiarity with Spiderman or any other American superhero. In
this respect, Nagraj is signicantly different from the foreign collaboration
superhero creations that have appeared more recently on the Indian comic
scene; whether it is the lm Krrish, Gotham Comics Spider-Man: India, or
the various production of Virgin Comics, all of which are rmly rooted in a
global economy at every level, from production to consumption. Nagraj, on
the other hand, remains local, published from a basement facility located in
the semi-urban outskirts of Delhi, retailed through railway bookstalls and fast-
disappearing corner stores, and read by a vernacular population that remains
on the periphery of the urban-cosmopolitan, upwardly mobile Indian mid-
dle class.
How these comics are actually read by this audience whether Nagraj
is decoded from a dominant-hegemonic position, through a negotiated
version or in terms of an oppositional code (Hall, Encoding, Decoding
101 03) is the subject of another study. But I would like to end with a quick
look at one example of how the encoding of the Nagraj series in terms of
its content adopts a strategy of negotiation rather than either total acceptance
or radical rejection with respect to the two dominant cultural discourses
the American superhero tradition and Hindu cultural nationalism that
inform its comic universe. The issue under consideration relates to the
national identity of Nagraj. In the over 120 Nagraj comics published so far,
there is no reference to Nagraj as a specically Indian superhero, as a

defender of either India or of the Indian way of life. Nagrajs constituency
at all times is referred to more generally as samaj (society), and though mid-
way through the series Nagraj does settle down in Mahanagar (a ctional
Indian city), his sphere of activities continues to be global. And this lack of
explicit national afliation extends to the comics visual representations. Apart
from a two-part series that focuses on the Taj Mahal, there is no iconographic
invocation of India in the comics, either in terms of the artwork or the ink-
ing; neither national symbols nor the tricolor scheme of the Indian ag makes
any noticeable appearance in individual story frames or the cover pages of
Nagraj comics. This absence is a signicant point of difference from the Amer-
ican superhero tradition, where red, white and blue as well as the American
way permeate the comic universe of characters such as Superman and Spi-
der-Man (see Jewett and Lawrence 313, Scott 330). At the same time, this
absence also silences an important element in the discourse of cultural nation-
alism whose visual media articulation is awash with waving tricolors and
references to Indian culture, Hindutva and the like. One way of under-
standing this lacuna in the Nagraj comics is in terms of its aforementioned
rootedness in the local rather than the global or even the national. The Nagraj
universe is regionally familiar within its circulation range, but such regional
identity does not require an explicit national afliation. And this local
identication, as mentioned earlier, is very much in terms of a Hindu world-
view, so the absence of any explicit invocation of the nation does not actively
undermine the discourse of cultural nationalism. However, the afliation of
Nagraj within the comic world with either the local (Mahanagar, or the res-
idents of Nagdweep) or the global (from Africa to America, with help from
people of various nationalities), while conspicuously skipping over the
national, may also be seen to make Nagraj an embodiment of the glocal
a third space that is relatively autonomous with respect to the hegemony of
both corporate globalization and militant nationalism. It is this possibility,
enabled by the implicit dialogism of the Nagraj comics, that makes Nagraj
much more than just an Indianized American superhero; it makes Nagraj
symptomatic of vernacular popular culture as a precariously poised space for
the articulation of alternate identities and discourses of empowerment.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Basu, Samit. The Indian Superhero. Posted 3 July 2006. http://samitbasu.blogspot.com/
2006/07/indian-superhero.html (3 August 2007).
Bhabha, Homi. Of Mimicry and Man: The Ambivalence of Colonial Discourse. The Loca-
tion of Culture. New York: Routledge, 1994, 8592.
Emmons, Robert A., Jr. Modernism and the Birth of the American Superhero. Last Updated
19 October 2005. http://www.sequart.com/articles/?article=704 (3 August 2007).
Haldipur, Vrushali. Indian Superheroes? Thats a Myth! The Times of India, 21 July 2004.
Available at http://timesondia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/785204.cms (3 August 2007).
Hall, Stuart. Encoding, Decoding. The Cultural Studies Reader, edited by Simon During.
New York: Routledge, 1993, 90103.
_____. Notes on Deconstructing the Popular. Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: A
Reader, edited by John Storey. New York: Harvester, 1994, 45566.
Jewett, Robert, and John Shelton Lawrence. The Problem of Mythic Imperialism. The Jour-
nal of American Culture 2.2 (Summer 1979): 30920.
Khajana. Nagraj series. Written by Anupam Sinha and Hanif Azhar. Artwork by Anupam
Sinha and Vitthal Kamble. Edited by Manish Gupta. Raj Comics No. 60 (n.d.).
Kurien, C. T. Global Capitalism and the Indian Economy. New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1994.
Lang, Jeffrey S., and Patrick Trimble. Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?: An
Examination of the American Monomyth and the Comic Book Superhero. The Journal
of Popular Culture 22.3 (Winter 1988): 15773.
Mathur, Suchitra. Personal Interview with Sanjay Gupta, Founder of Raj Comics. 8 March
2007.
Nagraj. Nagraj series. Written by Parshuram Sharma. Artwork by Pratap Mulik. Edited by
Manish Chandra Gupta. Raj Comics No. 14 (n.d.).
Scott, Cord. Written in Red, White, and Blue: A Comparison of Comic Book Propaganda
from World War II and September 11. The Journal of Popular Culture 40.2 (April 2007):
32543.
FILMOGRAPHY
Mr. India. Dir. Shekhar Kapur. Starring Anil Kapoor, Sridevi. Producer Boney Kapoor. 1987.
Shahenshah. Dir. Tinnu Anand. Starring Amitabh Bachchan, Meenakshi Sheshadri, Pran.
Producers Bitu Anand, Tinnu Anand, Naresh Malhotra. 1988.
16
The Roving Eye Meets Traveling
Pictures: The Field of Vision and
the Global Rise of Adult Manga
Holger Briel
In the West (and I use this word in the broadest possible sense), readers
of comics have been on the move. In recent times, it seems many of them
have traveled from Donald Ducks Duckburg, Calisota, to Tokyo, Japan. By
now manga ( Japanese comics) are dominating global comic consumption.
The West continues to be awed by the size and complexity of the Japanese
manga market. In Japan, many manga books appear weekly, bi-weekly or at
least monthly, with print runs of up to 6 million each. Since 1995, when the
circulation gure for all manga in Japan was a staggering 1.59 billion, the
Japanese market has remained relatively stable, dipping slightly only recently.
The annual Japanese manga market is estimated at around $5 billion (cf.
Watts). Unlike in the West, almost half of all manga are destined for the adult
market (cf. Schodt 83). Top manga artists can easily draw seven-gure annual
salaries, and publishers make vast amounts of money in the process. In com-
parison, according to Thomas Dartige, Bandes Dessines manager for the
French book, video and audio seller FNAC, the best-selling French comic
book of all time was Le Galre dOblix with 2,950,000 copies sold (cf. Fous
de BD). However, this gure has to be seen in the context of the trans-age
phenomenon of Asterix itself. Other comics in France simply cannot match
such huge sales gures. The second-highest-selling comic only achieved
670,000 copies (Fous de BD). For adult comics, the gures are even lower. In
the United States, adult comics engender print runs between 15,000 and
30,000 copies only (cf. Gehr).
Something else the West has not been able to emulate is the versatility
187
of the Japanese comics market. Magazines about gay love produced exclu-
sively for young women (June, circulation 100,000), magazines for very young
boys (Coro Coro, circulation 800,000), magazines for adolescent boys (Weekly
Boys Jump, circulation 6,000,000), womens erotic manga (Fixx and Comic
Amour, the latters circulation being 430,000), manga for young mothers (Yan
Mama Comic, monthly circulation 130,000) and even manga from the AUM
sect are available. The most successful serialized stories then appear as com-
plete story books of their own, bringing in additional revenue. Furthermore,
fan involvement is also much higher than in the West. While there are fan
conventions, the involvement of Japanese fans goes much further; their con-
ventions are huge events with hundreds of thousands of participants. But fan
involvement does not stop there. A phenomenon which has only recently
appeared in the West is devotee art (dojinshi), in which enthusiasts write and
paint their own stories based on characters of a certain cult series, or continue
a series after its demise. These fan manga themselves sometimes become hugely
popular, either in printed form and or on the Internet.
While the rest of the world is no match for such dedication, it is catch-
ing up fast. In 2005, manga were a $180 million market in the United States;
in Germany, every month 50 new manga appear and thereby capture about
50 percent of the German comics market, a gure holding true for most of
Europe. The 2004 sales gures for France, one of the mainstays of European
comics production, show that manga had captured more than 20 percent of
the market and accounted for almost $50 million in revenue.* Even more
recently, in January 2007, manga for the rst time completely dominated the
comics sales charts in France.
Despite their popularity, problems with the reception of manga abound.
Here are only three examples: Until very recently, manga were received in the
West as a distinct and exotic other when compared to Western comics such
as those from the Franco-Belgian school or the American one. The case is, of
course, not that simple. One could argue that Japanese comics took this very
detour via Duckburg as well. An example: 150 years ago, big eyes were not
usually considered to be a sign of beauty in Japan. They are, at least partly,
a foreign element in Japanese aesthetics, having been introduced after the
opening of Japan to the West in the second half of the 19th century and with
further Americanization starting in the 1950s. In effect, then, one of the few
dening features of manga that Westerners agree on, the large eyes of manga
protagonists, are fake foreigners (cf. Donald Richie, passim), as they come
out of the Western tradition. This should right away lay to rest any argu-
ment along the lines of an essentialist orientalism. It is therefore not a sim-
*http://www.lovemanga.co.uk/date/2005/10/26/). See also Masters.

16. The Roving Eye Meets Traveling Pictures (Briel) 189
ple comparison of them vs. us, but the inquiry has to go much further than
that.*
Secondly, one of the doyens of comics research in Germany, Bernd Dolle-
Weinkauf, in his 2006 essay on the globalization of comics points out the
cultural intertextuality of manga, correctly calling them a mix of styles
(n.p.). This is certainly true; however, this statement can also only be a begin-
ning. It does not absolve one from nding out what the exact historical and
social situation for the mixing of these ingredients was and still is. What is
not addressed by Dolle-Weinkauf is that any particular mix is also the local
at any given time, with very nicky parameters. The roots of manga by far
transcend any cultural mix imported into Japan. They can be traced back to
the Animal Scroll of the 12th century, a popular satire on the clergy and Japa-
nese society. Perhaps the most famous forerunners of todays manga artists
was the painter Hokusai (17601849), whose woodcuts of the 19th century,
among them the 36 Views of Mount Fuji and The Great Wave at Kangawa,
proved to be a vast visual treasure trove for manga. But the real manga explo-
sion did not happen until the 1950s, and admittedly, foreign sources played
a major part in this development. Japan had taken on board the serialization
of comic strips from American sources and tweaked this medium to its own
needs. And lastly, such a view contributes little to the explanation of why this
particular local mix is so successful today all over the world.
A third example: In his 1999 Systme de la Bande Dessine (hereafter BD),
Thierry Groensteen, otherwise one of the best structuralist analysts of comics,
is equally challenged to add manga to his carres smiotiques. He rightly states
that BD are not an object, but a champ, a eld (BD 21), thereby opening
up the discussion of different styles and philosophies. For him the BD image
is always un art de fragment et un art de enchanement (BD 26). But then
he also speaks of the solidarit conique of the solidarity of the text and
image within a frame, its self-identity in the frame and its reliance on the
bande horizontale the horizontal order of appearance, as a primary order.
While Western comics are also, more and more, breaking out of these molds,
I would very strongly claim that neither conic solidarity nor a horizontal read-
ing are as denitive for manga as they are in the Western comic tradition.
*In this context, it is worth remembering that the first modern manga is generally considered to be Osamu
Tezukas 1947 New Treasure Island, taking the Westerner Robert Louis Stevensons Treasure Island as
a model. Tezuka is considered to be the father of modern-day manga and became famous with the long-
running Astro Boy series.
Many parts of the animal scroll, such as the Choju Giga, the Scroll of the Frolicking Animals, are
attributed to Kakuyu (also know by his honorary title, Toba Sojo), 1053 1140 (cf. Priest 1953, passim).
This enchanement that Groensteen claims for comics is also true when looking at the larger picture.
In effect, the history of pictorial art can be read as a global comic strip, with picture following upon
picture.
When receiving nonWestern comics, that solidarity is shattered. Western

sequencing, both visual and narrative, is at least questioned, if not obliter-
ated, by manga.
The question to be answered then is, why this recent Japanese domina-
tion of otherwise rather diverse comic cultures? Is it simply the otherness,
and particularly the violence and sexual depictions that attract Western read-
ers, as is often suggested? Is it the cuteness of the characters? Is it the narra-
tive technique? The answer is an elusive one, consisting of various cultural,
artistic, religious and economic facets. Within the remit of this contribution
I will attempt to sketch some of these facets, but a denitive answer will have
to await further study. As such, my remarks can best be prolegomena to a
deeper study of the subject. To further focus this text, I have chosen to leave
aside the large offering of manga for children and adolescents and concen-
trate on adult manga instead. Of course, as is the case in Japan as well, the
transition from adolescent to adult wares is uid.
VIEWPOINTS
Among other factors, mangas arrival was eased by a change in Western

readership. While childrens comics had gone mainstream in the 1970s, a new
comic genre began to appear in the 1960s, at rst in the United States, as a
reaction to the stringent U.S. comics code introduced in the early 1950s.
Those were underground comics, with decidedly adult themes. Robert
Crumb, Gilbert Shelton, Larry Welz and others led the way, publishing in
small, subversive, bad-quality and small-print-run magazines. Starting from
these small circles, a whole alternative network began to appear whose soft-
ware included music, lms and comics, ttingly often sold in head shops.
Roger Sabin says of the comics culture of this era:
The underground is best understood as a product of the profound social
changes that racked the West in the 1960s and 1970s[...]. At the centre of these
developments was a generation that viewed society as essentially reactionary and
bellicose, and which instead interested itself in pacism, sexual freedom, minor-
ity rights and perhaps, most notoriously, the benets (spiritual or otherwise) of
drugs[...]. In America, the rst undergrounds can be traced to the mid 1960s
self-published, small-scale affairs, which were often not intended for wider dis-
tribution[...]. At the same time, individual alternative strips found a home in
the American counter-culture newspapers [Sabin 3637].*
*The fact that it was mainly underground publishing had to do with the early 1950s war against comics,
culminating in the censorship of almost all violent and sexual content. For an impression of the sever-
ity with which this war was fought, cf. the 1948 Code for the Comics from Time magazine.
In Germany, it was mostly the magazine U-Comics that followed this

American example, published by Volksverlag, a publishing house associated
with the drop-out movement (cf. Dolle-Weinkauf 286). In France it was
Fluide Glacial, founded by Marcel Gotlib in 1975. Teenagers and young adults,
having grown out of their childhood comics and weaned on underground
texts, were then ready for further adventures in adult comics. As an example,
in the 1970s in Switzerland the comics magazine PIP International, with its
mostly sexual topics, already moved into the direction Penthouse comics would
go in the 1980s.* In the 1980s, on the back of such successful Japanese chil-
drens cartoons as Astro Boy or Speed Racer, manga and anime arrived rst in
the United States and then in Europe. In this respect, an interesting research
area yet to be explored would be the inuence of American underground
comics on manga themselves.
But exactly who were/are mangas audience in the West? It seems very
clear that one of the main draws of Japanese comics was their perceived exotic-
ness, and with it, the promise of a new (comic) culture. Making these manga
available in Europe and the United States was not all that easy. In his topi-
cal essay, Translating Comics, Rota mentions a few problems in comic trans-
lation from the Japanese:
As in Japan nearly all comics are in black and white, publishers colored them
for the North-American market, which, in contrast, publishes almost everything
in full color. However, Japanese comic authors usually employ cross-hatchings
and chiaroscuros in a massive way, in order to compensate the absence of color;
the mingling of these graphic techniques with colors created a disagreeable out-
come, and the effect of both colors and cross-hatchings was spoiled. Soon pub-
lishers (and readers, of course) realized this inconvenience, and nowadays no
Japanese comic is published in the United States in color. Nevertheless, there
are some cases in which the coloring of a black-and-white comic can produce
good results, or even improve the original work: Katsuhiro Otomos Akira, for
instance, is much appreciated in the edition colored by Steve Oliff for Marvel
Comics (thanks to the graphic style of the author, less rich in cross-hatchings),
and this version is well known in Western countries today. The peculiar charac-
*Cf. http://www.comicguide.de/pics1/large/38757.jpg. Of course, this diversification of the comics mar-

ket would not only drift off into sleazier areas. Another offshoot, into a very different direction, was
the rise of feminist comics. The antholog y Twisted Sister, based on a comic created by Diane Noomin
and Aline Kominsky in 1976, might serve as an example. Furthermore, Wimmens Commix (1972ff )
would pick up on 1970s feminist trends and continue to propose feminist issues. With regard to Japa-
nese women and sexually explicit manga, see Shamoon, who gives a compelling interpretation of why
explicit eroticism for women in Japan might be more acceptable than for women in the United States.
For an interpretation of gender relations in manga, see Izawa. A look into female super heroines in
U.S. comics is taken by Klhr and enlarged upon by Merino.
Speed Racer was the series with which in the 1970s Japanese anime came to Germany. However, it
was broadcast only for a few weeks, and then very quickly pulled as it supposedly carried excessive vio-
lence.
ter of the North-American market, which is dominated by super-hero comics,

constitutes another cultural barrier. Curiously enough, what in other countries
are considered mainstream subjects (familiar settings and comedy, for instance),
are here considered minor genres, and are usually published in black and white
by small houses. However, super-hero stories, which constitute the bulk of the
production of comics in the United States, include many sub-genres, ranging
from adventure to horror and from science ction to magic [Rota 2004,
451 52].
It became clear from the onset that with the introduction of Japanese
manga not only did they have to be altered (e.g., the famous ipping and
opping, of changing the Japanese writing and style to the Western left-to-
right format), but their Western markets would also insist on receiving them
in different ways and forms. It is worth remembering that comics formats in
the West generally differ and range from French deluxe albums and Italys b/w
comics, to a mix of forms, books and magazines in Germany. One example
of such a transcultural shift is the German edition of Walt Disneys stories of
Donald and Mickey, Walt Disneys Lustige Taschenbcher, which started in
1967 and is still running today. While the content is of U.S. origin, the for-
mat itself was taken over from the Italian edition and only then proved to be
popular.
No matter how tricky these more practical aspects of manga reception
were, other, more basic questions in their regard would require answers. The
main question is this: How well does such an assembly of text and image trans-
late from one culture to another? What kinds of processes play a role here?
While we readily accept that most words need translation in order for them
to be understood in another language, is this also the case with images? Are
they in need of translation as well?
In his challenging and comprehensive text, Das echte Bild, the art his-
torian Hans Belting readily concedes that signs/words are in need of a cer-
tain (linguistic) convention in order to be understood. However, images exert
more power on their own account (Belting, Das echte Bild 8). The common-
place phrase A picture is worth a thousand words might be cited to further
underline this fact. And indeed, many a philosopher has agreed with this
statement. One of the most profound theories of perception came form Mau-
rice Merleau-Ponty. In one of his famous phrases, he rejects the Cartesian
model of (self-)understanding and states: It is not enough to think to see
(Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenolog y of Perception 270). For him, to truly see goes
beyond cognition and triggers responses inaccessible via enlightenment phi-
losophy. He declares the primacy of perception over cognition, thereby
strengthening the signicances of objects vs. the thinking subject. In this
respect, the eye is very different from the ear, which is a passive instrument,
whereas the eye actively seeks out and excludes/includes materials in its view,
thereby pretending to be dealing with objective phenomena.* In this way, the
innocent to see always already is to theorize what one sees.
This is of course not to say that we do not interpret what we see. Humans
tend to do this continually in a subconscious way, but according to Merleau-
Ponty, there are at least two different modes of perception: Perception is
effected either through associative or through focused attention. Focused atten-
tion happens when there is a strong directive bond between our mind and
the items viewed, for example, when attempting to nd our way on the road.
Our vision will search out items that experience has taught us will help us in
our quest to nd the way road signs, topographical particularities, etc. Asso-
ciative perception, on the other hand, would celebrate the being lost on the
road, as it is only then that we will truly be open to the images presenting
themselves to us. Merleau-Ponty readily admits that the rst kind of percep-
tion is necessary, but that the second has been overlooked for too long. I
would claim the second one as particularly fruitful when perceiving the cul-
turally other image. It is the open road of these phenomena that intrigues
us, questioning our pedestrian understanding of things. Furthermore, with
his insistence on the relationship between the sensor and the sensed, Mer-
leau-Ponty is able to do justice to both: the sensor in her/his individuality
and the sensed as an object, but an object of a very special kind:
Our experience of perception comes from our being present] at the moment
when things, truths, and values are constituted for us; that perception is a nas-
cent Logos; that it teaches us, outside of all dogmatism, the true conditions of
objectivity itself; that it summons us to the tasks of knowledge and action. It is
not a question of reducing human knowledge to sensation, but of assisting at
the birth of this knowledge, to make it as sensible as the sensible, to recover the
consciousness of rationality. This experience of rationality is lost when we take
it for granted as self-evident, but is, on the contrary, rediscovered when it is
made to appear against the background of non-human nature [Primacy of Per-
ception n.p.].
*Cf. Wohlfahrt 1994. In a similar vein, Lacan had claimed as early as 1964 that the view point (point
de regard) is not to be found in geometral space and always already inheres the ambiguity of a jewel
(Lacan 65 66). Before Lacan, Wittgenstein had argued for different ways of seeing, privileging the
Sehen-als, an aspectual mode of seeing in need of linguistic interpretation, to be closely linked with
a critique of a particular way of seeing an object and also of the object itself (cf. Sample 216f ).
Others have also taken these ideas onboard, for example, Chris Jenks when he differentiates between
seeing and observing. For him, much of our modern preoccupation with over-scientification and reifi-
cation of human concerns stems from the confusion of those two ways of seeing. And in an application
to cinema, Laura Marks wants to reclaim visual apperception from an objectifying view by coining the
phrase haptic visuality. Waldenfels, building on Max Imdahls theories (233 35) differentiates between
sehendes Sehen and wiedererkennenendes Sehen (innovative seeing vs. mere recognizing seeing ).
In perceiving, rather than in just observing, we put signicance back

into the perceived object, thereby doing it much more justice than by mere
deduction. Sensation is here understood as co-existence between object and
subject. Merleau-Ponty even speaks of this act of perception as voyance, a
perceptive act defying rationality. He also uses the concept of the pli, the
fold, as a metaphor to describe this relationship of seeing and the seen fur-
ther, whereby the unseen achieves founding status over the seen (Merleau-
Ponty, Eye and Mind 262). Within the eld of perception, these folds allow
us to make discoveries and draw conclusions that would otherwise not be pos-
sible. They are only possible because the visible is dependent on its opposite,
the invisible. Without the latter, the former could not exist. In this vein, the
description of the nonWestern reception of manga might be described as
the reading of a palimpsest, as a document written over many times. The orig-
inal writing (and many of its cultural subplots) has been erased and overwrit-
ten. Much of it has become invisible or at least indecipherable. And yet, the
power of the image continues to live on despite, or perhaps because of, much
of its previous sense being invisible.
To take this further, in a text from 1998, Der Ort der Bilder, the art his-
torian Hans Belting uses the concept of palimpsest to describe how the indi-
vidual becomes the sole reserve of vanishing pictures in a medial society: Wir
reisen unaufhaltsam im anonymen Verkehrssystem der Rume und kommuni-
zieren im weltweiten System der Netze. In dieser neuen Welt verschwinden Orte
aber nicht spurenlos, sondern bilden ein mehrschichtiges Palimpsest (38).
Manga traveling from Japan are precisely such already scraped and
overwritten texts by people, epochs, fads and interacting cultures. When they
arrive in the West, they receive yet another layer of reception by specic sub-
jects in a specic historic situation. Of course, in the traveling process, much
of the cultural referents are lost or at least altered. But this is a general occur-
rence that happens in any translation. However, there are ways of softening
this loss, as much is gained in the transference as well. Rather than decrying
the loss of cultural referents, for Belting, these traveling pictures are one of
the last resorts in which fading local cultures might survive:
Im Global Village stoen wir auf einen Bewohner, der immer auch Einzel-
gnger, Reisender und auf seinen Reisen Partisan ehemaliger lokaler Kulturen
ist. Er bleibt der Ort der Bilder, die ohne ihn im Leeren zirkulieren wrden[...].
Der nomadische Weltbrger, der an keinem geographischen Ort mehr zuhause
ist, trgt Bilder in sich, denen er noch einmal einen Ort mit vergnglichem
Leben, mit seinem eigenen gibt [Der Ort der Bilder 39, 41].
In a telling passage, Belting uses the image of a Malaysian rice eld as
an example and contends that as aesthetic product it nowadays almost only
exists away from Malaysia (Der Ort der Bilder 4546). Might I be so bold
as to suggest that Japanese (visual) culture as an aesthetic product also survives

if not best, at least very well, in the pages of manga?
One last concept might also prove helpful here. It is the one proposed
by the art theoretician Erwin Panofsky. In Studies in Iconolog y, he differenti-
ates between pre-iconographic, iconographic and iconological interpretations
(1532). Pre-iconographic interpretation would simply look at the composi-
tion of an image in terms of color, lines, shapes and similar imagistic vocab-
ulary. An iconographic interpretation would require the knowledge of sujet,
historic period and perhaps also artist. Lastly, the iconological interpretation
would then build on the previous two and open up new ways of seeing an
image. It seems that the rst two steps might very well be possible when view-
ing a document from another culture. The third step, the iconological inter-
pretation, might differ considerably when comparing receptions from within
a culture as when receiving it as a culturally other. However, if one has taken
the second step, the third kind of interpretation, even if differing consider-
ably from a more native one, cannot be considered wrong. Indeed, as Belt-
ing suggested in the passage quoted above, the non-native interpretation might
reveal things a native one cannot.
While nobody would doubt the global power of images, there are nev-
ertheless important provisos to be made. Depending on where one is situated
in this world, the associations evoked by an image might be very different.
To take the globally most valuable brand as an example: the poster of a Coca
Cola bottle will evoke different reactions from viewers in the United States
than from those in Iran. And while this has to do with more recent histories,
it claries the point I am trying to make: pictures are perceived in a very par-
ticular and culturally dependent way.*
STORIES OF SEEINGTHE WEST

In Western history, images have been dealt with in very specic ways.
Their receptions are connected to the history of linguistic signs. In many
ways, the history of images moves between pure idolatry and abject rejection.
In his aforementioned texts, Belting argues that the adoration of images came
to a halt for the rst time with the reception of the Ten Commandments by
Moses, a text supposedly manufactured by the only true god and replacing
*Arthur Danto is one of the philosophers who insist that there exists a global picture language (Danto
2004, 144). I would agree with him, but only up to a certain point. As the above-cited example illus-
trates, even the same image can evoke rapidly different reactions. And yet, this universality still exists,
albeit in a more limited form. One might think about the iconicity applied by a company such as the
furniture shop Ikea. Their wordless manuals are designed to work anywhere, with people expected to
be able to follow iconic instructions only. However, this works only once theyve been introduced to Ikeas
language, which admittedly is a very basic one, but one that needs to be learned nevertheless.
the worship of images. Words superseded images. This would remain the case
until Jesus was born. Within the Christian cosmology, with his birth, word
had become esh. But while this should have put to rest the argument once
and for all, this was hardly the end of the story. A battle would commence
which is still continuing today, with the dominance of media by the word or
the image at stake. For the rst 300 to 500 years after Jesus birth, words clearly
had the upper hand.* It would take until A.D. 500 to nd paintings of Jesus,
and even until the Renaissance to nd nonreligious paintings in the West.
And while there existed several iconoclastic movements, the image always
returned triumphant. In this regard it is worth remembering that the visual
adoration of Christ was not a new artistic moment but had had secular pred-
ecessors in the painting and sculpting of emperors and nobles.
With a deeper feeling of iconicity relegated to the Eastern Church as
early as the late rst millennium, the onset of the Renaissance changed the
situation even further. With the arrival of the Gutenberg era in particular,
images lost their remaining truth claim to, by now omnipresent, writing.
Belting describes the resulting situation for paintings as enlightened icono-
clasm, with paintings having lost their remaining claim to any supernatural
religious status. Their supernaturality and truth claim would however not
be lost, but would return in the guise of the aesthetic of the sublime. In the
Renaissance and Reformation, dealing with religious images would get even
more complicated. As the word had become the new fetish, paintings were
also asked to take sides. Painters had to decide whether they wanted to paint
in a Catholic or in a Protestant way, in each case following certain stringent
conventions. And the winning ways of the book would permeate paintings
even further. Paintings started to become formatted like books, with the trip-
tych on the alter changing into a diptych reminiscent of an opened book, as
was the case with many of Cranachs paintings. Already here we can see that
the reception of paintings differed in major philosophical aspects from user
group to user group and depended on which kind of iconographic back-
ground one hailed from. Still, one has to keep in mind that all these differ-
ent approaches originated from the same cultural realm.
Another development that would take place during the Renaissance and
undermine any seeming truth content of paintings was the introduction
of perspectivism in Italy by Leon Battista Alberti (14041472), the painting
*Cf. Bauch, who he traces the reduction of the image ( Jesus on the cross) to a sign (the cross) in the
name of Christianity.
The issue mostly revolved around the divine nature of Christ and how this could be banned onto a
canvas. As in Islam, many influential church fathers believed it to be sacrilegious to paint a god.
This claim to divine intervention still existed in the Byzantine Orthodox Church, for instance with
the acclaimed Acheiropoietos (an icon reputedly not made by human hands).
technique in which closer objects would be painted in larger forms than objects
further away in order to give a painting depth.* From now on, painters could
claim to be nearing representational truth only if they lied in the process of
painting the picture. Equally important, there existed another moment in
paintings that undermined any truth-claim: letters as signiers of either an
accepted source, such as the initials of the evangelists, the INRI itself, or, and
this brings us to the modern age, the initials or the name of the painter.
More so than ever before, paintings became artifacts positioned between
the ambiguity of life and mediality. And this mediality would increase fur-
ther as the auratization of the initials of religious gures gave way to the aura-
tization and market capitalization of painters initials on their paintings. Any
signature would take away from the illusion of the painting, becoming a
fetishizing manner of assigning value to a painting. In Japanese and Chinese
traditional painting the illusion of truth had never existed in such a form.
Perhaps sensitized to the issue by the fact that ideogrammata bear a much
closer resemblance to paintings than the Latin script, traditional Chinese and
Japanese paintings always prominently incorporated letters and comments
within their frames. In this way, what was deemed an illusion in the West,
that is, the painting as true image or representation of a certain reality, had
never really existed as such in the East. Hence, it was much easier for the East-
ern visual tradition to accept the PictureImage of comics than it was for the
West, where an iconoclastic distrust of the image lingers on even today.
STORIES OF SEEINGJAPAN
The history of seeing was encoded in Japan quite differently. And while
many similarities exist between the Western and the Eastern ways of viewing
*While Alberti is usually credited with having invented the theory of perspectivism, its practice can
already been observed in Giottos frescoes around 100 years prior to Alberti, and even in frescoes stem-
ming from Pompeij.
Incidentally, this lying of the painting would put it into close proximity to the then emerging nar-
rative form of the novel, which ever since its invention by Cervantes was also charged with lying about
reality. It seems that these kinds of lies are dangerous to any powers that be as they are questioning
traditional patterns of interpretation. In a more general stance, and in Lacans wake, Bernhard Lypp
has pointed out that a mirror always offers us the alternative that: 1) whatever we see in a mirror is
true representation or 2) whatever we see in a mirror is a lie, because we cannot be in two places at the
same time (cf. 436 39).
Proof of this is the still-continuing fight of conservative newspapers such as Le Figaro, The Times or
the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung against pictures, and colored ones at that, on their front pages,
an area traditionally reserved for sense created by linguistic symbols alone.
The following can of course only be a brief and unjust rendition of the vast topic of Japanese art. For
a more extensive treatment of this topic, I would direct readers to the texts by Mason, Sadao, Ohashi,
Lambourne and Yamamoto listed in the bibliography.
images, one has to be aware of major differences as well. Early Japanese art
depicted Buddhist religious imagery, which had been introduced to Japan by
A.D. 552 at the latest. Pictures were even used in death rites, with the belief
being that if a dead person held a picture of Buddha in his/her hands, a direct
entry into Buddhist paradise would be assured. In a further step, and simi-
lar to the West where imperial adulatory paintings were taken as a model for
Christian iconography to follow, Japanese painting began to combine Shinto
and Buddhist elements in portraiture. While it had been considered unright-
eous to portrait a persons face during the Heian Period (A.D. 794 to 1185),
from the 14th century A.D. onward portraits of priests abounded. But simi-
lar to secular movements in Europe, paintings of landscapes (in Japan inspired
by Zen Buddhism) became abundant during the 15th and 16th century, replete
with a move toward perspectivism as exemplied by Josetus painting Catch-
ing a catsh with a gourd from the early 15th century. Furthermore, por-
traits of courtiers (Onna-e) and of battles (Otoko-e) broadened popular
sujets.
But the tastes of the wider public also began to be taken more seriously.
Fuzokuga paintings, depicting scenes from common life, began to appear.
Within this eld there was also created the mass market wood print, Ukiyo-e
(pictures of the oating world), which would prove to be vastly popular dur-
ing the Edo period (1603 to 1868) and become a forerunner of manga. Ukiyo-e
is a wordplay on the homophone term Sorrowful World, the world of death
and rebirth Buddhists sought to escape and left behind by life afrming artis-
tic manifestations. Its topics were thoroughly urban, oftentimes erotic in
nature (shunga), harkening back to Chinese models, with pictures about
kabuki theatre, brothels and courtesans as staple fare. These were popular with
commoners and liberally enjoyed by men and women alike. The shogunate
did not take kindly to such depictions however, and in the 17th and 18th cen-
turies attempts at censorship were made (1661 and 1772). But only later, in
the 19th century, would such topics be toned down in favor of oral elements
and landscapes, helped once again by the censorship act of 1842. However,
through the introduction of photography this particular depiction of sexual-
ity had started to lose its edge anyway, and would have to wait until the 20th
century to be revived through adult j hachi kin (18-restricted) manga and
anime.
As a general point, one can underline the fact that, based on Chinese
models, sexuality as depicted in paintings was very common in Japan and was
much more widely accepted than was the case in Western art. Thus, while
many historic art movements were similar to those in the West, particulari-
ties such as a different attitude toward the depiction of nudity within Japa-
nese visual history need to be given due credit.
TECHNOLOGY
Now that we have looked at the distinctly different histories of seeing in

the cultures of the West and Japan (and to a lesser degree, of China and
Korea), it is time to turn to the specic conditions under which postmodern
receptions of culturally others take place. By the 1980s, Japan had begun to
economically dominate the West. Japan was on the rise, was selling cars and
electronics as never before, for a while even threatening American economic
hegemony. In turn, it also came to be seen as a fascinating cultural other.
One outcome was the thematic reliance on broadly Japanese subjects that
often manifested a strong reliance on mytho-technological themes, leading
to new genres such as cyberpunk. Manga is a prime example of this new inux
of the Japanese imaginary. In addition to this the Internet began to appear
in the early 1990s, making the distribution of images a matter of seconds. It
might be argued that the inux of Japanese manga would have never been as
strong, or at least would have taken much longer, if this means of distribu-
tion had not existed. Much of manga and anime are now consumed via the
internet, rapidly changing the preferred mode of access.
But this was just the setting. It has already been hinted at that technol-
ogy plays an important part in the reception of images. In the history of visu-
ality one would have to name the inventions leading up to and comprising
photography and moving images. Much of what has been labeled the iconic
turn can indeed best be attributed to technological advances that would in
turn lead to new ways of seeing. Increasing visual stimulation is a hallmark
of postmodernism, signs usurping the place of pure letters, emoticons speak-
ing of our techno-emotional status quo, Ikea symbols ruling our global pri-
vate, furnished lives. Conversely, Dadaism and Surrealism had agged up the
inltration of pictures by words. Hybridizations followed text into image,
image into text, to varying, ever-changing degrees. Yet these hybrid pictures
are not the same as yesterdays. As a result of technology, human vision is
continuing to undergo substantive changes. These changes in vision have their
roots in the beginning of the 19th century. Jonathan Crary argues convinc-
ingly in Techniques of the Observer that alterations in Western vision were pre-
ceded by the unbundling of the senses at the end of the 18th century and then
furthered by technological inventions of the 19th century. Continuing the
paradigm shift that Giotto and Alberti had initiated for art and subjective
seeing, the stereoscope, in a much more scientic way, would make people
realize that what is seen is not out there in reality, but is rather synthesized
in their mind. Humans have been trained to see by their new visual aids
ever since.
The philosopher Vilm Flusser coined the phrase Techno-Bilder,
techno-pictures, for this new cultural material, of which photographs are the
earliest examples. Describing a pansocial phenomenon (but he could as well
be describing manga), he speaks of the decline of linear codes and the rise of
new kinds of visual codes:
Die Behauptung, dass das Alphabet und hnliche Codes gegenwrtig eine viel
kleinere Rolle beim Programmieren der Menschheit spielen als frher, whrend
die Bedeutung technisch erzeugter Bilder stndig wchst, scheint auf den ersten
Blick weit weniger beunruhigend zu sein als die Behauptung, die Menschen
knnten immer weniger dialogisieren und seien zunehmend von Massenmedien
programmiert. Betrachtet man jedoch die Sachlage nher, so stellt sich heraus,
dass es sich beim Umbruch der Codes um eine Umwlzung des Daseins han-
delt, die so radikal ist, dass sie nur mit jener verglichen werden kann, welche
zum geschichtlichen Dasein fhrte. Nur ist eben unsere Lage so beschaffen, dass
die Radikalitt der Revolution, an welcher wir teilhaben, von den Kommunika-
tionsstrukturen verdeckt wird [Flusser 224].
The sheer mass of pictures necessitates a rethinking of the relationship
pictures text. For Flusser, this new situation calls for techno-imagination,
for the ability to view these constellations discerningly. This new technolog-
ical seeing has far-reaching consequences, encompassing reinterpretations of
time, space and epistemologies. And, one might add, this new visuality also
has a strong Japanese touch. Nicholas Mirzoeff observes:
A younger generation takes the digital gaze for granted. On the Cartoon Chan-
nel, the hugely popular digitally animated gures of the Power Puff Girls deal
up the punishment of the bad guys once reserved for male superheroes alone.
The Power Puff Girls lack the ripped muscles of earlier Avengers but are drawn
in the style of Japanese anime with vast eyes perched on insignicant. These
digital eyes emit blasts of unspecied energy at their enemies, much like the
mutant Cyclops and Storm in the 2000 hit lm The X-Men, based on a long-
standing Marvel Comics series. The Power Puff Girls are pixilated panopticism,
in which the body is a vehicle for visual surveillance unhindered by a self or an
identity [11].
Mirzoeff aptly describes the dangers of relying excessively on the visual as the
only interpretation of the world. It is the belief in the infallibility of the gaze
that needs correction. Viewing the other might help. In this respect, comics,
and then especially those that originate from the Other, are a case in point.*
Not only do they force their audience to confront new Vor-Stellungen,
but to renegotiate ones own visual decoding mechanisms. At their best, they
question ones own vision, ones culture, ones perceptions and notions of the
*After all, Roland Barthes in his LObvie et lobtus already describes BD as mettent en scne un nou-
veau signifiant (56). While he had mostly the Franco-Belgian comics of his time in mind, his phrase
fits even better when applying it to manga.
appropriateness of interpretations. Manga lend themselves especially well to

this new visuality, as they favor the move away from the narrative, lexical
code. In the West, ideogrammata were received as pictorial and not as lexi-
cal elements of the panels. At least for nonJapanese speakers, their abun-
dance functions as a surplus visual code, at once heightening the need for
visual decoding and subtracting from the narrative one. This is the case not
only as a result of their formatting, but also because of their contents.
VIOLENCE
As already mentioned in regard to the anime series Speed Racer, the Japa-
nese depiction of violence has been problematic in the West, perhaps in
Europe more so than in the United States. But important points must be
raised here. First of all, violence in a Japanese context invariably is of the local-
ized, fantastical kind. Frederic Schodt, along with Scott McCloud perhaps
the most respected manga scholar in the West underlines this thesis by stat-
ing:
To a high school student in Japan, the notion of getting hold of a AK-47 and
mowing down the teachers in his school is clearly absurd, a fantasy. But to a
high school student in Los Angeles it is a distinct possibility[...]. The point here
is that the inherent stability of modern Japanese society in particular the sta-
bility of family life may give people more leeway in their fantasy life. And a
vivid fantasy life may act to defuse some of the more primal impulses that occa-
sionally come over all of us [51].
This also happens to be the ofcial position of the Japanese government,
although censorship continues to be an issue.
Similarly, one could argue that manga are also an escape mechanism
from the highly hierarchical, ritualistic and connotative Japanese society. The
further away from reality, the better. However, Schodts belief in the stabil-
ity of Japanese society seems a bit optimistic. It is true, crime rates are very
low when compared to those in the West, but negative attitudes, such as
misogyny, do not gure in the ofcial statistics. At the same time the loos-
ening of traditional ways of life, oftentimes initiated by young women hav-
ing been educated in the West and refusing to go back to these ways upon
their return to Japan, alone does not make for a stable society. Having said
that, Schodts example is nevertheless not without merit. The argument here
is that the fantasy is too removed from life to allow for imitation. A similar
and, I believe, successful argument was made with regard to the depiction of
violence in the Quentin Tarantino lm Pulp Fiction (1994). By now, the Taran-
tino style has become accepted as a fantastic genre sui generis in the West.
There were no more such discussions for his Kill Bill 1 and 2 (20032004)
lms and his double feature, Grindhouse and Death Proof (2007), which by
far surpassed his earlier lm in terms of gallons of blood spilt. But while vio-
lence was an issue, sexual depictions received much more attention.
SEX
Arguably, it was two feature lms that raised Western consciousness to

Japanese-style animation. The rst one was Katsuhiro tomos Akira (1988)
and the groundbreaking anime saga Urotsukidoji Legend of the Overend
(19871989) by Toshio Maeda. The latter in particular introduced a new genre
of adult anime to the West: tentacle sex. It arguably became the most infa-
mous adult Japanese anime of all time. Why did it enjoy such a success? It
could not have been the plot:
Demons, known as the Machi, have begun appearing in Japan as well as Man-
Beasts, known as the Jujinchi. Two siblings of the Jujinchi, Amano and Megumi
Jyuko, have come in search of The Overend within a young student named
Tatsuo Nagumo, a shy lech, who they believe may bring the Jujinchi, the Machi
and human race into a promised eternal kingdom based on an old Jujinchi
prophecy. Nagumo has begun a relationship with a young cheerleader by the
name of Akemi Ito after she is raped by a demon. She begins to understand the
circumstances behind Nagumos destiny. But opponents have begun to conspire
against Nagumo, Akemi, and the Jyukos. Could The Machi, Jujinchi, and
human race, see the beginning of a New World, or witness The End of The
World as we know it?*
Regarding its inception, it is worthwhile referring back to Dolle-Wein-
kauf and his intercultural mix. In a recent interview, Toshio Maeda
explained that the lm had been made before the 1993 easing of sexual cen-
sorship laws prohibiting the depiction of the male sex organ. So he had been
looking for something legal to take the penis place:
At that time [preUrotsuki Doji], it was illegal to create a sensual scene in bed. I
thought I should do something to avoid drawing such a normal sensual scene.
So I just created a creature. [His tentacle] is not a [penis] as a pretext. I could
say, as an excuse, this is not a [penis], this is just a part of the creature. You
know, the creatures, they dont have a gender. A creature is a creature. So it is
not obscene not illegal.
Drawing intercourse was, and is, illegal in Japan. That is our big headache: to
create such a sensual scene. We are always using any type of trick.
*http://imdb.com/title/tt0108461/plotsummary (15 October 2007).
http://www.bigempire.com/sake/manga1.html (15 October 2007).

I dont think this is enough of an explanation though. I would contend that

only in a society that already has a predilection for monsters and is used to
interacting with octopods such images might arise. And indeed, Japan was
such a society. There was nothing arbitrary about this topic showing up in
Japanese society. For the Japanese, such depiction would not be a new phe-
nomenon. The depiction of intercourse between a woman and octapodia has
a long tradition, going back to Hokusai and his Dream of the Fishermans
wife.*
Of interest here is the fact that the enjoyment seems mutual and not
forced as it mostly is in modern-day depictions of the same ur-myth. And it
is embedded in the story of an abalone diver named Tamatori, who steals a
jewel from the sea king and is then pursued by his minions. The sexual scenes
in this story are described as mutually satisfying and Edo-period audiences
would have understood them as such. Here, a religious element also plays a
role. During the Edo period, Shinto religion replete with animism was resur-
facing in Japan, thereby legitimizing such images even further. In terms of
anime and manga, other examples of tentacle and/or appendage sex include
La Blue Girl, Injukyoshi (Obscene Beast Teacher), Alien from the Darkness
and Advancer Tina.
I have already hinted at intraJapanese attempts to enforce censorship
of sexually charged images. And indeed, the perceived weirdness and dirt-
iness of Japanese adult manga has always drawn the most criticism and inter-
est in the tabloids of the West. Sex piques the interest and sells; this was the
case for photography, lm, and also the Internet. This is not to say that Japan
has a general laissez-faire attitude toward sexual depictions. It is to say, how-
ever, that certain manifestations of sexual depiction are historically and cul-
turally more sanctioned than perhaps somewhere else. Japan has always had
strong censorship. It was only as recently as 1946 that freedom of the press
was legally guaranteed, but for Japanese manga censorship had been intact
until the late 1980s:
Manga had until then observed the explicit prohibitions against overt depictions
of sexual intercourse and adult genitalia (derived from an interpretation of Arti-
cle 175 of Japans very vaguely worded obscenity laws) as well as a general, more
implicit social consensus about what was proper and what was not [Schodt 53].
This led to a surge in sexually explicit material. In 1993 the last censorship
law fell, and depictions of pubic hair and sexual organs were legalized, the
*http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/44/Dream_of_the_fishermans_wife_hokusai.jpg
(15 October 2007)
For a further treatment of the entwinement of sex and aesthetics, see Yamamotos explanation of the
Japanese term iki (n.p). For more sensationalist accounts, see Gehr and Watts.
former itself an example of a strange prohibition from a Western point of view.

This particular prohibition had already led to an extraordinary phenomenon,
where Japanese manga were sent abroad to be de-barred (the affected areas in
the panels had always been censored with a black bar), and then sent back to
be consumed, a re-retranslation with culturally vertiginous effects. Often-
times, censorship is still hinted at, but rather ironically. Another concession
to the Western, especially U.S. market, is the following notice added to manga
sold outside of Japan: All characters [...] are aged 18 years of age or older.
No actual or identiable minor was used in the creation of any character
depicted herein (qtd. Garrett 144). I leave it to the reader to decide how much
sense this one makes. The ght over censorship, however, is still continuing
in todays Japan in the guise of the harmful books act.*
When it comes to sex, it is worth remembering that just as with visual-
ity, there is no universal sexuality. Western sexuality, as well as other local-
ized sexualities, are themselves always historical constructs. In her book Der
Wille zur Lust, Svenja Flassphler reminds us how the Western subject of sex-
uality was created through very specic historic situations: The French Revo-
lution, the perceived death of God and the rise of the subject gave rise to a new,
de Sadean writing component. The philosopher Michel Foucault had of course
already elaborated on how the modern subject had arisen. Flassphler extrap-
olates from his theories of power and perversion, but underlines the difference
between the will to lust and the will to knowledge, which she rates higher.
However, she also has to concede that more recently the difference between
sexual and aesthetic stimulation has been eroded (cf. Flassphler 10). One could
also remark that the difference between simulation and stimulation exists in
a single t. Sufce it to say that since and through de Sade, Western art has
added the outright pornographic to its repertoire of tropes as a central mecha-
nism for a new, nonmetaphysical subject. In her criticism of the fake reality
of pornography, Flassphler is unable to differentiate further between vari-
ous strands of such mediated products. Pornography itself is not a monolithic
and culture-independent unit, but rather culture dependant. The reality of
adult manga and their erotic imagery outside Japan can therefore also only
be fractured, estranged. And since most adult manga are consumed via the
Internet, one might even speak of an estrangement of the technological kind.
Lastly, the differentiation between pornography and erotic art has always
been a difcult one, if not fatally awed from the start. Yet, one can certainly
make certain observations regarding the appearance of such material. Since
1993, Adults-Only labels had to be put on the covers of adult-themed manga
*Cf. A History of Shojo, Loli, and Harmful Books.
Cf. the texts by Lucie-Smith and OToole.

in Japan. When searching for manga on the Internet, one is invariably pointed
toward commercial providers dealing in all kinds of categorized pornogra-
phy. It is fair to say that most commercially viable sex sites have some kind
of manga available, neatly partitioned into several segments tentacles, mon-
sters, gay sex, domination, submission and even straight sex. When looking
at single-frame hentai, these pictures do not attempt, and herein lies the crux
of the story, to give sexual depictions any narrative, let alone sociocultural
grounding. Oftentimes, the story the panels tell is destroyed, engorging one
of its subtexts into its only raison dtre. Other hentai, as comic stories, are
not solely concerned with sexual aspects and keep panels intact and/or pro-
vide co(n)-texts, thereby, I would argue, at least making an attempt to giv-
ing a more rounded picture.
WAYS FORWARD
Over the last 25 years or so, comics have also been following this iconic
turn and have generally emphasized visuality over text. Groensteen rightly
asserts that: [1]volution esthtique de bande dessine depuis un quart de
sicle a t dans le sens dune libration de limage (BD 192). Artists such as
Moebius, Enki Bilal, Alan Moore, Milo Manara and others might serve as
examples.* This movement toward visual predominance had played mangas
way, as it is assumed that a picture book with many frames without text is
more easily accessible than a conventional Western comic with a stronger tex-
tual base. That this assumption is fallacious has, I think, by now been demon-
strated. Their visual surplus, particularly the visual usage of the ideogrammata
and other Japanese lexical indices, could be read by nonJapanese as pictorial
rather than as textual markers and serve as further proof of the increasing
power of the image. Thereby, what Groensteen asserts for all comics is espe-
cially true for manga: Montrer et raconter sont, pour le dessin narrative, une
seule et mme chose (BD 192).
One might also state that the West is haunted by the abstraction of the
letters of the alphabet because writing has forgotten its visual beginnings and
has been suppressing images (and thereby its own history) ever since. In Japan,
this relation is rather more conciliatory and one might constitute a tacit agree-
ment between picture and ideogram. However, even this agreement is not
nal. A case in point is the tradition of those Haiku that are hung on trees
so that nature could modify the writing. And Belting (Der Ort der Bilder
*Incidentally, these are also the only well-known Western comic names in Japan. Yet, their sales figures
demonstrate how low their market performance is. In his Nouvelle Manga Manifesto Boilet relates
the sales figure of only 6,000 copies for one of Bilals comic books in Japan (Boilet 2001).
49) tells us of Chinese cliff writing, a way to combine lexis and nature,
whereby any writing on nature would invariably be changed by nature itself.
It was again Frederic Schodt who attempted to dene the basic differ-
ence between Western and Japanese comics when he wrote: Until recently,
many mainstream American comics still resembled illustrated narratives,
whereas Japanese manga were a visualised narrative with a few words tossed
in for effect (26). Schodt argues convincingly why manga are such an elab-
orate cultural system in Japan:
[In Japan] a 320-page manga-magazine is often read in twenty minutes, at a
speed of 3.75 seconds per page. In this context, manga are merely another lan-
guage, and the panels and pages are but another type of words adhering to a
unique grammar. Japanese say that reading manga is almost like reading Japa-
nese itself. This makes sense, for manga pictures are not entirely unlike Japanese
ideograms, which are themselves sometimes a cartoon, or a streamlined visual
representation of reality (Schodt 26).
Leaving aside the problematic notion of language being a representation of
reality, it is nevertheless worthwhile keeping in mind that it is through the
emulation of the ideogrammatic roots of the Japanese language that manga
has become a mainstay of Japanese culture. And this is also a pivotal point
when it comes to their reception in the West: these linguistic roots are not
present and hence challenge ones vision, when a translation of reading
processes becomes necessary, a remembering of the differences in cultural
material available and its processing in the two cultures in question.
One possible reaction of Western artists to the dominance of manga is
to incorporate manga styles in their own work, a development that is increas-
ing in Europe and the United States. Another reaction is for the artist to move
to Japan. A case in point is the Frenchman Frederic Boilet, who in 2000
issued a New Manga Manifesto. He concedes the draw of manga, argues for
the Western adaptation of more self-drawn, fan art and then proposes a new
gendering of manga, turning le manga into la manga. From a French
viewpoint, he reasons:
Having only been used in the French media for a few years, le manga is
unfortunately already perceived in a very stereotypical way by both the public
and the media. Manga in its masculine form is shorthand for a cheap Japanese
comic book for children and teenagers, that is simultaneously violent and
pornographic: the Japanese equivalent of the sleazy imported Italian comic
books of the past....
Were well placed with our own BDs and comics to know that stereotypes
die hard once theyve become associated with a word [n.p.].*
*Here, Boilet is certainly pointing out important intercultural facts. Unfortunately, he falls into a
stereotypical trap himself in that he others sleaze by assigning it an Italian background when it comes
Beyond le manga, essentially Japanese comics for a public mostly composed

of teenagers, there is la manga, referring to Japanese comics dauteur that
are adult and universal, that speak of men and women and their daily life: a
manga closer, for example, to the lms of Yasujir Ozu and Jacques Doillon
or to the novels of Yasushi Inoue than to Sailor Moon or Luc Besson.
Boilet refuses to pit the two styles against each other and searches for
common ground:
When one looks at la manga and BD dauteur, that is to say more adult
manga and BDs, the differences almost completely disappear. While many series
targeted at specic audiences can only attract their respective fans (either of BD
or manga), who are already familiar with, or nostalgic for, the codes and man-
nerisms of the genre, smooth and innovative albums by Fabrice Neaud or Kiriko
Nananan seem to me perfect for readers of BD and manga, specialists and neo-
phytes, French and Japanese people alike [Boilet n.p.].
Boilet argues for a depiction of the universal realm of daily life. And indeed,
so-called slice-of-life manga have become much more popular in recent times,
and while incorporating violent and sexual elements, go beyond any such nar-
row topic. Boilets own work is also not shy when it comes to sexual situa-
tions. Granted, the sexual and violent is inherent in the inception of any
technology and perhaps culture, and anime and manga series such as Death
Note and Battle Royale, to name only two very successful recent manga and
anime of the more violent kind, will remain popular. But then there exist series
such as Genshiken (20022006), which actually make fun of the other gen-
res and are able to successfully hold their own in the Japanese and, increas-
ingly, the Western markets as well.
The nonJapanese reception of manga is a forceful example of what has
been called cosmopolitanism (cf. Tomlinson, passim), this globalization arrived
at through the global reception and variable local reinterpretation of certain
cultural artifacts.* In order to make this phenomenon an enriching experi-
ence, learning to go beyond its granted entertainment value is imperative, that
is, the reguring of cosmopolitanism as a critical practice. Cultural differences
continue to exist despite globalization, and counterfertilizations are quickly
becoming the norm. The framework of the analyses of power structures within
these trance-ferences is helpful in revealing the mercantile interests inher-
ent in mass media production and distribution, no matter where on earth;
another panel of this story portrays and betrays its audience, insisting on hav-
ing changed their vision, immaterially and materially.
to comics. This is despite the fact that other countries, including France, have always had their own
share of sleazy comics.
*See also the excellent remarks by Featherstone et al. on the globalization of culture (passim).
In order to understand the rise of manga in the West, one has to look
at the conditions prevalent in the Western comic markets at the time. Rea-
sons for their rise were the powerful, seminal texts, an audience ready for new
reading/viewing adventures, the technological status quo of society, global-
ization and the general and still increasing rise of the global visual. Through
the use of new visual techniques, human vision might perhaps return to a
more primordial sharing of visionary perception, something philosophers such
as Merleau-Ponty had always argued was the case already, but which had been
decidedly obscured and even altered through the rise of different cultures, or
Ways of Seeing, as John Berger had titled his inuential text. A fear such as
Heideggers, that the world as image, as depiction, would arrest the dynam-
ics of being, are perhaps overly vigilant. Images themselves are highly com-
plex objects that carry within themselves a history and a dynamic of their own.
Manga can play an important role in exemplifying this moment. They are no
pure pictures. They themselves have undergone multicultural changes dur-
ing their own genesis, and they also require of their nonJapanese readership
a questioning of their own modalities of perception, and this not only in
viewing an (exotic) image, but even more so in decoding them. The post-
modern visionary is on its way to becoming global not because everybody is
seeing the same pictures, but because the means of diffusion are becoming
omnipresent and synchronous. On the back of this global distribution process,
the local returns, adapts and changes content, as the cases of Boilet and his
la manga and other nonJapanese mangaka aptly demonstrate. Lacans
appetite of the eye will and should not be arrested, but it can be trained to
include some healthy consumption habits. Manga will certainly have their
share in this endeavor. In any case, they rightly lay to rest the Wests illusion
of being the only global culture.
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17
Kawaii vs. Rorikon:
The Reinvention of the Term
Lolita in Modern Japanese Manga
Dinah Zank
Originally made famous as the name of a literary character, Lolita has

today developed into a multifaceted term. Psychology, literature, comics or
youth subculture all these elds advance their own denitions of Lolita.
This is especially true in the case of Japan, where affection for adolescent girls,
as well as the development of a protected and idealized image of adolescent
girlhood (shjo bunka), has a tradition that can be traced back at least to the
early Edo period (16001868), if not further. From this source has sprung a
decidedly distinctive girls culture, which is nowadays characterized by a highly
stylized, cute and childlike appearance and behavior (kawaii). Kawaii has
spread not only through a variety of Japanese subcultures but is now also vis-
ible in mass media, especially in manga a medium that has a decisive impact
on the aesthetic perception of most Japanese from their early childhood.
With the recent global success of Japanese comics, the graphic and cul-
tural vocabulary of manga has become common coinage around world, but
to gauge the actual dimension of the connected phenomena one still has to
turn to Japan. On the streets of Tokyo or any other Japanese city one can
spot many adult women wearing pink Hello Kitty accessories or come across
frilly-dressed girls who proudly call themselves Lolitas.
It is interesting to note that the word kawaii cannot only be translated
as something (innocently) cute but also as (decisively not so innocently)
sexy. It does not, therefore, surprise that kawaii is also omnipresent in the
Japanese erotic industry. In erotic manga, a genre called rorikon (an abbrevi-
ation of Lolita complex in Japanese pronunciation) focuses on the clearly
211
sexual depiction of adolescent-looking girls in kawaii style. Despite the often-

cited Japanese licentiousness in cultural matters, rorikon has ignited erce dis-
cussion among Japanese critics for more than three decades now.
The new wave of manga that has been sweeping across Europe and Amer-
ica since the middle of the 1990s has brought both Japanese connotations of
the term Lolita (the cute and the sexy) to the West. Where it had been
almost impossible to imagine a (female) youth subculture based on embrac-
ing the concept of Lolita in the Western understanding of the term, the mod-
eling inuence of Japanese manga has led to a shift in perception among
European youths and has sparked off the development of a Lolita girls sub-
culture. However, this new subculture is often wrongly associated by outsiders
with the original Western concept of Lolita. It is thus important to rst trace
the signicant differences in the development of the term in the West and
Japan when discussing Lolita in the context of Japanese comic culture.
In Europe, the concept of Lolita rst appeared in 1916 in the eponymous
German short story by Heinz von Lichberg as the pet name for the main char-
acter, Dolores. This story provided the model for Vladimir Nabokovs novel
Lolita (1955), which immediately became one of the most famous and contro-
versial works of modern literature. The plot of this novel is as famous as it is
simple: Humbert, a middle-aged man, is hiding in the 1940s in America from
the Nazi regime and moves into the house of the single-parent Charlotte and
her 12-year-old daughter, Dolores, whom he calls Lolita. The girl reminds
him of his long-gone rst love, Annabel Leigh, and he decides to marry the
mother to be able to stay with her daughter without arousing suspicion or pro-
ducing complications. When Charlotte suddenly dies in an accident, he is afraid
to lose his stepdaughter and takes Dolores with him on an aimless trip from
motel to motel. Humbert and the girl become lovers, but Humbert is still try-
ing to exert some kind of fatherly authority, which leads to their relationship
becoming increasingly violent. Dolores starts to take money from Humbert for
sexual favors and later on elopes with Quint, another man several years older
than she is. When Humbert discovers that Quint is abusing Dolores for the
lming of pornographic material, he decides that he has to kill him.
Nabokovs successful novel but also the earlier version by von Lich-
berg, which differs in many important details from the later adaptation by
Nabokov (in von Lichbergs story, for example, Lolita is not a real girl but an
ethereal adolescent goddess in an oil painting) provided for a lot of con-
troversial discussion among psychoanalysts. As part of Siegmund Freuds and
C.G. Jungs remapping of the human psyche, the term Lolita complex was
introduced in the early 1920s into the European discourse on sexual taboos
and resulting neuroses. Jung described the Lolita complex as a sexual xation
of an adult man on an adolescent girl which is neither still child nor yet
17. Kawaii vs. Rorikon (Zank) 213
woman. In theory, the Lolita complex is caused by the trauma of a man los-
ing his rst love during his own adolescence, or it results from an excessively
strong (and sexual) relationship of a man with his daughter. From the per-
spective of the girl, her affection for the older man grows out of an equally
strong relationship to her father (the so-called Elektra complex). Freud, on the
other hand, viewed the Lolita complex as a kind of sexual perversion that is
caused by male fear of a self-condent adult woman or femme fatale, which
leads to the male need to dominate a weak young woman. The mixture of
sexual fascination and disgust, of lust and neurosis described by Freud and
Jung has consequently shaped the Western perception of the term Lolita, espe-
cially since the topic was readily picked up and exploited by the entertain-
ment and erotic industry. As a consequence, the term Lolita gained a mainly
negative meaning, variously connected with pedophilia or mature women
acting innocent and vulnerable to seduce men.
In Japan, by contrast, the development of the term took a slightly but
signicantly different route. The rst Japanese version of Nabokovs Lolita was
published as early as 1956, but there are no signs that a problem-dominated
discourse like the one in the West was ever sparked off by the book. One rea-
son for this may have been that Japan had by then already developed its own,
positively connotated kind of idealized girls culture (shjo bunka) in the Meiji-
period (18681912) and the rst half of the 20th century.* Neither child nor
married wife, the adolescent girl, for a preciously short period of time, stood
outside the rigid Japanese social structure, thus gaining an exceptional posi-
tion of freedom away from the daily duties and usual expectations of society.
The idealization of this status in shjo bunka was inuenced by the glitter-
ingly romantic Takarazuka theater, which, to the present day, is performed
only by female actors. Another inuence were early womens and girls mag-
azines, which infused female Japanese culture with the Western poetry and
art of Romanticism, of the Pre-Raphaelites, and of Symbolism. This led to
the world of adolescent girls being romanticized and mystied not only in
ction and art but, in turn, also in daily life.
Early examples of shjo bunkas essentially peaceful dream world of ado-
lescent girls are the magazines Jgaku zasshi (established in 1885 as a proto-
feminist support for the education of girls by Iwamoto Yoshiharu), and Shjo
kurabu (established in 1923 by Takabatake Kash as a female follow-up to
*For an overview over the development of shjo bunka from 1868 to 1920, compare Gomarasca 33 35.
Similar processes of adaptation of European art into Japanese manga are still going on today, as can
be seen in Yamato Wakis illustration of the death of Yugao in the series Asakiyumemishi (1980 1993),
which recalls J.E. Millaiss painting Ophelia (1852). For Wakis drawing, see http://digilander.libero.
it/smosites/asaki/AG_08.jpg.
For further information on Iwamoto and the Jogaku zasshi, see Brownstein.
the boys magazine Shnen kurabu from 1909). The graphic vocabulary of,
for example, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (18281882) or John Everett Millais
(18291896) was thus imported to Japan and blended with traditional Japa-
nese visual narratives. After World War II, inuences of American Pop Art
underwent a similar process of assimilation into Japanese comics, and the
inuence of Western art is still very visible in contemporary manga aimed at
young girls and women (shjo manga).
Compared to the early 20th century, the situation of girls regarding their
education has, of course, dramatically changed and with it also the daily life
of the adolescent Japanese girl. In reality, the transitory period between child-
hood and adulthood is not any longer only the dreamy eye of the storm and
just care about your rst love phase idealized in shjo bunka. In modern
Japan, teenage girls nd themselves living through the often-criticized exam
hell of middle school, where emancipated young women struggle as hard as
their male counterparts for a place at a top-ranking high school, which is a
prerequisite for professional success later in life.
But even though times have changed, the mystied image of the adoles-
cent girls world still looms large in the Japanese mind, and this might explain
why Nabokovs novel with Humberts urgent wish to reconnect to the sensa-
tion of his rst love and the combination of this with his affection for the
adolescent Dolores did not cause much of a stir in Japan. It simply tted too
well into the narrative structures of shjo bunka and consequently has not
come to be viewed from the angle of a perverted pedophilia but as an emo-
tionally understandable story of a man wishing to reclaim part of his youth
lost during the war by living through his rst love again. In Japanese eyes,
Humberts journey thus appears not so much as a guilty ight from perse-
cuting authorities but as a search for a place where to live his dreams, a place
he nds by entering the peaceful world of the young girl.
Naturally, the concept of the Lolita complex as developed by Freud and
Jung is also well known in Japan. But instead of connecting Lolita automat-
ically with the Lolita complex, both terms remained separated from each other.
While Lolita complex (roricon) came to signify the sexual attraction of a young
woman (no matter whether the man is older or of the same age), Lolita devel-
oped into an essentially positive synonym for the adolescent girl herself. In
the Japanese sense of the word, a Lolita is sweet and adorable, a young woman
idealized to the point of perceiving her as living on a different, unearthly
plane. A Lolita has to be cared for, and she has to be protected from the ugly
sides of daily live. This idealization of the Lolita as an innocent and ethereal
creature, who deserves adoration from others while staying entirely passive
and never drawing attention to herself intentionally, is the main difference in
the understanding of the term Lolita in the West and in Japan.
This also explains why we nd two different interpretations of Lolita in

the world of Japanese comics. The two views are represented in two distinct
manga genres, which are, although very similar in their graphic vocabulary,
completely different in context and content. Kawaii-kei (i.e., cute style or
systematically cute) is a subgenre of shjo manga and directed at a female
audience, aged between 14 and 25 years, while rorikon is a subgenre of porno-
graphic adult manga, directed at a mature male audience.
During the great manga boom of the early 1980s in Japan, amateur manga
(djinshi) appeared on the comic market and earned their place alongside the
professionally published manga. This also became visible in the presence of
djinshi at comic conventions and on the shelves of comic stores. In contrast
to the work printed by professional publishers, these manga did not have to
care about most of the censorship laws. Accordingly, erotic manga produc-
tion directed at the male audience of the emerging and quickly spreading
otaku culture* ourished. Rorikon started as a small insider market at Tokyos
comic convention, Komiketto, but it is today one of the most successful gen-
res of erotic manga in Japan and maybe in the world.
According to a survey of The Japan Times from December 2005, many
otaku prefer a virtual girl to a real one because virtual girlfriends do not cause
trouble, have no expectations and on top of that have a nearly perfect
appearance (see Kaoru). The childlike appearance of female rorikon charac-
ters is rooted in the glorication of girls culture in Japan and therefore shares
the graphic vocabulary of shjo manga, which create a pastel, harmonic and
secure refugium for the reader. The development of the rorikon style is also
indebted to a specically Japanese censorship law prohibiting the depiction
of pubic hair but not the depiction of genitals in photography and drawings.
Rorikon is consequently rmly linked with the attraction of a girl looking
but not necessarily being adolescent.
On the other hand, a female counterpart to the rorikon genre developed
in the context of girls manga along with the rise in popularity of kawaii con-
sumer goods and the hype of girls culture in the mass media. In what was
originally meant as a statement against the debasing of female characters in
adult manga, a group of young female coplayers embodied rorikon characters
at the Komiketto convention in Tokyo in 1983 and thus unintentionally started
a fashion trend that has grown over the years into the Lolita subculture of
contemporary Japanese metropolises. The new trend was soon adopted for
the mass media by pop idols like Matsuda Seiko and other artists (see
Gomarasca 40f ). The participants in this now fashionable, slightly feminis-
*Otaku literally means house or safe retreat and describes extreme hardcore fans who retreat from
normal social life to life entirely inside the virtual spaces of manga, anime, and video games.
tic subculture initially called themselves burikko (i.e., fake child, an origi-
nally derogatory term describing a woman who dresses as a girl to get the
attention of men), but are nowadays much more positively referred to as rori.
Today, this subculture has also completed the transformation from a mere fash-
ion trend to a complete counterculture of Japanese youths, who rebel against
the conformity of the mainstream and still nd one of their main platforms
in shjo manga.
Typically, teenagers and young adults create a childlike dream world for
themselves that is reminiscent of illustrations from childrens book classics like
Lewis Carrolls Alice in Wonderland, fairy tales of the brothers Grimm, or
classical Japanese romances like, for example, Tales of Genji, a book that dates
from the Heian period (7941185). With what is a new version of the no
future attitude, the rori refuse to grow up and fulll the expectations of Japa-
nese society (see Kinsella 96). At the same time the exceptional position of
adolescent girls in Japan has enabled the rori to adopt a post-feminist philoso-
phy of not ghting for equality of the sexes but looking at girls or young women
as naturally superior beings. Aspects traditionally viewed as feminine, like grace,
beauty, light-heartedness, and cuteness, are embraced as the essence of the new
movement. The Lolita subculture, which now also increasingly includes boys,
thus makes use of a tradition that dates back to the aesthetics of 11th-century
court culture in Japan and mixes this tradition with European aesthetics, for
example, of the French court in the 17th century or the Victorian age.
A weekly manga series created by Mitsukazu Mihahara in 2002 for KERA
magazine shows that this ancient tradition is very much present in the mind
of the youths. The series was designed like a Tarot game, and two accompa-
nying texts were written by the bestselling author and professing male rori
Takemoto Novala.* Freely translated, the rst text reads:
This chamber is my kingdom.
It shelters many different subjects.
Im not only a princess.
Im the ruler of this chambers kingdom
for eternity [10].
The second text deals with the merits of being born as a girl and the aw of
being born as a boy. It thus becomes the condent manifesto of a female rori.
Because Im a girl I wont carry any heavy things. Because Im a girl, I merely
like to eat sweets. Because Im a girl, I wont pay any attention to things I dont
*For the original Japanese text and images see Mihara/Takemoto 152 53.
First published in Mihara, Chokoleeto 10 11.The original Japanese text is: Kono heiya wa watashi
no kuni. Kerai datte takusan iru no yo. O-hime sama nanka janai wa. Watashi wa konokuni no eien
no shihaisha na no.
like. Because Im a girl, Ill take more than two hours to choose my clothes and
hairstyle, put on my shoes, piercings, rings and make-up.
[...] Im glad not to have been born as a boy. In the old days, boys were
viewed as special because they can do a lot of hard work. But today, they only
read and watch porn and toy with themselves. One does expect that they will
someday work as employees of large rms and will be called idiots if they arent
able to contribute to their countrys economic growth. One also does expect
that they will be able to protect their wife and children.
[...] I, on the contrary, will never ever change, no matter whether Ill stay sin-
gle, get married, or will have children. Im glad not to have been born as a boy,
for Im a princess. Im an empress. God save the Queen! [Mihara/Takemoto 152,
my translation].
Even if this text ironically plays with the clichs common in the glossy weekly
girls magazine it was published in, it still gives an impression of the self-con-
cept of the Lolita subculture. It expresses the views of the rori on job perspec-
tives and the restrictions of adult life in Japan. Against the expectations of
Japanese society they hold their determination to remain forever in the dream
world of shjo bunka instead of tting into a society that seems to offer noth-
ing but duties and restrictions. This escapist attitude, which is combined with
a proud display of girl power and individualism, is the main feature of the
modern Japanese rori.
Despite its relative popularity, the Lolita subculture has retained the
character of a counterculture and is still usually seen as a fringe phenomenon
even in Japan. Its unruly character is also evident in the fact that the move-
ment is still marginalized by the authorities and often thought to be connected
with juvenile delinquency. The undisputed center of the Japanese Lolita cul-
ture is the Harajuku district in Tokyo, which has often inspired art move-
ments, music and lifestyle trends over the last decades in Japan and beyond.
The personal, handwritten notes of the manga artists, which appear in almost
every comic, show that most of the usually female manga artists of the kawaii-
kei are actively involved in Tokyos Lolita subculture. The comic fans read in
these notes, for example, about the artists recent visit to a rock concert or
her favorite design label, about her preferred manga series and her recently
bought accessories.* In addition to this, the closeness to the Lolita subcul-
ture also shows in the plots of the comics, in the chosen aesthetics of the
whole manga and especially in the design of the characters. The style of draw-
ing usually employed has been described with the terms kawaii-kei or ultra-
*Tomoko Hayakawa, author of the series Perfect Girl Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge, for exam-
ple, proclaims herself a fan of the Japanese rock bands Sads and Baroque in each volume of her series.
She also dresses her characters in the fancy stage outfits of her favorite musicians and the clothes of hip
designer labels who follow the Lolita trend. Hayakawa is by no means exceptional in this excessive fan
behavior but rather acts along the lines of what is common practice among shjo manga artists.
kawaii, which means, as already mentioned above, systematically cute or

cute concept and has shaped an entire subgenre of Japanese shjo manga.
Aesthetics and classical design characteristics of shjo manga like overlarge,
sparkling eyes, overlapping and oating panels, or symbolic decorative ele-
ments are adopted in kawaii-kei and then supplemented with cute accessories
borrowed from child culture like strawberries, cherries, little owers, bunnies,
or cuddly toys. The fashion worn by kawaii-kei characters is especially strik-
ing. It is often reminiscent of elaborate court dress of the Rococo or Victo-
rian era. It is the same frilly, uffy fashion that the real Lolita girls wear on
the streets of Tokyo, a style that gives both the manga and the Lolitas a nos-
talgic, fairytale look. This nostalgia for childhood aesthetics in kawaii-kei is
enhanced by the almost exclusive use of pastel colors or, in the case of black-
and-white illustrations, by the avoiding of sharp contrasts through the use of
an extra-large spectrum of grayscales. The character design of even by manga
standards extremely oversized eyes, a very small mouth and an almost com-
pletely round face is combined with the doll-like, frilly clothing and thus often
gives the impression that the characters are little children, even if they are
as indicated by the storyline and by the usual marginal notes at least 13 or
14 years old.
A comparison between kawaii-kei and the erotic rorikon genre quickly
shows that both genres use the same kind of aesthetics and employ similar
sign stimuli. But where in rorikon manga the private parts of the characters
are usually clearly visible, this is never the case in kawaii-kei. Explicit sexual
interaction that goes further than a shy rst kiss is the exception in kawaii-
kei. In addition to the special graphic make-up, the guiding principle in this
genre is the impression of moe, a specically Japanese aesthetic concept that
can be translated as blossoming and entails a sensual but mainly spiritual
perspective that focuses on the moment when a girl rst recognizes her wom-
anhood. The concept of moe is part of the Japanese tradition of the idealiza-
tion of adolescent girls, and a famous modern example is Sakuras innocent
but longing adoration for her elder brothers friend Yuki in CLAMPs Card
Captor Sakura (1995). Sakuras admiration for Yuki is quite different from the
loving attention with which she looks after her brother, but her relationship
with Yuki is not explicitly sexual either. Her love for him is depicted as pure
and this is typical of moe as much more spiritual than physical. With this
aspect of moe in mind, one can hardly be surprised to nd this kind of blos-
soming love transgressing the usual borderlines of heterosexual love. This
can be seen, for example, in Shaoran, Sakuras (male) classmate, who is also
in love with Yuki and therefore continually quarreling with Sakura. At the
same time, Sakuras (female) classmate, Tomoyo, admires her the same way
as Sakura admires Yuki. Her obsession with her best friend goes so far that
she idolizes her like a pop star and constantly records her actions on video.
The concept of moe is thus translated in kawaii-kei manga into a concept of
devoted love for ones best friend or an idol (this could be a movie star but
just as well an elder schoolmate). According to the tradition of moe this devo-
tion is depicted as more intense and on a higher, more spiritual level than the
feeling for a sexual partner.
A more controversial and sexual take on kawaii-kei and moe is presented
in CLAMPs Chobits (2000). This manga was rst published in a mens weekly
called Young Magazine but then published as tankbon, that is, in book for-
mat, by Tokyopop, who cater for both male and female readers. CLAMP had
previously been known for their splendid shjo style illustrations and opu-
lent, romantic fantasy stories. As could thus be expected from CLAMP, Chobits
includes most of the common elements of shjo manga and kawaii-kei in its
arrangement, character design, and story line. A closer look reveals, however,
that CLAMP here consciously explore the grey zone between kawaii-kei and
rorikon.
In the manga, a ronin* named Hideki nds a computer in the shape of
a beautiful adolescent girl and takes her home with him. He is somewhat
embarrassed to nd that her power switch is situated right between her legs.
The moment he switches the android on, she instantly regards Hideki with
unblemished adoration. The only word she seems capable of saying is chi
and thus Hideki names her Chi. Although Chi does not appear to have any
programs installed in her, she seems to be able to learn from experience. After
a while, Chi begins to develop feelings for Hideki that persocons (person-
computers) are not supposed to possess. As Hideki also starts to feel some-
thing for her, the series then mainly explores the nature of persocons, human
interaction with them, and the nature of love in general. When Chi discov-
ers a couple of romantic picture books of mysterious origin, they seem to
awaken something deep inside her. The books inspire her to nd the per-
son just for me, a euphemism used in the series to refer to ones true love.
In the whole series, Chi is presented as very special and, according to the
genre conventions, she can thus be expected to nd her true love in the course
of the series and with that also her own identity.
The pin-up-like poses of Chi, who is mostly clad in frilly mini-skirts,
in combination with her childlike, innocent and vulnerable appearance make
her a model Lolita. As a newly booted persocon she is completely unconscious
of her effect on men and is thus unintentionally involved in a lot of sexually
*In Japan, the term ronin, which originally referred to a masterless Samurai, is nowadays used for a
student who has just graduated from college but has not been able to get into university yet, due to failed
entrance exams. These youngsters have to kill time for another year, working in part-time jobs and
preparing for the next round of entrance exams.
charged situations that ironically imitate typical rorikon scenarios. This

includes unthinkingly changing her clothes in front of a public audience or
trying to make her owner, Hideki, happy by posing like the rorikon girls
from his porn magazines.
The fth volume of the Tokyopop series deals primarily with Chis spe-
cial semi-consciousness and contains some very interesting scenes, which shall
be analyzed in the following. Chi is kidnapped in this volume by a computer
freak who wants to nd out how she works because she is in fact the only
persocon who is able to feel and learn from experience instead of being pro-
grammed or relying on a preinstalled operating system. In the ensuing action,
which again imitates rorikon scenarios, some scenes occur that are very typ-
ical for shjo manga and thus identify the comic as not only directed at a male
audience but geared in equal measure if not even more so to the tastes of
a young female readership.
When her abductor searches for her control mechanism, Chi states that
only the one person for her (this is of course her rst and true love, Hideki)
is allowed to touch her there. When Hideki later appears on the scene, Chi
guides Hidekis hand between her legs and repeats this statement. If this pic-
ture was seen isolated from the rest of the story, one could easily assume that
this is the opening of an erotic scene from a rorikon manga. Yet Chi is in fact
getting Hideki into a severe moral conict entirely untypical of rorikon manga.
He and the readers know all too well that it is Chis power switch that lies
between her legs, and so Hideki has to decide if he wants to retain her love
or to have sex with her. The latter would erase her memory and consequently
her feelings for him due to a loss of power. Following the genre conventions
of shjo manga, Hideki chooses love and so moe the passionate longing
that stops short of the sexual touch suddenly dominates the previously
rorikon-like scene. Moe here even takes a more complex and intense form
than, for example, the rather conventional character constellations of Card
Captor Sakura.
A second indicative scene occurs in the same volume when Chis kid-
napper considers using her as a sex doll and tries to grab her between the legs.
Instead of reacting with submissive passivity like a typical pliant rorikon char-
acter, Chi defends herself by capturing him with electric wires, a scene that
makes for an excellent, gender-inverted parody of the tentacle sex scenes of
Japanese porn manga.*
Such parodic moments are no rare cases in kawaii-kei manga. For exam-
ple, the cover of the rst volume of Utatane Hiroyukis erotic manga Cool
*See Chobits, Vol. 5, pp. 68 71, 84 85 and 88. For a discussion of the tradition of tentacle sex scenes
in Japanese manga, see also Holger Briels chapter in this volume.
Devices, which shows two girls in a cat and bunny outt stroking each other
in a sensual way, has a parodic copy in an art book by the girls manga artist
Koge Donbo. To understand the symbolism of the images, one has to know
that the animal outts relate to traditional Japanese iconography. Bunny and
cat go together as antagonists, a contrast in which the bunny is viewed as truly
nave and cuddly while the cat is a symbol of sensuality hidden behind a mask
of innocence. So it is not surprising that a Japanese slang term for having sex
is nyan-nyan suru, which means to mew. Donbo uses the sexual context
of these two iconic animals by placing them next to the superstylized child
bodies of the main characters of her own manga Pita Ten. In a parodic move
Donbo casts the animals in the conventional role of little angel and little
demon on the shoulder, a device that is often used to represent moral conicts
in manga. With this she also indicates that the characters in her comic might
look like innocent children but are not necessarily sexually nave anymore.
It transpires from all this that the difference between kawaii-kei and
rorikon does not only lie in the presence or absence of erotic elements but
rather in the way in which they are used. The genre distinction depends much
on whether sex is viewed from a male or female perspective. This gendered
perspective, which is visible for example in the choice of camera angle in
the panels or by the plot structure, depends not only on the creators of the
manga but also very signicantly on the intended readership. The term Lolita,
which is applied to both kawaii-kei and rorikon manga, accordingly has come
to describe two connected but signicantly different concepts. As has been
shown above, the Japanese have adopted the term Lolita over the decades to
their indigenous tradition. Rorikon employs the Lolita image much along the
lines of its original, male-dominated meaning (as dened by Nabokovs novel
and psychoanalytic discourse). Yet the term has also been fused with moe, a
concept of aesthetic sensibility that has long been part of the Japanese cul-
tural tradition. This has allowed for a positive female perspective on the Lolita
image and has sparked off a new genre of girls manga and a whole subcul-
ture.
As manga are now translated and published all over the world, this rein-
vented female reading of the term Lolita is also spreading worldwide. The sit-
uation in Germany can be taken as an example. Over the last ve years the
number of young girls publicly calling themselves Lolitas and dressing like
their Japanese pop music and manga idols has risen from zero to an estimated
15,000.* Against a background of economic difculty and social tension at
the beginning of the 21st century, Germany has seen a massive rise in the phe-
*This steep rise is evident from a recent count on Animexx e.V., Germanys biggest internet forum for
manga fans.
nomenon, which has been described in Japan as otaku culture. Along with
this escapist movement, the connected interest in the Japanese Lolita subcul-
ture and kawaii-kei manga has become an important feature of German youth
culture and continues to grow. Kawaii-kei and the self-condent Lolita sub-
culture seem to hold an irresistible charm especially for female teenagers, a
charm of bright and colorful childhood nostalgia and timeless security that
is used as a defense against the vague imagination of bleak prospects, which
has always haunted teenagers. It remains to be seen whether this new, redened
Lolita movement will continue to grow more and more popular over the next
decade or whether it will turn out to be a short-lived fashion. Much depends
probably on the self-perception of young women. It is safe, however, to say
that it is at the moment a colorful, subversive and exciting cultural phenom-
enon that is no longer restricted to fringe circles in Japan but spreading all
over the world.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Brownstein, Michael C. Jogaku Zasshi and the Founding of Bungakukai. Monumenta Nip-
ponica 35:3 (Autumn 1980): 31936.
CLAMP. Chobits, Vol. 5. Cologne: Egmont Manga & Anime, 2006.
Gomarasca, Alessandro. Sous le Signe du Kawaii. Poupes, Robots La Culture Pop Japon-
ais. Paris: ditions Autrement, 2002.
Hayakawa, Tomoko. Perfect Girl Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge. Ongoing series, 16 vol-
umes published so far. Hamburg: Tokyopop, since 2004.
Kaoru, Shoji. Sweetness Counts for Women in Search of Geeks. The Japan Times 13 Decem-
ber 2005. http://search.japantimes.co.jp/member/member.html?ek20051213ks.htm (1
October 2007).
Kinsella, Sharon. Dessins risques: Les otaku et le manga amateur. Poupes, Robots La
Culture Pop Japonais, edited by Alessandro Gomarasca. Paris: ditions Autrement, 2002.
Mihara, Mitsukazu. Chokoleeto. Tokyo: Index Communications, 2005.
Mihara, Mitsukazu, and Novala Takemoto. Tarot: The Lolita Pass or Pass for Lolita
Grand Glass. KERA 41 (February 2002). Tokyo: Nouvelle Goo, 2002.
Nabokov, Vladimir. Lolita. Paris: Olympia, 1955.
von Lichberg, Heinz. Lolita. Die Veruchte Gioconda. Grotesken. Darmstadt: Falken, 1916.
18
Mangascape Germany: Comics
as Intercultural Neutral Ground
Paul M. Malone
Japanese comics, or manga, have become as hugely popular in Germany

over the last decade as they have elsewhere in the world. The context of this
popularity, however, and the manner in which it is being commercially
exploited, are markedly different in Germany from the circumstances in North
America or much of Western Europe, and not merely because the manga boom
occurred in Germany somewhat later than in the other western nations.
The German comics scene has historically been relatively small. Tim
Pilcher and Brad Brooks Essential Guide to World Comics, for example, devotes
entire chapters, each over 30 pages, to the comics production of the United
States, Great Britain, Japan and France respectively; while Germany, in a
chapter entitled Continental Comics, occupies a mere two pages (three,
including German-speaking Switzerland; 18991). This accurately reects
Germanys status as a net importer of comics culture, to the extent that as of
2006, in Bernd Dolle-Weinkauff s reckoning, less than 10% of the contem-
porary comic production [in Germany] is of German origin (Attractions
1). Despite pioneering work in the German territories in the 1800s, such as
Wilhelm Buschs famous Max and Moritz (1865), the crucial events that
marked the comic in its development [in other countries] the adventure
comic, the comic book, etc., occurred precisely during [the years of Nazi rule
under Hitler], and graphic storytelling in Germany therefore remained stuck
in the nineteenth century (Gasser 24).* Curiously, while the Nazis exploited
almost every mass medium available for propaganda purposes, particularly in
*All translations from the German are my own; Japanese names are given in Western fashion, with the
family name last.
223
order to indoctrinate Germanys youth, they showed no interest in produc-

ing or disseminating anything like comic books (Fix 165).
These widespread cultural prejudices had little to do with National
Socialist ideology. Even after the Second World War, the inux of American
superhero and crime comics in the hands of occupying soldiers only hard-
ened the conviction of many German parents and authorities that the victors
possessed a far more impoverished and decadent culture than the vanquished
(Springman 414): comics were not only resented as a cultural imposition, but
also reviled as Schmutz und Schund (smut and trash) that would reduce chil-
dren to violent, pathological illiterates. As West Germany became more
autonomous politically, these criticisms, leveled not just against comics but
oftentimes against popular culture in general, ultimately led to a law against
disseminating publications that endanger youth (Gesetz ber die Verbreitung
jugendgefhrdender Schriften) in 1953 (Gasser 25). Even more draconian laws
were passed in East Germany soon afterward (Knigge, Comics 222).
During the 1950s in the west, essentially conservative artists such as the
popular adventure artist Hansrudi Wscher, with his blond, lantern-jawed
hero, Sigurd, and the Disney-inspired entrepreneur Rolf Kauka, with his funny
animal comic Fix und Foxi, managed largely to escape censure and censor-
ship (Dolle-Weinkauff, Comics 11725; 15457). Other cartoonists, such as
Roland Kohlsaat and Manfred Schmidt, published their work in glossy mag-
azines such as Stern (Kohlsaats Jimmy das Gummipferd, or Jimmy the Rubber
Horse, appeared in Sternchen, the childrens supplement, from 1953 to 1977)
and Quick (where Schmidts Sherlock Holmes satire, Nick Knatterton, reigned
from 1950 to 1961) rather than in separate comics, thus evading the youth
endangerment law (Knigge, Comics 21920). These varied and fragmented
success stories ultimately failed to contribute to a united and viable West Ger-
man comics culture.
In the 1960s, however, the rise of a youth-oriented popular countercul-
ture in reaction to the conservatism of the previous decade gradually raised
the prole of comics among an audience not primarily of children, but rather
of young male adults with rebellious tastes. The publishers catering to this
interest were largely originally foreign rms, directed from abroad, selling
imported wares: Egmont Ehapa Verlag (founded in Denmark in 1878; estab-
lished in West Germany in 1951) had long been a licensee of the Walt Dis-
ney characters, and in 1968 it acquired Goscinny and Uderzos Astrix, which
became hugely popular in German translation (Dolle-Weinkauff, Comics
22021); while Carlsen Verlag (also founded as a Danish rm, in 1899) set
up a West German branch in 1953 and moved from childrens books into
comics in 1967, when it licensed Hergs Tintin (in German, Tim und Struppi,
which also became a long-term success; Knigge, Alles 53). Donald Duck and
18. Mangascape Germany (Malone) 225
Astrix in particular became popular reading for members of the countercul-

ture, along with the underground comix of Robert Crumb and his compa-
triots (Fix 168, 183; Dolle-Weinkauff, Comics 286; Gasser 24, 27).
By the early 1980s, these movements had nally created a comics con-
sumer culture strong enough that indigenous comics artists began to make
names for themselves; arguably the most successful, in commercial terms,
were humorous artists such as Brsel (the nom de plume of one Rtger Feld-
mann), with his beer-swilling slacker character, Werner (1981); Ralf Knig,
whose provocative queer themes found a surprisingly large audience in works
like Schwulcomix 3 (Gay Comix 3; 1985); and Walter Moers, who veered from
charming comics for children to edgier fare such as Das kleine Arschloch (The
Little Asshole; 1990). In contrast to these artists popularity, there was a rela-
tive dearth of serious adventure or action comics from German artists (Knigge,
Comics 30910).
By coincidence, the early 1980s also saw the rst appearance of Japanese-
style manga comics in Germany, when Keiji Nakazawas autobiographical
Hadashi no Gen (Barefoot Gen) was published as an anti-war treatise by
Rowohlt Verlag in 1982 under the title Barfu durch Hiroshima. However, its
publication by a rm not generally associated with comics, and under an
imprint (rororo aktuell ) reserved for political texts by such authors as Che Gue-
vara, Bertrand Russell and Mao Zedong (Dolle-Weinkauff, Attractions 1),
meant that Nakazawas work went unnoticed by comics readers, while regu-
lar rororo readers were likely to be put off by the combination of cute pic-
tures and a truly frightening but moving story ( Jngst, Japanese Comics
87). At the end of the decade, Shtar Ishinomoris economic treatise in
manga form, Nihon Keizai Nymon, translated into English as Japan, Inc.,
appeared in German translation as Japan GmbH in 1989, published by the
business-oriented Rentrop Verlag and, therefore, also overlooked by the comics
market (87). Like almost all early Western translations of manga, both Bar-
fu durch Hiroshima and Japan GmbH were ipped: the pages, and hence
the pictures, were reversed in printing to accommodate reading from left to
right in Western fashion, rather than right to left as is normal in most Japa-
nese books, including manga.
The rst German comics publisher to try its hand at manga was Carlsen,
who began publishing Katsuhiro ytomos science-ction epic Akira in 1991
in an edition that was not only ipped, but colorized to conform to Western
comics practice. In fact, the pictures were taken from the United States trans-
lation published by Marvel Comics, though the text was translated directly
from the Japanese. Akira remained a small but steady seller for a decade, but
without reaching an audience outside the established comics community (89).
After several more such false starts, the real German manga wave nally
began in 19971998, thanks to two series: the boys action comedy (or shnen
manga) Dragon Ball, by Akira Toriyama, and Naoko Takeuchis girls romance
fantasy (or shjo manga), Sailor Moon. Both manga were tied to anime TV
series and collateral merchandising in a manner that broadened their appeal,
and both were printed in black and white, like the Japanese originals. But
while Sailor Moon (published by Feest Verlag, later absorbed by Ehapa) was
ipped and translated from previously published English or French editions,
Carlsens edition of Dragon Ball was not only translated directly from the
Japanese, but also printed unipped, so that the reader had to get used to
reading right-to-left. As in other countries, this quickly established itself as
the gold standard for authentic translations of Japanese manga, and ipping
became an unacceptable and counterproductive practice (91). Ironically,
Dragon Ball had rst been offered to Ehapa, but its reluctance to produce an
unipped edition had offended the Japanese rights holder, Shueisha who
took their property to Carlsen instead and refused to do business with Ehapa
for another six years (Rosenbach 78).
The success of these two manga started a boom in interest, which quickly
threw into starker relief the troubles that were now plaguing the comics indus-
try in the newly reunied Germany. After a strong start and rising cultural
acceptance of comics at the beginning of the 1990s, the major publishers had
expanded too quickly and saturated the market (Gasser 28; Knigge, Alles
6970). By 2001, as the news magazine Der Spiegel reported, poor sales had
forced the cancellation of both Superman and Fix und Foxi by their German
publishers, while Mickey Mouse and Asterix were similarly failing to meet sales
expectations. Already in 2000, however, sales of manga had surpassed those
of western comics, in what Joachim Kaps, at the time Carlsens editor in chief,
described as a dramatic upheaval (ein dramatischer Umbruch; Rosenbach
78).
With the handwriting on the wall, the established comics publishers
began aggressively cornering the manga market, entering into partnerships
with Japanese publishers and acquiring well-known titles with great speed.
Carlsen snapped up such series as Astro Boy, Battle Angel Alita, Dr. Slump,
Dragon Ball, Fruits Basket, Gravitation, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, One
Piece, Tenchi Muyo and Yu-Gi-Oh! Ehapa, under its new imprint, Egmont
Manga & Anime (or EMA), licensed Card Captor Sakura, Cowboy Bebop,
Fushigi Yugi, Ghost in the Shell, Great Teacher Onizuka, Gundam, Inu Yasha,
Love Hina, Maison Ikkoku, Oh! My Goddess, Pokmon and Ranma 1 2, among
others. A relative newcomer also joined the fray: Panini Verlag (an Italian com-
pany founded in 1954) had put down roots in Germany only in 1974; it was
mainly known as a publisher of sports stickers until the mid1990s, when it
was briey owned by the American Marvel Comics and became their Euro-
pean licensee. Now Italian-owned again, Panini publishes both Marvel and
DC Comics in Germany, as well as The Simpsons; its Planet Manga division
hurried to acquire titles like Berserk, Beyblade, Burst Angel, Fist of the North
Star, Full Metal Panic, Hellsing, King of Bandit Jing, Lone Wolf & Cub, Nades-
ico, Paradise Kiss, Real Bout Highschool, Silent Mbius and Tenjo Tenge. All
three rms also publish Korean manhwa, which share a similar aesthetic but
are printed and read left-to-right, like western comics.
The manner in which the major German comics publishers have colo-
nized the manga market is in marked contrast to the North American exam-
ple, where smaller niche publishers such as Viz Communications were founded
to serve the growing manga readership (Vollbrecht 458), generally catching
the mainstream comics publishers napping and leaving them to play catch-
up with mixed success.
To further build their readership, both Carlsen and Egmont (though not
Panini) publish monthly magazines with serialized manga chapters to intro-
duce new series and artists to readers, similar to the practice of Japanese pub-
lishers ( Jngst, Japanese Comics 99). These chapters, if they prove popular,
are then usually collected into later paperback publications. Carlsen founded
the shnen magazine Banzai! in 2001; Ehapa retaliated with its own Manga
Power the following year. A shjo counterpart to Banzai!, Carlsens Daisuki
began appearing in 2003, the same year that Ehapa brought out Manga
Twister, which eventually displaced its stablemate, Manga Power. By 2005, a
licensing disagreement with Shueisha forced Carlsen to cease publication of
Banzai!, but Daisuki survives to the present.
The landscape was shaken up somewhat in 2004 with the arrival of Toky-
opop Deutschland. With experience and an almost exclusive focus on manga
inherited from its American parent (founded in 1999), and under the leader-
ship of former Carlsen head Joachim Kaps, the German Tokyopop quickly
overtook the relatively passive Panini to compete directly with Carlsen and
EMA for market share. Though many of the properties published in Amer-
ica by Tokyopop U.S. were already in other hands in Germany, the German
branch lost no time in bringing out popular series such as Beck, Bleach, Comic
Party, Cromartie High School, DearS, Death Note, Ichigo 100%, Peace Maker
Kurogane, School Rumble and Sgt. Frog. However, Tokyopop was also pre-
pared to compete with Carlsen and EMA on another front.
For the importation of manga as a subculture also entailed the importa-
tion of a strongly do-it-yourself-oriented sense of fandom, in which every con-
sumer of manga is potentially also a producer. Brian Ruh has examined the
importance of fan-to-fan pedagogy in the maintenance of cultural compe-
tence among manga fans in America, whose identication with characters in
Japanese comics or animation ... prompts them to want to create their own
stories using similar methods (Ruh 378). In Japan, this desire is the basis of
the huge djinshi or amateur comic/fanzine scene, a major focus of fan activ-
ity and a potential springboard for amateur manga artists into the profes-
sional publishing world (38082). A large number of how-to books aimed
at this audience of aspiring artists have been published in Japan, and both
translations of these manuals and American knock-off versions have become
popular in the English-speaking world (38386). Most of these instructional
books, regardless of their origin, have also been translated and published for
markets in Europe, including Germany, where a 2003 survey carried out by
the fan magazine MangasZene found that two-thirds of manga fans also drew
their own comics (Holzer et al. 6).
In keeping with this mentality, Carlsen, Ehapa and Tokyopop have not
only licensed real Asian manga and manhwa, but have also cultivated home-
grown artists via competitions that can lead to publication in anthologies,
magazines, or in paperback form. As a result, in Heike Jngsts words:
Becoming a mangaka, a manga artist, has become a job todays German chil-
dren dream of (Japanese Comics 99). Carlsen, for example, publishes a
yearly anthology entitled Manga-Talente (Manga Talents) since 2002; EMA,
in conjunction with Germanys largest annual anime and manga convention,
Connichi, has been producing the anthology Shinkan Special every year since
2003; and Tokyopops Manga Fieber (Manga Fever) is now in its third vol-
ume since 2005. These contests are similar to the activities of U.S. publish-
ers (note in particular Tokyopop U.S., with its contest-based anthology, Rising
Stars of Manga, described in Ruh 38789), but a distinct contrast to Ger-
manys neighbor France, for example, where the manga boom is just as much
in evidence, there are probably more manga publishers mainstream and
niche combined and the same instructional manuals are available; yet there
has been little or no attempt to promote French beginners as prospective man-
gaka.
There were precedents for young Germans hoping to break into manga
publishing. In 2001, a Hamburg-born Japanologist had published a two-vol-
ume manga, Bloody Circus, with Carlsen. Jrgen Seebeck (born 1961) had been
working as a translator with his wife, Junko Iwamoto-Seebeck, on Carlsens
editions of Akira and Dragon Ball, and had taken up drawing himself, pub-
lishing in several magazines until 1997, when he began the series of short sto-
ries that became Bloody Circus. Before their print publication, Seebecks
vignettes had actually appeared in Japan as E-manga thanks to the Japa-
nese publisher Kodansha (Holzer et al. 7); despite this pedigree and a good
deal of Japanese visual content, however, Bloody Circus full-color artwork and
generally European artistic style were not entirely accepted as authentic
by German manga fans ( Jngst, Manga 251 52).
Carlsen had better luck, at least at rst, with Robert Labs (born 1982),
a talented young artist who had won a competition for comics based on the
Tomb Raider video games, published short djinshi, and completed an appren-
ticeship at rival Ehapa. Labs proposal to Carlsen for his own manga, Dragic
Master (the rst word combines dragon and magic, with a soft g), was
accepted, and the rst volume appeared in 2001 (Holzer et al. 7). Far closer
to the typical shnen fantasy action style in both plot and appearance than
Seebecks work, Dragic Master showcased both Labs strengths and weak-
nesses. He is capable of producing panels and even whole pages of great beauty
and skillful composition; given the short production schedule, however, such
work often alternates with rushed and sloppy sections, particularly toward the
end of the book ( Jordan and Thau). Before a second volume of Dragic Mas-
ter could be published, Labs began another series, the more science-ction-
oriented Crewman 3, in installments in Banzai! Crewman 3 showed the same
weaknesses as its precursor, though its visual style at its best was reminiscent
of Labs inuences, Akira Toriyama and Eiichiro Oda (creator of One Piece).
Crewman 3 was collected in two paperback volumes (2003 and 2004), but
its hurried conclusion bespoke premature cancellation; only afterward was
Labs able to produce a second volume of Dragic Master (2005), which like-
wise wrapped up its storyline far too abruptly. Despite these disappointments,
Labs had become a minor celebrity as a star of the German manga scene
(Holzer et al. 7). Nonetheless, he had also found the manga style too restric-
tive and the readership too hostile to any deviation from expectations (Kgel);
he gave up his Japanese inuences, and completed his next work for Carlsen,
The Black Beach: Ein Surfermrchen (A Surfers Fairy Tale; 2005) in a visual
style more reminiscent of American cartoons.
EMAs rst attempt to publish a German manga failed even more sig-
nally: Naglayas Herz (Naglayas Heart; 2002) was written by Stefan Voss and
drawn by Sascha Nils Marx (born 1965), who was already working as a pro-
fessional advertising illustrator (Holzer et al. 8). Voss script is a genial and
often witty pastiche of shnen-style fantasy quest adventures, with a close
resemblance to Rumiko Takahashis Inu Yasha. Marxs clumsy artwork, how-
ever, defeats the script at every turn, puncturing sight gags and reducing most
of the action scenes to incoherence. Despite a cliff-hanger ending, there was
no continuation possibly due to Marxs trouble meeting deadlines until
2005, when a second volume appeared from the much smaller Christian Solar
Verlag ( Jngst, Manga 259). In the case of both Labs and Marx, the over-
whelming workload of producing many pages of artwork on a short sched-
ule, and without the uncredited assistants who aid professional mangaka in
Japan (Ruh 384), was clearly an important factor in the ultimate failure of
their projects.
As Heike Jngst has pointed out, most of the German mangaka who fol-
lowed in the footsteps of Labs and Marx have been young women (Manga
251), either near the end of their high school studies or at the beginning of
their postsecondary education; moreover, almost all of the artists in this group
have won the chance to be published in the various publisher-sponsored com-
petitions. The preponderance of female artists is itself a sign of the most
notable change wrought by the arrival of manga in the comics market in most
western countries: nally, after decades of comics produced primarily for a
male audience, manga included a range of themes and genres that appealed
to girls and young women as well, thus virtually doubling potential reader-
ship (Dolle-Weinkauff, Attractions 45; Jngst, Manga 258; Hickley), but
also requiring female artists as role models, thus justifying the publishers
training them which is in fact far more expensive than licensing genuine
manga (Bckem 11).
Carlsen, for instance, discovered Judith Park (born 1984), publishing
her tale of near-incest, premature death and cloning, Dystopia: Love at Last
Sight (2004), and Y Square (2005), a comic tale about a student who has no
luck with women, and the gay admirer who helps him land a dream girl;
Nina Werner (born 1986), author of Jibun-Jishin (a tale of adolescent guilt
and cross-dressing whose title might be rendered as I Myself; 2006); and
Christina Plaka (born 1983), creator of the story of a struggling Japanese
grunge band named Prussian Blue (2004).
EMA published Orcus Star (2005), a gender-bending variation on the
Orpheus myth by Gina Wetzel (born 1985); Catwalk (2006), the story of an
albino fashion model, by Alexandra Vlker (born 1986); the supernatural
comedy Freaky Angel (2006), by Lenka Buschov (born 1987); and Mon-Star
Attack (2006), an absurd alien invasion parody by DuO (joint pseudonym
for a pair of young women who call themselves Asu and Reami, born in 1985
and 1986).
When Joachim Kaps left Carlsen for Tokyopop, Christina Plaka followed
him, taking Prussian Blue with her under the new title Yonen Buzz (2005);
shortly afterward, the existence of a Neo-Nazi musical group in the United
States named Prussian Blue also impelled Plaka to change her bands name
to the less euphonious Plastic Chew ( Jngst, Manga 257). Plaka was joined
by newcomers Detta Zimmermann (born 1987), creator of the magical fan-
tasy Iscel (2006), and Anike Hage (born 1987), whose Gothic Sports (2006)
tells the story of a young outsiders attempt to form an unauthorized high-
school soccer team. The list of German mangaka and their publications con-
tinues to grow at all three publishers (as well as at several smaller presses),
though women continue to far outnumber men (Dolle-Weinkauff, Attrac-
tions 5; Jngst, Manga 257).
The contest-bred mangaka of this group, however, like Labs, Marx and
Seebeck before them, continue to be beholden to a thoroughly institutional-
ized but deeply problematic ideal of authenticity. The very term mangaka,
which is so frequently used to refer to these German artists by their publish-
ers, the wider press and scholars alike, is a token of this ideal: as Brian Ruh
says of the American scene, the use of the Japanese language is intentional
it distinguishes manga creation as separate from the other types of comic art
and serves as a marker of authenticity (383).
German manga are in fact permeated with such markers of authentic-
ity; all of these artists works conform to at least some of the visual and
generic tropes of established manga styles, particularly those of shjo manga.
For example, much use is made of visual elements such as a single giant sweat-
drop on characters heads, signaling anxiety; the X-shaped throbbing fore-
head vein, representing anger; or simplication and distortion of facial features
(sometimes of the entire body) to show extreme emotion of various kinds (see
Jngst, Manga 257). Likewise, stories tend to be set in Japan, or in a non-
specic locale that could be Japan, though exceptions include Parks Y Square,
which takes place in Korea; Zimmermanns Iscel, set in a kind of alternate
medieval Europe; and Hages Gothic Sports, with an unspecied but contem-
porary European setting. Even when the location is unclear, there is a ten-
dency for characters to be given Japanese (or pseudoJapanese) names, as is
the case in Wetzels Orcus Star and Buschovs Freaky Angel, whose protago-
nists are named Maiko and Hikari, respectively; again, there are exceptions,
including again Zimmermann and Hages works, but also Vlkers Catwalk,
where either Western or completely invented names are the rule.
One element most typical of shjo manga that also characterizes most of
these German manga is the direct address from author to reader in sidebars
within the story, where the artists give background information about the
creation of the book, about particular scenes or characters, or about them-
selves. As Jngst points out,
They also use these boxes for the typical humble excuse that is so popular with
Japanese female mangaka: They tell the readers how horrifyingly bad the manga
is and how grateful they are that the readers have nevertheless chosen to buy
and read it. Virtually all female German mangaka do this [Manga 253].
Here, however, Jngst overstates her case; Zimmermann and Hage, for exam-
ple, do not include such asides, while Robert Labs regularly does.
Of course, the most obvious sign of this false authenticity remains the
reversed reading direction, which is now so enshrined that even Judith Park,
who is of South Korean background, draws ipped Japanese-style manga,
rather than in the left-to-right manhwa style ( Jngst, Manga 253). This
reversal is forcibly drawn to the attention of anyone who foolishly opens a

manga like a western book; all three major publishers provide reminders like
the following in both translated and original German manga:
TOKYOPOP: Stop! This is the end of the book! ... To be able to follow the story
in a manner thats undistorted and true to the original [sic], youll have to do
like the Japanese do and read from right to left....
CARLSEN: Halt! This isnt the rst page! This is a comic in Japanese style, and
since in Japan they read from back to front and from right to left, youll have
to open this book from the other side....
EMAs warning actually reminds you in both Japanese and German:

Sutoppu! Koko wa kono manga no owari dayo. Hantaigawa kara yomihajimete
ne! Dewa omatase shimashita! Catwalk no hajimari hajimari!
Manga Chiimu
Stop! This is the end of the manga. Please begin at the other end! And thats
enough introduction, now its time to start Catwalk!
Your Manga Team
As Jngst has pointed out, this last strategy is doubly inauthentic: if you can
read Japanese, Romanized or not, you likely do not need to be told where to
open your manga (Japanese Comics 92). However, this also underscores the
manner in which German-language manga imitate not original Japanese mod-
els, but rather those models as already translated; thus becoming what Jngst
elsewhere calls simulacra or pseudo-translations (Manga 258).
The idea of producing an original work that must pretend to be a trans-
lation encapsulates the tension between conforming to a supposedly exotic
aesthetic and simultaneously being promoted as local talent for a relatively
small market. The negotiation between these opposing poles poses challenges
for some artists as it certainly did for Robert Labs, for example.
And yet this ideal of authenticity also creates a kind of virtual com-
munity that we might call, with apologies to Arjun Appadurai, the mangas-
cape, a space where cultural material may be seen to be moving across
national boundaries (Appadurai 33; see also Wong 26; Ruh 377). In the case
of the German mangascape, the priority given to a supercial authenticity in
the manga form de-emphasizes the actual ethnicity of the mangaka, and thus
creates an exotic but neutral meeting place for artists of differing backgrounds
to contribute to a eld that has become multicultural beyond the simple
opposition of Germany and Japan.
For the German publishers promotion of home-grown artists, expen-
sive as it is, is easily explained as a vital element in their struggle for economic
survival, by reaching and maintaining a previously practically untapped female
audience. The residual effect, however, which has gone almost unnoticed, has
been the creation of a multiethnic and multicultural in-group that no longer

functions merely as an audience, but that feels it has a participatory stake in
an aspect of German culture, however marginal and exotic. Even a cursory
glance at the names of entrants who have achieved publication in the various
contest anthologies provides a fascinating cross-section of the modern Ger-
man population: names such as Simone Xie (Basel), Nhung Vu (Munich),
Tian Yang (Braunschweig), Nam Nguyen (Pforzheim), Ying Zhou Cheng
(Bad Neuheim), Luisa Velontrova (Luckenwalde), Reyhan Yildirim (Brhl)
and Eri Maruyama (Erkrath), to list only a few. Such nonGerman names
may not belong to a majority of the contestants, but they are heavily repre-
sented among the winners and honorable mentions; whether they are citizens
or only residents of Germany, in this context, is irrelevant. Judith Park her-
self, arguably one of the most successful of these artists, has been described
as a South Korean, but born in Duisburg and living in Dsseldorf (Holzer
et al. 11) an apparently absurd statement to anyone unaware of Germanys
pre2000 nationality laws, under which nationality was based on descent and
not birthplace.
Allegiance to the conventions of an already imported, migrant medium
thus unites these disparate artists and allows them equal and active partici-
pation in German-language culture without regard to their ethnicity, in a
manner very different from the manga scenes in either the Anglophone coun-
tries or in France. One observer has proclaimed manga in Germany the
chance for a healthy comics scene where there is nally something on offer
for younger people (Riesenaugen); but it appears that there may well be
far more on offer, and to more people, than has previously been acknowl-
edged.
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INTERDISCIPLINARY
The following chapters have their origins in a set of interconnected workshops
held at the Comics as Nexus of Cultures conference, which took place in
Lambrecht, Germany, in May 2007. The workshops tied in with the overall
topic of the conference by negotiating the special role of comics as being situ-
ated and thus mediating between different age groups, between different media
cultures, between high art and entertainment, between different regions of the
world, and between different academic disciplines. In contrast to the mostly
analytical papers held at the conference, the workshops took a more practical
approach directed at concrete planning. We felt that the presence of many
comics experts, of academics from various fields, and of educators of different
professions presented a great opportunity to grapple with some urgent topics
surrounding the field of comics studies.
Four separate but interconnected workshops were held. The participants of
the first workshop engaged in a discussion on the possibility, and maybe neces-
sity, of developing a refined toolbox of methods and approaches for the analy-
sis of comics, a toolbox that could be equipped with instruments from various
academic disciplines (see Haberkorn and Kukkonens report). While this work-
shop thus developed something like a methodological outline for a course in
comics studies, a second group concentrated on how comics can be used as
teaching tools (in schools and universities) and how comics literacy could be
taught both in schools and in already existing academic programs. Two separate
groups then took this as a basis to develop units on comics for the widely taught
introductory courses in Literary Studies and Film Studies (see the reports by
Berninger and Rauscher). In this context, we were especially grateful to also
have a linguist among us who could speak at greater length of her experiences in
using comics and cartoons in an introductory course on English linguistics. We
think that Christina Sanchezs practically oriented paper on this topic effectively
complements the session plans that were the result of the workshops.
Naturally, the organizers of the conference and the authors of the reports are
highly indebted to all the participants of the workshops for their lively, creative,
and also critical input. Special thanks go to Ulrike Behlau for her invaluable
note-taking during the proceedings.
19
Workshop I: Toward a Toolbox
of Comics Studies
Karin Kukkonen and Gideon Haberkorn
This is an attempt to capture what was a very lively and insightful work-
shop on the possibilities and pitfalls of establishing a theoretical framework
for comics studies. The participants were Jochen Ecke, Mario Gomes, Dan
Hassler-Forest, Josh Lambert, Ben Little, Paul M. Malone, Suchitra Mathur,
Anja Mller-Wood, Jan Peuckert, Mareike Spth, Dirk Vanderbeke and Dinah
Zank. We thank them for their contributions to the workshop, and thus, to
this essay. Special thanks to Jochen Ecke, Mario Gomes and Mareike Spth.
1. PROBLEMS
1.1 The Paradigm of the Hammer

If the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem
will begin to look like a nail.
Abraham Maslow
Maslows insight into human psychology neatly sums up the dilemma
of developing a theoretical approach to comics. As scholars from many dif-
ferent academic elds turn to comics, they bring the tools of their trade with
them. As every set of tools brings an inbuilt bias with it and scholars from
different elds view comics with their own specic set of preconceptions, the
interdisciplinary appeal of comics can become a double-edged sword.
If art historians look only at the images, lm scholars consider only the
sequences and literary critics talk about nothing but words, each group looses
two-thirds of the comics meaning potential. This leads to the common mis-
237
238 COMICS AS A NEXUS OF CULTURESINTERDISCIPLINARY
understanding that comics are nothing but a bastard art form: [A]n easy-
going intermixture of drawing and text forms the staple of young readers
today, the comic book, where one art continually feeds on the other, so that
the deciencies in each art by itself are less noticeable, as Northrop Frye puts
it (186). Frye, like many others, approaches comics with the separation of
images and words rmly in mind. Lessings Laokoon (1766) laid the ground-
work for this understanding. According to Lessing, pictorial art works with
space, and literature is the art of time. However, modern media like lm or
comics work both with images and words, challenging this overly classicist
separation of the arts, and calling for a more collaborative theoretical proj-
ect.
The hammer of simplication is not only wielded by those who concen-
trate on one formal element of the comic, but also by those who reduce the
rich variety in the contents of comics to one aspect. If the only characteris-
tic of comics you analyze is their exalted code (cf. Weidenmann), you will
ultimately start reading realistic, even sober comics from this perspective.
Early comics like Ally Sloper (1884) or The Yellow Kid (1894) show of course
that they have developed from caricatures, yet in the century that has passed
since their publication, comics have come a long way from these roots. You
can approach comics like Tintin or Astrix in terms of caricature, but talking
about Moebius work from this perspective would be inappropriate. You can
analyze comics as diverse as Kingdom Come, Hellblazer or Tarzan in terms of
religion, myth and savior gures (cf. Savramis for Tarzan), but using this
approach on Fables or Strangers in Paradise would be wrong.
All of these approaches are valuable tools of analysis, yet, as soon as they
become hammers driving in screws, they are worthless. Comics are too var-
ied a eld to allow for one thematic approach only, and they are too complex
as a medium to be grasped through one classical eld of media studies either.
1.2 The Catch-All System

While following too narrow an approach is problematic, trying to con-
struct a catch-all system for comics analysis comes with its own difculties.
The most common generalizing approach to comics is semiotics, which allows
us to perceive the individual elements of the comic as signs creating mean-
ing through different channels like image, word and sequence. It also allows
us to connect the comics text to its cultural context, since the meaning of
signs is usually culturally determined.
If used with discretion, as demonstrated in the works of Groensteen or
Eco (Steve Canyon), semiotics are a very valuable approach to comics. How-
ever, as soon as we try to establish a general system of comics semiotics, the
trouble begins: Can we analyze both images and words with a theory based
19. Workshop I (Kukkonen and Haberkorn) 239
on linguistics? Which is the smallest meaning-carrying unit in the images of

a comic? The line or the pixel? Which are the units we can determine in any
comic? In treating these problems, many comics scholars turn their systems
into a mousetrap or a maze. They either reduce their system to a limited num-
ber of basic types, which do not cover a good part of the comics production
and thus defy the idea of a catch-all system, or as it is the case a lot more
often they create a catalogue of categories so extensive that the systems
practical use becomes questionable (cf. Krafft or Khn). The complexity of
the interaction between individual elements, be they image, word or sequence,
is the basis of the system that is comics (Groensteen 28). To truly acknowl-
edge this fact might make the construction of a catch-all theory for comics
seem a daunting, if not impossible, task, inviting criticism from all sides.
However, it may not even be necessary to create such a Swiss army knife of
comic theory.
2. THE TOOL BOX APPROACH
Comics studies travel between the Scylla of reduction and the Charyb-
dis of overcomplexity when it comes to theory. Assembling a collection of
critical tools, a toolbox of comics studies, would be an appropriate solution
to this dilemma. Such a toolbox could hold the wealth of thematic and dis-
ciplinary approaches that scholars from different academic elds choose to
bring to comics. More general theoretical structures like semiotics, narratol-
ogy or rhetorics also have a place in the box. If these approaches and struc-
tures are used as tools in order to solve a specic problem, they yield valuable
results. By holding a variety of approaches, the toolbox emphasizes the neces-
sity of carefully choosing an appropriate tool for a certain task, rather than
always using the same one.
In the course of the workshop, the toolbox was stocked with a wide and
varied array of problem-oriented tools. These tools do not form a universal
key, but rather a ready set of means to solve specic problems. The discus-
sion we started during this workshop is by no means over: The toolbox is
always open for new tools, or for new uses the traditional ones could be put
to.
2.1 Production and Reception

Comics are cultural artifacts and physical entities they are created, pro-
duced, manufactured, and consumed. The theoretical analysis of both the
production and the reception of comics is an important part of comics stud-
ies.
Comics can be mass produced by large media companies, as are the clas-
sical superheroes, or they can be independent productions issued through
small presses or self-publishing (cf. Jeff Smiths Bone or Dave Sims Cerebus
the Aardvark). They can be produced by a lone artist, or by a large team. Thus
the artistic process of creating a comic can be much more complex than that
which leads to the average novel. Since many individuals like writers, pen-
cillers, inkers, letterers, colorists, but also editors are involved, determining
the author of a comic is more difcult, and of questionable merit.
When it comes to the reception of comics, one of the central issues is
how comics can be read, what specic challenges they pose and what specic
opportunities. As this belongs to realm of poetics, we will put it aside for the
moment and come back to it under that heading later.
Another question entirely is how comics are actually read. Here, empir-
ical research might supplement classical reader response criticism, hermeneu-
tics or more idiosyncratic approaches like psychosemiotics (cf. Packard).
Results of qualitative eld work could shed light on the sociological dimen-
sion of comics: Who buys which kind of comics? What kinds of communi-
ties of fanboys and true believers does their reception foster (cf. Pustz)?
How readily available is a specic comic? How are comics circulated? What
is their reputation in society?
Cultural differences also play an important role when it comes to the
reception of comics, be it on the level of reading conventions both Japa-
nese manga and Arabian comics (cf. Douglas and Malti-Douglas) are read
from right to left be it concerning the necessary cultural background knowl-
edge for decoding the comics imagery. Different cultural communities develop
different cultures of comics, different forms and different styles. Social Anthro-
pology, Cultural Studies as well as Art History can provide useful tools for
tackling these problems.
Both the production and the reception of comics are important elds in
which much original research is possible. The toolbox therefore contains
methods for investigating how the artists involved create a comic, how the
publishers produce and distribute it, how customers acquire it, and how they
then consume or read it.
2.2 Form and Content

The divide between form and content has been a virulent problem in
criticism of all forms of art for a very long time. Can form be separated from
content? Does a certain subject matter require a specic form in which to
unfold, or could the content of an epic poem be told just as well in the form
of the Sunday newspaper strip?
Some comics, like Kabuki or Promethea foreground their formal aspects
and, thus, achieve what Shklovsky, called the defamiliarisation effect. They
stress their quality as a work of art over their narrative. There are authors like
Alan Moore or Frank Miller with a very distinct criture, who have developed
a distinctive personal style even though they work in the streamlining envi-
ronment of U.S. superhero comics. Other comics, however, try to render their
style as inconspicuous as possible. They apply a highly conventionalized form
in order to appear transparent as a medium the natural way of telling a
story.
Form can be analyzed through poetics and rhetoric but also with the help
of the linguistic distinction between the paradigmatic and the syntagmatic
(see Benveniste for an elaboration of the terms background in linguistics).
The syntagmatic axis presents the connection of individual elements in
sequence, while the paradigmatic axis presents the range of possible elements
from which the author has to choose when designing the comic. Talking about
reading practices, we could say that the syntagmatic axis represents the lin-
ear sequence of panels and the paradigmatic axis the nonlinear composition
of the entire page. In both cases, the syntagmatic axis stresses the linear, the
conventional, the naturalized; the paradigmatic axis stresses the nonlinear, the
eye-catching, the artistic.
There are comics that are mainly a formalist extravaganza, just as there
are those that only want to tell a story. In the end, form and content are
always interconnected aspects, and their separation is a critical ction. Often,
it is a necessary critical ction because it allows to isolate various aspects of
a work. In reality, however in comics maybe to a greater extent than in any
other medium style is content.
2.3 Poetics and Rhetoric

The classical elds in the study of literature in which form is analyzed
and catalogued are poetics and rhetoric. Both have established a catalogue of
devices used, in literature and oratory respectively, to achieve certain effects
and to express certain contents. A similar catalogue of devices exists, implic-
itly, for comics. The spatial arrangement of elements on a page is signicant,
as is the ow between panels, inside panels, from speech balloon to speech
balloon. The structure and shape of the speech balloons hold meaning. Gut-
ters can vary in width, which can in turn be the same all over the page or
vary between different panels. Text is usually presented in all caps, using font
size, exclamation marks and bold types to indicate loudness, and typeface to
indicate tone of voice and even accent. Panels can be detailed or sparse, small
or large. Placement, size, and richness in detail of panels can inuence the
speed with which pages are read. Thus, large, detailed pictures can effectively
achieve slow motion, while small and sparsely illustrated pictures can convey
fast-paced action. The consistent use of these devices forms conventions that
seem natural and thus create a suspension of disbelief for the duration of
the reading process.
It is here that poetics and rhetoric intersect with the study of reception
and culture. No comic exists, as it were, on an otherwise blank canvas. Rather,
it is embedded in a cultural background, and read in the context of the readers
mental landscape. A comic, like any other work of art, is a collection of ges-
tures, in the sense that a gesture exists where a speck of behavior collides
with a eck of culture (Geertz 6). If the comic gestures toward a (ctional)
world (cf. Culler 157), comics studies must not only look at that world, but
also examine the gestures. The analysis of comics always has to consider both
the what and the how, and structuralist narratology provides a useful termi-
nology for the latter project.
Narratology distinguishes between discourse and story, expression and con-
tent (cf. Chatman), thereby identifying elements of structure and elements of
manifestation (verbal, cinematic, pictorial, etc.) in a narrative. The structural
elements allow us to classify and categorize the story being told. The elements
pertaining to manifestation can be used to describe the comic-specic formal
elements we can compile under heading of a poetics or rhetoric of comics, a
body of knowledge of the general laws that preside over the birth of each
work (Todorov 6). If Ecos description of the novel as a machine for gen-
erating interpretations (Postscript 2) can reasonably be extended to all works
of art, then a toolbox of comics studies needs to contain tools for taking the
machine apart, examining the bits and pieces, and nding out how they help
the machine do what it does.
3. PANDORAS BOXES
Comics make for a wide and varied eld, and in studying it, we are likely
to encounter more questions than answers, and some questions are less likely
to lead to more questions rather than answers, and many answers are likely
to be unsatisfactory. In the case of some questions, no tool seems to t every
hammer is too clumsy and every screwdriver is too delicate. These are the
Pandoras Boxes of comics studies, tempting us with the promise of heated
and productive discussion, yet threatening with the inconclusiveness and the
quicksand of neverending debate. Three of these Pandoras Boxes were brought
on the table during the discussion in the workshop.
Can there be a denition for comics, one that is meaningful and useful? Is
such a denition really necessary? Would it be enough to move toward a
denition? What would count as progress? Right now, what we have is a num-
ber of debates rather than satisfactory answers. It is easy as well as pointless

to get bogged down in such debates, and they should not dominate comics
studies. Perhaps a thorough description of what comics do instead of the
inevitably essentialist debate of what they are can sufce.
Does a pen have to be involved in the creation of a comic? Can it use pho-
tographs, without becoming a photo-novel instead of a graphic novel? What
about comics that take photos and play with them, digitalize them, rework
them? At what point do photos become pictures?
Is the comic a medium, or a discourse? Is it a multimedia event, combin-
ing pictures and text? What is a medium? The usual answer to this question
is: a means for communication. But is a medium dened by the channels of
perception it uses, or rather by the materials and processes involved? Do we
mean cognitive or sensual perception? If a medium is dened by the mental
means of perception, there is a clear difference between the standard novel
and the standard comic, because one uses text, the other pictures and text
which are decoded by different parts of the brain. Yet both are perceived via
our visual senses, so in the context of sensual perception, novel and comic
are one and the same medium. If the medium is fundamentally a technology,
or a product of technology, then again, novel and comic are incarnations of
one and the same medium: They could be described as different discourses
in the medium of print. The medium mediates; it stands in the middle
between a sender and a receiver. The discourse is a mental framework, an arena
of expression, the context in which meaning is produced. Film is a medium,
and radio, and television, and print. If you lm words without movement or
animation, the product will still be a lm. If you print a book of pictures
instead of words, it is no longer a novel. And what about the much-touted
digital convergence? As soon as all media are the product of the same com-
puter, are they then all the same medium?
4. CONCLUSION
Rather than offering a catch-all system for comics studies, a universal key
for reading comics, we have argued for a ready set of means to solve specic prob-
lems, a collection of critical tools, a toolbox of comics studies. By holding a vari-
ety of approaches, the toolbox emphasizes the necessity of carefully choosing
a tool appropriate to the task, rather than always using the same one. While this
may not avoid the problem that every tool carries an inbuilt bias, it draws atten-
tion to that fact, which we hold to be a step forward in the right direction.
The areas for which the toolbox will need to provide effective tools are
wide and varied. Comics are cultural artifacts and physical entities they are
created, produced, manufactured, and consumed. Comics, like all works of

art, are the intersection of form and content. Like all cultural products, they
exist within the web of their culture, incomprehensible if isolated from that
context. They are collections of gestures, complicated assemblages of bits and
pieces which can be disassembled, labeled, and examined carefully. They can
be the source of productive discussions as well as fruitless arguments. Much
of the way toward a satisfactory toolbox still lies largely ahead, and parts of
it are sure to be messy. But who said it should not be so? The snares are not
obstacles on the path; they are the path. They might seem to hold us back,
but they actually provide the means for development.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Benveniste, mile. Problmes de la linguistique gnrale. Paris: Gallimard, 1966.
Chatman, Seymour. Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film. Ithaca: Cor-
nell University Press, 1978.
Culler, Jonathan. Structuralist Poetics: Structuralism, Linguistics and the Study of Literature.
New York: Routledge, 2002 [1975].
Douglas, Allen, and Fedwa Malti-Douglas. Arab Comics Strips. Politics of an Emerging Mass
Culture. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1994.
Eco, Umberto. Lektre von Steve Canyon Apokalytiker und Integrierte: Zur kritischen Kri-
tik der Massenkultur. Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer, 1984, 11759.
_____. Postscript to The Name of the Rose. Orlando: Harcourt Brace, 1984.
Foucault, Michel. The Archaeolog y of Knowledge. London: Routledge, 2002 [1969].
Frye, Northrop. Literature and the Visual Arts. Myth and Metaphor: Selected Essays
1974 1988. Charlottesville and London: University Press of Virginia, 1991, 18395.
Geertz, Clifford. Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture. The Inter-
pretation of Cultures. 1973. London: Fontana, 1993, 330.
Groensteen, Thierry. Systme de la bande dessine. Paris: Presses Univ. de France, 1999.
Khn, Stephan. Traditionen visuellen Erzhlens in Japan. Eine paradigmatische Untersuchung
der Entwicklungslinien vom Faltschirmbild zum narrativen Manga. Kln: Harraossowitz,
2005.
Krafft, Ulrich. Comics lesen: Untersuchungen zur Textualitt von Comics. Stuttgart: Klett-
Cotta, 1978.
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim. Laokoon oder ber die Grenzen der Malerei und Poesie. Stuttgart:
Reclam, 2003 [1766].
McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extension of Man. Massachusetts: MIT Press,
2002 [1964].
Packard, Stephan. Anatomie des Comics: Psychosemiotische Medienanalyse. Gttingen: Wall-
stein, 2006.
Puszt, Matthew. Comic Book Culture: Fanboys and True Believers. Jackson: University Press
of Mississippi, 1999.
Savramis, Demosthenes. Der moderne Mensch zwischen Tarzan und Superman. Comics
und Religion: Eine interdisziplinre Diskussion, edited by Jutta Wermke. Mnchen: Fink,
1976, 11020.
Shklovsky, Viktor. Kunst als Verfahren Russischer Formalismus. Texte zur allgemeinen Lit-
eraturtheorie und zur Theorie der Prosa, edited by Jurij Striedter. Mnchen, 1971 [1932].
Todorov, Tzvetan. Introduction to Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1981
[1968].
Weidenmann, Bernd. Der exaltierte Code der Comics. Comics zwischen Lese- und Bildkul-
tur, edited by Bodo Franzmann. Mnchen: Prol, 1991, 6065.
20
Workshop II: Comics in School
Mark Berninger
The role of comics in education is already considerable, but it is largely

unacknowledged. The potential of comics as an educational medium is vast
but still only partially realized. It is still a rare exception that comics are
specically dealt with in school or academia and are thus addressed on the
same level as literature, theater, art, or lm.* This leaves room for an analy-
sis of the reasons for this situation but it also creates the wish to acknowledge
the existing role of comics in education, to stress the possibilities inherent in
the use of comics in school teaching and academic courses, and to promote
comics as a topic of analysis, again both in schools and academia. The fol-
lowing essay attempts to tackle all these objectives as they all formed part of
the workshop from which it originates. It must necessarily remain a sketch
or rather a rst attempt at covering so extensive a eld. We hope that the dis-
cussions in the workshop as ltered through this essay might spark off fur-
ther discussions elsewhere that will result in new and rened descriptions,
concepts, and practical planning.
THE ROLE OF COMICS IN EDUCATION
The reasons for the role comics play in education shall be outlined here
with a few brief strokes. Teachers tend to look at comics with a suspicion that
is still rooted in debates waged in the middle of the 20th century when comics,
especially in America, were considered to be potentially dangerous for young
*In recent years the number of academic courses including work on comics has risen and a number of
art colleges in America and Japan now offer courses in comics design (see the NACAE homepage for
details). However, comics studies and comics art classes remain a severely neglected field in the academic
world, which so amply caters for those interested in literature, drama, film, etc.
245
people in several ways.* They were accused of both reducing literacy by replac-
ing proper reading, and of morally endangering children and teenagers
through the themes of violence, sex, and crime, which they address. The
specic pictorial and narrative style that comics use was also considered offen-
sive as it was seen as aggressive, reductive, and ultimately decient in artistic
quality. Finally, the argument that comics encourage escapism was, and still
often is, brought forward.
This negative reaction cannot surprise as it resembles the attacks all newly
emerging media, genres, or artistic styles have to face. It is, however, aston-
ishing how long-lived prejudices against comics have proved to be. This can
partly be explained with the fact that, unlike other new media, comics have
remained primarily a youth (sub)culture. While, for more than 100 years now,
almost every child and teenager has read comics, people have tended to grow
out of comics and look at them with disdain (or sometimes with a certain
nostalgia) later in life.
On the other hand, this rootedness in childrens and youth culture also
makes comics especially attractive for teachers. Comics simply form an excel-
lent tool to reach and interest children and teenagers. This has led to a fairly
extensive use of pictorial narratives in school. Comics are usually employed
not for their own sake, though, but simply as stepping stones toward differ-
ent goals, for example, when a story told in pictures is used to entice pupils
to write a proper story (in words), an exercise that probably everyone has
experienced in school. Like lms, comics combine the visual with the narra-
tive and have thus been employed in school in a way that makes use of their
visual appeal to introduce narrative and welcomes them as an attractive vehi-
cle to transport content. While this positively stresses the mediating quali-
*The notorious paragon of the 1950s anticomics movement was of course Fredric Wertham, whose 1954
book, The Seduction of the Innocent, virtually silenced all the positive approaches toward comics in
the classroom, which had been slowly spreading in the 1940s. See Yang for details.
Individual exceptions naturally prove the rule. General exceptions can be found in comics cultures that
cater explicitly for an audience beyond children and teenagers. Japanese mangas for adults are a case
in point, of course, as are the artistically elaborated albums of the bande dessine for grown-ups in
France and Belgium. In America, the 1992 Pulitzer Prize for Art Spiegelmans Maus has somewhat
turned the tide and showed that comics have grown up (Yang ). The ensuing terminological debate
about comics (for children) and graphic novels (for adults) indicates, however, how heavily comics
still have to battle against prejudice.
Some illuminating examples can be cited from the academic world: James Kakalios, professor of physics
at the University of Minnesota, started to spice up his lectures with examples of comics in 2001. The
resounding success in motivating students that way made him develop a full-blown course and finally
a bestselling book on The Physics of Superheroes (2005). A similar project is The Periodic Table of
Comic Books, which is hosted at the Department of Chemistry at the University of Kentucky and super-
vised by John P. Seleque and F. James Holler. The German professor Felix Herzog has recently begun
to use the same method in a similarly dry field: law. His textbook on criminal law works with a series
of 30 cases depicted in comics.
20. Workshop II (Berninger) 247
ties of comics, it has also proved a limiting force. Comics have thus again
come to be seen in a reductive way, this time as the proverbial lump of (moti-
vating) sugar that makes the medicine of (serious) content go down.
Finally, new developments in the theory of education have lead to a re-
evaluation of comics in the classroom. Research on different types of learn-
ers has stressed the necessity to reach learners through their specic channels
and to develop their special learning strategies. Where visual learning had pre-
viously been sidelined as only an initial step toward higher forms of acquir-
ing knowledge, it is now stressed as one of the central elements of all learning
processes. Similarly, learning through narrative and creative work is no longer
seen just as an adornment of abstract cognitive strategies but as an integral
part of successful teaching. Professional educators have also formulated the
necessity to adapt teaching to the media reality of the 21st century, which
does not just comprise books and newspapers. One of the central skills pupils
should develop according to most new school curricula is media literacy.
For the role of comics in the classroom, these developments again have
proven to be a double-edged sword. While comics are ideal tools to engage
visual learners, to reach pupils through narrative, and to involve them in cre-
ative work, they have also often been identied as old-fashioned when com-
pared with the new media (esp. lm) that have come to be so vigorously
promoted in teaching. This sadly overlooks the mediating qualities of comics,
which could well help to bridge the gap between traditional literacy and new
media literacy.
PROS AND CONS

The short survey above has already highlighted some of the specic
strengths of comics in teaching, but it has also shown the difculties comics
face in the classroom. A table of arguments in favor of and against an increased
use of comics in education might be helpful to give the debate a systematic
frame.
+
An awareness of the existence of Among the varied and growing eld of
different media and their specic media, comics tend to be overlooked.
conditions is the basis on which They lack the traditional backing of
media education rests. Comics are literature or drama in school and
a widespread medium and they appear less trendy than
should therefore be considered. new electronic media.
Comics are also a prime example
of multimedia.
+
Comics promote visual learning. If they are used simply as illustrations,
They engage visual learners and pro- comics are superuous as a single
vide a counterpart to auditory learn- photograph or image is sufcient.
ing and traditional reading.
In contrast to lms or theater, comics The performative aspect of lms or
are permanent and not performance- theater is lost. The physical circum-
bound. This makes them effective stances of reading comics are similar to
teaching tools as they can be read at reading literature (seated, individual,
different speeds by pupils and can be silent, etc.). The auditory channel is
discussed while they are still visible. not used in comics.
Printed comics are not dependent The availability of comics is still some-
on electronic equipment, which what of a problem. High-quality
makes their handling in class easy comics can be expensive and are not
and allows for easy re-reading at always easily available. Parents are also
home. often reluctant to spend money on
comics. Budget (school) editions of
comics classics are still a desideratum,
though they begin to appear.
Comics are a hybrid medium consist- Comics could be seen as blurring the
ing of visual and narrative aspects. boundaries between different media.
They can function as a mediator They are often considered neither sh
between literature and visual art. nor esh, not real literature, not real
lm, and no real art.
Comics are not restricted to the Comics are usually not perceived as part
printed page; indeed, they translate of the electronic media. Many teach-
much better into electronic media ers might solely depend on their own
than literature. They also share many comics socialization, which relied on
aspects of lm. Comics thus form an print. The similarity of comics and lm
excellent bridge between traditional storyboards might be overlooked.
media and new media.
The reading of comics is very intui- The specic comics literacy has to be
tive and informs other media literacy. rened through training like all other
In contrast to reading literature, most literacy to gain a full understanding of
pupils can be expected to be readers texts. Pupils may not nd this very
of comics, and teaching can build engaging, and teachers might not pos-
on their experience. sess rened comics literacy themselves.
Comics can mediate between high- The image of comics as lowbrow, as
brow and lowbrow culture. a medium for people who cannot read
properly, still persists.
+
Comics are great motivators in If comics are regularly used as text-
teaching, especially for pupils who books, they might lose their specic
are not very interested in traditional appeal as the joke of using them is
texts and teaching methods. Part spoiled and the idea of bringing some-
of this motivation springs from the thing different and special into class
use of specically youth culture might get lost. On the other hand,
texts. his acknowledges the pupils comics might simply be used a moti-
being different (not adult) and their vating gags.
role as participants in their own
cultural scene.
Comics are ideal for interdisciplinary There is a danger that, due to tradi-
education at schools, for example, in tional training, no teacher and no spe-
projects that involve art, language cic subject feels particularly respon-
arts, computing skills, background sible for comics. Teachers of literature
research, etc. might see them as decient literature,
art teachers as decient art etc.
The drawing and writing of comics As with all creative group work, it is
is a great creative project, especially difcult to clearly assess the knowledge
as it can be done in groups, which gained or to give grades. Many teach-
brings out the different individual ers, due to lack of training, might also
strengths of the pupils. be unable to assess the qualities of the
pupils work. Art teachers might relish
the artwork but have difculties with
marking narrative qualities, etc.
Comics are ideal for presentations to As comics still suffer from being re-
parents and peers. They are accessible, garded as infantile, they might be re-
easy to insert in a presentation, and garded as unacademic in presentations.
motivate the audience.
Comics are especially effective in lan- Comics are usually relegated to the ini-
guage learning. They are ideal tools tial steps of language learning. The
for exercises in language production complexity of comics is thus glossed
if the speech bubbles are removed. over.
Comics are also very helpful in The assistance of the images could be
foreign language training as words seen as watering down the difculty
and images support each other of the language exercise. Comics might
and help to bridge language decits. also promote a half-reading of the
This provides an easy access to text, since it is often fairly easy to get
foreign language texts. the general drift of the story, but much
more difcult to understand the comic
in its entirety.
+
Foreign comics (even in translation) Comics are often seen as contributing
are also an ideal medium for the to the mishmash of cultures, for
introduction to foreign cultures. example, to the Americanization of
They combine specic cultural tra- European culture. As their specic
ditions with the depiction of every- value is still often overlooked, the
day life in other countries. ubiquitous mangas are often not seen in
the West as a chance to access Japanese
culture, but as a new wave of global-
ized kitsch.
Comics are intricately linked with Comics are intricately linked to youth
youth culture. This gives them their culture. This limits their scope and
vitality and subversive potential. often makes them part of commercial-
ized media campaigns.
As comics grow out of youth culture, Comics are still largely associated with
they often address topics charac- the superhero genre, which has created
teristic for the problems and experi- the idea that they formulate mostly
ences of teenagers. male adolescent fantasies of unlimited
power. The tradition of Western comics
is very much male-dominated and
offers little of interest for girls.
Like most media, comics can be Complex comics might be perceived by
applied to all possible subjects. pupils as heavy reading where they
Comics contain the entire spectrum expected straight entertainment. There
of human experience. are few comics that deal in an academic
way with abstract, scientic material.
A substantial and growing body of Access to secondary sources on comics
theoretical material on comics exists. is still problematic. Many libraries lack
Scott McClouds Understanding even the most basic works (of both
Comics: The Invisible Art is an primary and secondary literature).
ideal introductory textbook. Systematic academic research on comics
is still rare.
CONCLUSIONS
What follows from this? The rst aspect that becomes evident here is
that many of the strengths and weaknesses of comics in education either
depend on the hybridity of comics as a medium that combines aspects of the
visual and the literary or are linked to comics intimate connection with youth
culture. The task at hand is to build on the strengths of comics and promote
them as effective classroom tools. At the same time, educators also have to be
aware of the weaknesses of comics. These weaknesses should be counterbal-
anced, especially where prejudice is involved, but not negated. Comics are
not a remedy for all diseases and are not suited for all purposes. In many
cases, they should be used in conjunction with other media to be most effec-
tive. This, in turn, stresses one of the greatest potentials of comics: to medi-
ate between different discourses and to facilitate access to other elds.
However, comics in the classroom should not be reduced to this role. It
should be the objective of all comics experts to stress the artistic quality of
comics, which still often goes unnoticed. The development and renement
of a canon of comics is the essential next step. If this happened excessively at
the expense of comics rootedness in youth culture, for example, by strictly
separating high art graphic novels from low quality comics, much of the
teaching potential of this medium would be lost.
It is therefore another task at hand for comics experts and teachers to
embrace comics proximity to popular culture and to be open to new devel-
opments. The advance of mangas in the Western world offers, for example,
the almost unprecedented chance to interest children in Japanese or Korean
culture. In the wake of the manga boom many Western teenagers have even
begun to learn Japanese of their own accord. On the other hand, mangas also
allow for the previously difcult inclusion of girls in classwork with comics.
Teachers might be surprised to nd their female pupils very much versed in
shjo mangas, where themes of interest for girls are widely covered.*
The current development toward a greater inclusion of popular culture
and new media in classroom work offers a great chance to promote comics as
an educational tool, also because they might help to bridge the unnecessary
and unproductive confrontation between traditional literacy and new media
literacy. The same goes for the opposition of canonical texts and popular
culture. To achieve this, teacher training in the eld of comics has to be
improved. Special attention should be drawn to the diversity of comics, and
teachers should be made aware of the often-overlooked qualities of popular
comics. They should also be made familiar with the immense artistic value
of less well-known comics. Ultimately it is therefore necessary to further
develop comics studies in academia. Examples for this will be outlined in the
following chapters.
*Indeed, it seems as if the manga boom in the West comes to be mainly female dominated. The fact
that, for example, in Germany the shnen (boy) manga magazine Banzai has ceased publication while
its shjo (girl) opposite, Daisuki, is thriving is an indicator for this. Another case in point is the coplayer
movement, which is much dominated by female teenagers. See also the essay by Zank on Lolitas in this
volume.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Herzog, Felix. Strafrecht Illustrated: 30 Flle aus dem Strafrecht in Wort und Bild. Hamburg:
Merus, 2007.
Kakalios, James. The Physics of Superheroes. New York: Gotham, 2005.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper Collins, 1994.
NACAE [National Association of Comic Art Educators] homepage. http://www.teaching
comics.org/ (24 May 2007).
Seleque, John P., and F. James Holler. The Periodic Table of Comic Books. 19962005.
http://www.uky.edu/Projects/Chemcomics (24 May 2007).
Yang, Gene. Comics in Education. 2003. http://www.geneyang.com/comicsedu/ (24 May
2007).
21
Workshop III: Teaching Comics
and Literary Studies Neil Gaiman
and Charles Vess A Midsummer
Nights Dream
Mark Berninger
It has been outlined above that comics are an excellent tool to facilitate
and diversify access to other media. In the following session outline, the A
Midsummer Nights Dream episode from Neil Gaimans The Sandman:
Dream Country (1991, artwork by Charles Vess) will be used as an example
how a session on comics can be integrated in an introductory course in Lit-
erary Studies at university undergraduate level. The episode by Gaiman/Vess
has been chosen because it is easily accessible, relatively short (only 22 pages*)
and self-contained. The high artistic quality of the comic and its connection
with Shakespeare were of course other decisive points why this particular text
has been selected.
COURSE CONTEXT
The course plan of most Introduction to Literary Studies classes con-
tains a unit on Elizabethan drama due to Shakespeares unrivaled position as
the worlds most important dramatist. This is where the specic session on
A Midsummer Nights Dream by Gaiman/Vess could most easily be inserted.
Ideally, the Shakespearean Midsummer Nights Dream has already been read
*This counts just the narrative pages, which are numbered from 3 to 24 by Vess. Reference in the fol-
lowing will be to these page numbers. In the collected edition of The Sandman, these are the pages 65 86
of volume 3 [Dream Country].
253
in class and central features of Elizabethan drama have been introduced. The
session on the comics version by Gaiman/Vess then serves as a revision and
expansion of the material already covered. We assume this as the general frame
for the session plan but, as will be indicated below, the proposed session can
easily be adapted to different circumstances and course formats.
Instead of revision, the session can also serve as an introduction to Eliz-
abethan drama and Shakespeare in general or specically to A Midsummer
Nights Dream. A pre-reading activity could in this case consist of collect-
ing bits of the widespread general knowledge on Shakespeare and his plays
in class. The following discussion of the Gaiman/Vess comic could then build
on the context thus established. A probably more interesting alternative is
not to introduce the text at all and leave it to the students to discover and
explore the Shakespearean connection. After all, the name Shakespeare does
not appear until page 9 of the episode, and part of the fun in reading the
Gaiman/Vess comic lies in the gradual uncovering of the parallels to the
Shakespeare text.
TEACHING AIMS
A main aim of the session is to generate or deepen interest for the class
topic (Elizabethan drama, Shakespeare, A Midsummer Nights Dream) by
approaching it from an unusual angle. The comics version can provide a vari-
ant to and supplement the close reading and cultural context routines that
usually dominate Literary Studies classes. It thus facilitates or broadens access
to Elizabethan drama. The session also increases the specic understand-
ing of A Midsummer Nights Dream as key scenes of the play are highlighted
in the comic and supplemented with additional visual and narrative infor-
mation. This leads to an improved recollection of the play and a deepened
discussion of its central themes. The introduction of the biographical con-
text of Shakespeares life allows for an exploration of this topic with all the
historical research, guess-work, myth-making and ctionalization that sur-
rounds it.
The introduction of a Shakespeare adaptation in class also serves to focus
on the process of adaptation in general and to create an awareness for the prob-
lems connected with concepts like authorship, intertextuality, originality, or
delity to the original. This could also prove a starting point for an explo-
ration of central elements of postmodernism.
The discussion of a comics text necessitates the introduction of comic-
specic terminology, which in turn allows for a contrasting analysis of nar-
rative means and structures by comparing the comics text with a novel, drama,
21. Workshop III (Berninger) 255
or lm. An improved understanding of narratology is thus another aim of

the session, as is an increased ability to describe texts objectively and to form
a critical opinion. The intermedial aspect of an adaptation from drama to
comics also highlights the specic character of different media and thus helps
to broaden and combine traditional literacy and new media literacy.
In the context of a Literary Studies class, the session also introduces a
key phase of English literature and contributes to its understanding. If the
session is used with non-native speakers of English, it also supports language
training and facilitates the approach to Shakespearean English.
PRE-READING ACTIVITIES
Before the episode by Gaiman/Vess is introduced in class, the Shake-

spearean play should have been read and the following aspects should already
have been discussed in some depth:
the function of Puck and his ambiguous character (with a special focus on
his interaction with Oberon and on Pucks epilogue)
the contrast and interaction of fairy world and human world (e.g., by tak-
ing the relationship of Titania and Bottom in the scenes II.1.122ff and
IV.1.1ff as an example)
the symbol of the dream (e.g., by a close reading of Theseus and Hippolytas
reection on dreams in V.1.1ff )
the play-within-the-play and its functions
Ideally, the conict between Titania and Oberon has been especially
highlighted and the signicance of the Indian Boy pointed out in a close
reading of II.1.60145. It is also helpful if an introduction to Elizabethan
drama has already taken place and the following aspects have been covered
(in descending order of signicance):
boy actors playing female roles

commercial aspects of Elizabethan theater
London-based companies and touring the provinces
material aspects of the Renaissance stage (costumes, stage setup, backstage
action as reected in metadrama, etc.)
the tradition of clown actors in Elizabethan theater
The comic is understood more easily if the biography of Shakespeare,

especially the signicance of his son, Hamnet, has already been introduced.
However, all these layers of background information could also form part of
a gradual further exploration of the topic after the session has been taught
(see below).
The following session plan consists of two parts, which take 4560 min-
utes each (depending on how much time is given to the students for devel-
oping their own ideas or how heavily the teacher dominates and leads the
session). The two parts can be taught together in a (fairly packed) 90-min-
ute session or as two separate sessions. In the later case, which is preferable,
the whole comic should be read between the two parts. An in-class reading
of the entire comic is also possible at the beginning of part two, but it takes
about 25 minutes and consequently eats brutally into the class discussion
scheduled for the second part. If both parts of the session are taught en suite,
then the complete comic should have been read as homework before the ses-
sion starts.
SESSION PART ONE: HOW TO READ A COMIC
Depending on the set-up of the group and the point in the course plan
at which the session is taught, it might be necessary to start with an ice-
breaker question. The teacher could bring a number of comics to class, show
them and ask: Is this literature? Why? Why not? Usually there will be some
students in class who defend comics as literature while a majority will argue
against an incorporation of comics in the literary canon. The teacher should,
however, be ready to support both sides with good arguments (playing advo-
catus diaboli if necessary) when the discussion becomes lopsided in either
direction. If the chosen comics range, for example, from mangas, Mickey
Mouse, and Superman to Belgo-French albums (e.g., by Moebius or Enki
Bilal) and graphic novels (e.g., Maus or Blankets), the ensuing discussion
might be directed into developing and questioning the distinction between
high vs. low or popular vs. artistic comics. This could, in turn, inform
a general discussion on the denition of literature and the establishment of a
canon, which has probably already been part of the course anyway. If desired,
this could easily be expanded into a full session of its own (e.g., with group
work on the differences between the various comics or the restaging of the
1950s debate about the dangers and chances of comic reading as a role-play).
In the framework of the given session, however, the discussion should stick
to a spot-light character and not last for too long.
As an alternative to the Is this literature? opening, the teacher could
show one of the famous Roy Lichtenstein paintings based on a comics image
and ask Why is this art? This approach has the advantage that it probably
takes the students by surprise and steers them away from the topic of litera-
ture for a while, which might start an entirely fresh discussion. If the teacher
wants to take a more personal and less provocative approach, the session could
also start with asking for the specic comics experiences of the students (Do
you read comics? Have you read comics? Did you enjoy them? Why have you
stopped reading them? etc.). This opening naturally proves most effective in
small to medium-sized groups where students are less afraid of relating and
discussing personal experiences.
The opening discussion should then be channeled by the teacher into
the development of a rough mind map on comics that covers the constituent
parts of comics as a medium (panel, lettering, gutter, page setup, line, col-
oring, etc.). If the teacher wishes to expand this, different schools and authors,
connections to related genres (literature, art, lm), genre subdivisions within
the eld of comics and other information could be added. The mind map
should then be developed into a description of comics, which could follow
Scott McClouds denition of comics as sequential art (the relevant pas-
sages from Understanding Comics could be provided as supplementary read-
ing at home or used directly in class).
This should be followed by a short lecture from the teacher that intro-
duces the terminology relevant for the description of comics so far as this has
not been done already in connection with the mind map.* The teacher should
then outline some possibilities of what could be looked for especially in the
interpretation of comics in contrast to other media, for example, the use of
the gutter, the arrangement on the page, the page break, the use of color,
static image vs. dynamic action, the use of speech bubbles, etc. This should
be underlined with examples drawn from a variety of comics, or to sim-
plify the preparations for this session again with the help of McClouds
Understanding Comics.
The next step is to distribute sample pages of comics for analysis in
groups of three to four students. The aim of this group work is to apply the
terminology which has just been introduced and thus secure knowledge gained
through practical work. If the Gaiman/Vess comic has been read before the
session, then the sample pages could come from the episode. Pages 3 through
*Terminolog y can be selected from the list of terms supplied by Andrei Molotiu in his History of
Comic Book Art course description (see bibliography). Illustrative material can be taken from McCloud.
Naturally the selection of terms depends on the outline of the whole course. In a Film Studies class, terms
like framing, medium shot, canted framing, shot/reverse shot sequence, etc. can be taken for
granted, while narratological terms like diegesis and poetic devices like metonymy or synecdoche
have probably already been introduced in a Literary Studies course. Depending on the focus and inten-
sity the teacher chooses here, this part of the session can thus either serve as revision under different col-
ors or as a means to expand on analytic terminolog y.
Good sample pages are 3, 4, 5, 6, 11, 15, 22, and 23. As an alternative, each group could pick the page
from the comic that they find most interesting.
6, as they form the opening of A Midsummer Nights Dream, could be

included in the material distributed for analysis even if the comic is not yet
known to the students. Other sample pages should then be selected from dif-
ferent sources.* The phase of group work should close with a short presen-
tation of the results to the whole class by each group. If this takes too long,
the ndings could also be turned into very short essays (ca. 100 words) as
homework, which could be collected (and marked) or distributed among the
students for discussion.
SESSION PART TWO: GAIMAN/VESS AND SHAKESPEARE
If the session is split up into two separate sittings, then this second part
begins with a short recapitulation of the territory already gained, for exam-
ple, by discussion of one or two of the mini essays or by a joint analysis of a
new sample page, for example, the opening of A Midsummer Nights
Dream, if this has not been done so already by a group. As the comic by
Gaiman/Vess has now been read in its entirety by the students, the session
can then proceed with a direct comparison with Shakespeares A Midsummer
Nights Dream. This could be done again as group or partner work, or as a
plenary discussion. Leading questions could be:
Which scenes from the play are highlighted in the comic?
Which central themes of Shakespeares play receive special attention in the
comic?
Where does Gaiman/Vesss version differ from the usual perception of the
play?
Which aspects have been added to Shakespeares text by Gaiman and Vess?
How does Peaseblossom in Gaiman/Vess differ from Peaseblossom in Shake-
speare?
What is the role of the frame narrative in the comic and how is it con-
nected with Shakespeares play?
What is the role of the character Dream (who is also called Lord Shaper
by the fairies)?
*Paul Gravetts Graphic Novels Everything You Need to Know offers a host of sample pages that
could easily be copied and distributed. Good examples to contrast with Gaiman/Vesss work would be
Wares Jimmy Corrigan (Gravett 24f ), David B.s Epileptic (Gravett 28f, see also the chapter by
Engelmann in this volume), Saccos Palestine (Gravett 68f, see also the chapter by Vanderbeke in this
volume), Moebius The Airtight Garage (Gravett 90f ), and Woodrings The Frank Book (Gravett
136f ). If the teacher wants to put special emphasis on the specific style of Neil Gaiman and wishes to
introduce Dream as a character, then the sample pages from Sandman that are reproduced in Gravett
(98f ) could be used.
Which comic-specic means do Gaiman and Vess employ to underline all

this?
The following aspects should emerge from the discussion of these questions:
Gaiman weaves his tale around Shakespeares play. He creates a frame narra-
tive that explains the special character of A Midsummer Nights Dream (and
by implication also of The Tempest) as inspired by the Lord of Dreams. This
accounts, among other things, for the fact that A Midsummer Nights Dream
is one of the small group of plays in which Shakespeare appears not to have
depended upon already existing narrative material. [...] [W]e know of noth-
ing that would have provided the main story of A Midsummer Nights Dream
(Wells 14). The frame narrative also hints at a number of historical details
connected with Shakespeares life: the plague in London, the death of Christo-
pher Marlowe, the members of Shakespeares troupe of actors (e.g., William
Kemp and Henry Condell), and nally the death of Shakespeares son, Ham-
net.
Thematically the frame narrative is connected to Shakespeares play in
numerous ways that mirror, invert, and vary elements of the play. Where, for
example, the mechanicals in Shakespeare rehearse their play in the woods and
perform at the Athenian court, the actors in Gaiman/Vess have rehearsed in
London and now perform in the wilderness for the court of the fairies. The
identities of the actors and their roles become blurred, most obviously so in
the case of Hamnet/The Indian Boy. In a metadramatical turn that mirrors
Shakespeares play-within-the-play, the audience of the performance in
Gaiman/Vess is identical with the characters embodied on stage (Auberon,
Titania, Puck, Peaseblossom, etc.). This also introduces an element of rein-
terpretation of Shakespeares play, as some of the fairies in the audience do
not appear as they are usually represented in productions of the Shakespeare
play. Instead of the beautiful little girl with wings into which Victorian inter-
pretations of the fairy world has turned her, Peaseblossom is a rather ghastly
and nightmarish gure more reminiscent of a tree than a human being.
The fairies in the audience also take over the structural function that the
mechanicals have in Shakespeares play, that is to provide an additional level
of comedy through travesty. This is highlighted on page 18 of Gaiman/Vess,
when Peaseblossom proclaims that the performance he witnesses [i]ssa woss-
name, travelogue? Nah. Travesty. Thats it.
The fact that Shakespeares comedy is dangerously close to tragedy due
to the mischief Puck is playing on the humans is underlined by another nar-
rative turn that Gaiman/Vess introduce. After he has put the actor incorpo-
rating him to sleep, the Puck of the fairy audience takes over his own role in
the performance of Shakespeares troupe. The epilogue of the play, which in
Shakespeare is a classical example of captatio benevolentiae, thus turns Gaiman/

Vess into a sinister and foreboding scene, which underlines the malicious
character of Puck and points toward later appearances of this character in The
Sandman (see also the remark Robin Goodfellows present whereabouts are
unknown, which closes the episode). The signicance of this is underlined
by the use of color in the comic, which moves from a bright opening to darker
and darker tones to end with an entirely dark panel on page 23.
The contrast between dream (fairy) world and reality, which is so essen-
tial to Shakespeares play, is highlighted in Gaiman/Vess by the stark color con-
trast of page 23 and 24, where the darkness spread by Puck with the turning of
the page (Gaiman and Vess here use the physical outline of the comic to great
effect) changes into a sunny and green morning. The events of the night then
seem only a bad dream but, as in Shakespeares play, their inuence is still
felt. Although the colors in the nal panels are similar to the opening panels
of the comic, which gives the comic a circular character, the shadow of the
dreams looms on in the form of the impending tragedy surrounding Hamnet.
Interestingly it is Shakespeare in the Gaiman/Vess comic who utters the words
Foolish fancies, boy (24) when Hamnet alludes to the strange experience
he has had. This echoes the discussion between Theseus and Hippolyta about
the signicance of dreams and their connection to poets and madness in V.1.1ff,
a passage from the play that Gaiman was naturally keen to include, highlight,
and vary in the comic. It is therefore singled out here for close reading.
Pages 1921 show how Gaiman and Vess integrate the discourse on
dreams in the comic. The monologue of Bottom after he awakes at the end
of act IV, scene 1, in Shakespeare (I have had a most rare vision) forms the
frame of page 19 in Gaiman/Vess. It is slightly abbreviated and split into two
page-wide panels at the top and bottom of the page. Inserted between and
overlapping these two panels is a tight dialogue of four square panels between
Dream and Titania, which is thus indicated as going on parallel to the stage
action. The topic of this dialogue are the doubts that notoriously haunt Dream
in The Sandman. He mentions the price Shakespeare will have to pay for
getting what he wants and thus foreshadows the ending of the comic. The
dark mood of Dreams musings is underlined by the black speech bubbles with
wavy edges, which always characterize him in The Sandman but here form an
especially strong contrast to the other characters. Page 19 is also the point from
where the increasing darkness sets in, which leads to an almost complete loss
of color on page 23.
Page 20 starts with the opening of act V of Shakespeares play and jux-
taposes the brightly lit action on stage (panel 1) with the reverse shot of a dark
and gloomy audience. This undermines the famous ne frenzy monologue
of Theseus (played by Shakespeare in Gaiman/Vess) which at a surface
level dismisses the signicance of dreams. In Gaiman/Vess the dark gures

of the fairies with their glowing red eyes make clear that dreams are much
more than an airy nothing (V.1.16). The dream topic is developed further
on page 21 in a dialogue between Dream and the king and queen of the fairies.
Auberon, who now resembles Theseus in his line of argument, says, We
thank you Shaper. But this diversion, although pleasant, is not true. Things
never happened thus. To this Dream replies with a curtsy to Titania: Oh,
but it IS true. Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams
are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes
and forgot. From this dialogue, which has again been inserted as parallel to
the stage action, the comic returns at the bottom of the page to the perform-
ance of A Midsummer Nights Dream, ironically with Hippolytas metadra-
matical remark, This is the silliest stuff that I ever heard (V.1.207). This is
countered by Theseus enigmatic The best in this kind are but shadows; and
the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them (V.1.2089).
The fact that this commentary within the play mirrors the preceding dia-
logue between Dream and the fairy rulers is underlined by the juxtaposition
of Dream and the fairies facing right and toward the reader and the actors
facing left and away from the reader. The contrast between the sphere of the
fairies and the human (theatrical) world is stressed through a difference in
size (Dream and the fairies are shown in the medium shots and close-ups that
are typical for dialogue passages, whereas the actors are depicted in a long
shot) and by the use of the panel borders and background. While Dream and
the fairy rulers are enclosed in panels with clear black frames and a tense dark
background of foliage, the actors hover in an unbordered white eld.
On the following page the stage action and the audience (fairy) action
cease to run parallel to each other and begin to merge. This is indicated by
the blending of the previously brightly colored stage action into the bluish
and dark tones of the fairy action. The Auberon in the audience now assumes
the function of Oberon in A Midsummer Nights Dream in calling the fairies
(especially Puck) to leave. But instead of the nuptial blessing of Shakespeares
play (V.1.381ff ), the mischievous Puck rebels and decides to stay as the last
hobgoblin in a dreary world (22). This is the turning point of the story,
which is captured in panel 4 on page 22, where Puck discharges the mask of
the theatrical character Puck, which he has taken on earlier. As the goblin
thus becomes himself again, the theatrical order is lost. A disoriented Shake-
speare in the role of Theseus asks Whats happening? and the page ends in
a dramatic panel showing a blinding blast of light that spreads underneath
the preceding panels. What follows are the two epilogues already described
above, the epilogue of Puck from Shakespeares play, which is turned into a
dark omen, and the return to the frame narrative of the comic.
POINTS FOR FURTHER EXPLORATION AND ADAPTATION

TO DIFFERENT COURSE FORMATS
When the session on the Gaiman/Vess episode has ended with a close
reading of the comic, there are a still a number of points left that could be
used for a further development of themes. Most of the following suggestions,
however, presuppose a course format different from the normal Introduc-
tion to Literary Studies class, which usually does not allow for lengthy (mul-
tisession) explorations of individual topics.
The most logical direction into which teaching could be developed after
the session would be an exploration of The Sandman as a whole or maybe
specically of the volume Fables and Reections. As Fables and Reections con-
sists of a collection of self-contained but interconnected stories, it provides
additional material that can easily be tailored to any time slot available. The
reading questions by Rocco Versaci on Fables and Reections provided on the
NACAE (National Association of Comic Art Educators) homepage indicate
directions into which the discussion of the other stories might go. Benders
The Sandman Companion offers a wealth of additional material on the whole
comic series.
As has been indicated above, the session on A Midsummer Nights
Dream by Gaiman and Vess could also be used as a starting point to discuss
the specics of Elizabethan theater, the historical background of the late 16th
century, or Shakespeares biography if this has not already been done before
the session. This could be connected with another, thematically more specic
point raised by the comic, namely the ctionalization of the Bard. The
comics treatment of Shakespeares biography offers the possibility to discuss
the contrast of historical reality and ctionalized past. An interesting com-
panion text to explore the development of Bardology further is Peter Barnes
play Jubilee (2001), which deals with the introduction of the Shakespeare fes-
tival at Stratford-upon-Avon by David Garrick in 1769. On a more general
level, this could lead to an analysis of Shakespeares history plays, to Walter
Scotts concept of the historical novel, and to contemporary historical meta-
ction (see Hutcheon and Engler/Mller) in a course focusing on represen-
tations of history in literature.
If the teacher wants to expand on the Shakespearean references in
Gaimans comics, but A Midsummer Nights Dream for some reason proves
impracticable as a point of reference in a specic course, then the Tempest
episode from The Sandman: The Wake (1996) might serve as an alternative.
If the two dream play episodes, which were designed by Gaiman as direct
counterpieces, are taken together, the session outlined above can be expanded
into a unit of two (long) sessions.
Naturally, the session as it has been outlined above could also form part
of a course entirely devoted to Shakespeare. Beyond the obvious possibilities
for integrating the comic in such a class, another interesting point for further
discussion could spring from the passage on the signicance of dreams, which
has been analyzed above. Dreams remarks on page 21 in Gaiman/Vess could
form the basis of a discussion of the immortality through poetry theme,
which is one of the main topics of Shakespeares sonnets, for example, in the
famous sonnet no. 18 (Shall I compare thee to a summers day) or in the
only slightly less well-known sonnet no. 55 (Not marble, nor the gilded
monuments).
The session on Gaimans comic, either in a longer or short format, can
also be embedded in various more specic literature classes at undergraduate
or graduate level, for example, in a course on postmodernism or, more
specically, on contemporary Shakespeare adaptations, for example, in com-
bination with Tom Stoppards Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (1996),
Terry Pratchetts Wyrd Sisters (1988) and Lords and Ladies (1992), or Jasper
Ffordes Something Rotten (2004).
If the session plan is changed slightly, the Gaiman/Vess comics can also
be used in an introductory course in Theatre Studies or a Film Studies class
which deals, for example, with Shakespeare adaptations. Connections to lm
versions of A Midsummer Nights Dream can easily be drawn, for example, to
the 1999 adaptation starring Kevin Kline and Michelle Pfeiffer (dir. Michael
Hoffman) or freer adaptations like Sommarnattens Leende (1955, dir. Ingmar
Bergman) and A Midsummer Nights Sex Comedy (1982, dir. Woody Allen).
Equally, similarities to the use of the Shakespearean play as an intertextual
reference in lms like Dead Poets Society (1989, dir. Peter Weir) could be high-
lighted.
This could also be integrated in a course that deals with adaptation in
lm and highlights the interaction of lm and comics. The following session
plan, which was also developed in the Lambrecht workshops and has been
spelled out by Andreas Rauscher, deals specically with this topic.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Barnes, Peter. Jubilee. London: Methuen, 2001.
Bender, Hy. The Sandman Companion. London: Titan, 2000.
Engler, Bernd, and Kurt Mller. Historiographic Metaction in Modern American and Cana-
dian Literature. Paderborn: Schoeningh, 1994.
Gaiman, Neil. The Sandman: Fables and Reections. New York: Vertigo, 1993.
Gaiman, Neil, and Charles Vess. A Midsummer Nights Dream. Sandman #19. The Sand-
man: Dream Country. New York: Vertigo, 1991.
_____. The Tempest. Sandman #75. The Sandman: The Wake. New York: Vertigo, 1999.
Gravett, Paul. Graphic Novels. Everything You Need to Know. New York: Collins Design,
2005.
Hutcheon, Linda. Narcissistic Narrative: The Metactional Paradox. New York: Methuen,
1984.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: HarperCollins, 1994.
Molotiu, Andrei. History of Comic Book Art Course Schedule. http://www.teaching
comics.org/syllabi/19.pdf (24 May 2007).
NACAE homepage. http://www.teachingcomics.org/ (24 May 2007).
Versaci, Rocco. Reading Questions: Neil Gaimans Sandman: Fables and Reections.
http://www.teachingcomics.org/studyguide/studyguide4.php (24 May 2007).
Wells, Stanley. Introduction. A Midsummer Nights Dream, by William Shakespeare. Edited
by Stanley Wells. London: Penguin, 1995, 737.
22
Workshop IV: Teaching Comics
and Film Studies Ang Lees
The Hulk (USA 2003)
Andreas Rauscher
In the late 1990s and early 2000s a signicant change in the popularity
and the aesthetics of comic book adaptations has been noticed and not only
by acionados of the art form. Recent developments in CGI (computer-gen-
erated images) have resulted in a vast variety of new approaches towards the
adaptation of comic books. Films like Sin City (USA 2005) by Robert Rodri-
guez and Frank Miller were shot entirely in front of a green screen, which
was later replaced with computer graphics recreating the moody, noir-inspired
set pieces from the graphic novel of the same title. The superhero genre
reached new heights by offering different takes on well-known series, from a
darker and more realistic version of Batman (Batman Begins, dir. Christopher
Nolan, USA 2005/2008) and the psychologically motivated everyday trou-
bles of Spider-Man (dir. Sam Raimi, USA 2002/2004/2007) to fun movies
featuring The Fantastic Four (dir. Tim Story, USA 2005/2007).
Nevertheless ambitious directors did not only employ the new techno-
logical possibilities to achieve more impressive visual effects as one would
expect from a state-of-the-art blockbuster movie but at the same time they
used them in order to create innovative synergetic effects combining the spa-
tial perception of the printed image with the mobile frame of the moving
image. The resulting cross-over between cinematic codes and well-known
comic book stylistics provides an accessible and promising starting point for
a discussion on the similarities and differences between both media that can
be used in different academic courses on the subject of comics and lm.
The following chapter outlines a few suggestions in what way this sub-
265
ject could be included in an introductory class on lm studies as well as in a

course on the aesthetics of comic books. The sample analysis discussed on
the following pages focuses on the stylistic approach of Ang Lees The Hulk,
released by Universal Pictures in 2003. This lm takes a rather unconven-
tional approach toward a mainstream comic book adaptation by self-con-
sciously breaking with established directing styles in order to give the lm a
distinctive look based on traditional comic books. After a short introduction
featuring some ideas on how to prepare the session, the essay will take a closer
look on a sequence from the lm and its dening stylistic devices. The last
paragraph offers several points for further discussion in class.
INTRODUCTION AND PREPARATION
Before the session, the complete lm The Hulk by Ang Lee, available on
DVD from Universal Home Entertainment, should be screened for the class.
Additionally, the students should read the rst ten pages of Scott McClouds
Understanding Comics, including his denition of comics as sequential art,
as well as the discussion of cinematic framing methods featured in Film Art
An Introduction by David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson for homework
(the relevant pages are pp. 182207).
An effective way to get the students involved at the beginning of the les-
son is to discuss if they are familiar with the character of Bruce Banner/the
Hulk, what makes him different from other (traditional) comic book heroes
and if they know predecessors from literature or lm to which the Hulk could
be related to. In this context, Frankensteins creature, reected in the hostil-
ity the Hulk experiences from government ofcials, civil mobs and military
forces, and the split personality of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, echoed in the
Hulks civil identity of scientist Bruce Banner, should be mentioned in par-
ticular. The focus on misunderstood heroes has become a trademark of Mar-
vel comics from the early 1960s on and should be summarized in a short
survey as well. If the topic is divided into several sessions, the differences
between the Golden and the Silver Age, exemplied by comparing, for exam-
ple, a Superman comic strip from the 1930s to an issue of The Amazing Spi-
der-Man from the 1960s or 1970s, would be well-suited for an additional oral
presentation prepared by a group of students.
A second step in the introduction of the topic would be to discuss what
lms based upon comic books the students are familiar with. If only current
productions are known by the class, it would be helpful to mention predigi-
tal efforts like the Superman series (USA 1978/1980/1984/1987) by Richard
Donner and Richard Lester, the two Batman lms (USA 1989/1992) by Tim
22. Workshop IV (Rauscher) 267
Burton or Dick Tracy (USA 1990) by Warren Beatty, all of which had to rely
on architecture, make-up, costume and set design in order to create the
articial look associated with traditional comic books. In order to provide an
appropriate impression of this aesthetic style screenshots from the lms and
excerpts from comic books can be presented to the class. The differences
between analogue and digital comic book adaptations should be discussed
before approaching the analysis of The Hulk. Topics of relevance include the
use of digital backgrounds like the recreation of Times Square in the rst
Spider-Man lm or the unusual perspectives created by the combination of
CGI shots and real footage. If several sessions are available it would be help-
ful to show select scenes like the ght between Spider-Man and the Green
Goblin from Sam Raimis Spider-Man (USA 2002) to the class.
The discussion should not focus on technical details but consider signi-
cant differences between analogue and digital lmmaking on a more general
level. An interesting topic would be, for example, if the use of digital effects
contributes to a more complex illusion of reality or if the employment of
techniques more characteristic of animation than of feature lms creates a
rather articial atmosphere. The pros and cons of this debate can be used as
groundwork with regard to the sample sequence from The Hulk and to the
question of which stylistic elements of Ang Lees visual composition remind
the class of comic book aesthetics.
For the session, a handout featuring some important key terms for the
analysis of a lm has to be prepared. This should include the basic denitions
of shots (long, medium, close-up), of framing, of sequence, and of split-
screen. These can be taken from the glossary included in Bordwells and
Thompsons Film Art:
Framing: The use of the edges of the lm frame to select and to compose what
will be visible onscreen.
Sequence: Term commonly used for a moderately large segment of lm, involv-
ing one complete stretch of action. In a narrative lm, often equivalent
to a scene.
Shot: In the nished lm, one uninterrupted image, whether or not there is
mobile framing.
Split-screen: Stylistic device often employed in lms from the 1970s to show
two simultaneous events within the same frame [190194].
In addition to introducing those key terms, the principles of continuity edit-
ing should be explained. Helpful examples can be found in Classical Holly-
wood productions, for example in many lms by director Alfred Hitchcock
such as the opening sequence of The Birds (USA 1963). The lm opens with
a scene shot on location in San Francisco and then switches to footage recorded
on a sound stage at the Universal studios. The change between the two sets
occurs during a shot in which actress Tippi Heddren passes a commercial ad
lling out the whole frame for a short moment. In this way the audience does
not necessarily notice that two separately recorded scenes were used to build
the whole sequence. In lm history, continuity editing has been regarded as
one of the trademarks of the Classical Hollywood style. As explained by Bor-
dwell and Thompson, continuity editing tries to keep up the illusion of spa-
tial and dramatic unity:
The basic purpose of the continuity system is to allow space, time, and action
to continue in a smooth ow over a series of shots[...]. First, graphic qualities
are usually kept roughly continuous from shot to shot. The gures are balanced
and symmetrically deployed in the frame; the overall lighting tonality remains
constant; the action occupies the central zone of the screen [231].
On a visual level there are many similarities between lms and comic
books, especially since graphic novels like Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave
Gibbons or The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller began to emulate cin-
ematic trademarks like camera movements and editing patterns in the
mid1980s.
In comic books, references to lm syntax can imitate the smooth ow
that, according to Bordwell and Thompson, continuity editing had on tra-
ditional lm audiences. But nevertheless the fragmentation of the visual nar-
rative by the panel structure remains, even if graphic novels become similar
to the story-board for a lm. This basic difference between both media can
be introduced in a comprehensible way by discussing the key terms for lm
analysis summarized on the handout. While the framing of an image is impor-
tant for lms and comic books as well, it is quite difcult to nd an equiva-
lent for the uninterrupted image of a cinematic shot in a comic book.
DISCUSSING THE SEQUENCE

It is characteristic of the lms of director Ang Lee (The Ice Storm, Crouch-
ing Tiger Hidden Dragon, Brokeback Mountain) that he brings a keen sense of
stylistic devices to his new perspectives on traditional genre topics. In The
Hulk he combines the psychological update of traditional horror motives taken
from the source material with a reection on the formal differences between
lms and comic books. Not only focusing on the superhuman skills of the
Hulk, which are characteristic of heroic fantasy, Lees lm offers several inno-
vative compositions that provide an interesting sample of the complex rela-
tionship between visuals on page and on screen.
The sequence discussed here occurs mid-way through the lm and indi-
cates a signicant turning point in the story.* Having being imprisoned by

military forces under the command of General Ross (Sam Elliott), the prej-
udiced father of his love interest Betty ( Jennifer Connelly), scientist Bruce
Banner (Eric Bana) turns into the Hulk. During an action scene, the misun-
derstood monster escapes from the secret research lab into the desert. In com-
parison to huge set pieces in conventional blockbuster productions, Lee, who
at rst tried to put the sequence in chronological order, decided to give the
action an almost abstract quality by way of unconventional editing. On the
audio commentary of the DVD, the director explains that he was aiming for
a larger-than-life cutting style.
One of the most striking devices Ang Lee uses throughout the lm, and
which features prominently in the selected sequence, is the split-screen effect.
He uses this rather old-fashioned device in order to emulate the panel struc-
ture of a traditional comic book on screen. In one shot of the sequence, he
even divides the image into many multiframes of equal size that resemble the
structure of a printed page from a comic book. David Bordwell explains the
traditional function of the split-screen effect as follows: In this process, two
or more images, each with its own frame dimensions and shape, appear within
the larger frame. From the early cinema onward, this device has been used to
present scenes of telephone conversations[...]. Multiple-frame imagery is also
useful for building suspense[...]. We gain a godlike omniscience as we watch
two or more actions at exactly the same moment (Bordwell and Thompson
187). In some sequences Ang Lee follows the traditional use of split-screen
mentioned by Bordwell by showing two characters like Bruce Banner and his
estranged father, played by Nick Nolte, during a phone conversation or by
presenting a relationship of cause and effect by connecting two events taking
place in different places within the same frame. Although in those scenes the
lm provides the audience with knowledge about events taking place in sep-
arate locations, the use of split-screen also transcends the effect of an implied
omniscient narrator. It raises the awareness of comic book syntax, for exam-
ple when a smaller frame is moved within a larger shot as if the camera were
imitating a readers gaze looking at a series of panels.
Several scenes present the same person from different angles, for exam-
ple, three shots of Sam Elliott as General Ross combined within one frame.
The viewer does not gain any further knowledge from this composition.
Rather, the redundancy of the visual content is meant to be reminiscent of
the way in which panels are arranged in comic books. On the printed page
the repetition of the same visual content within several panels can create the
impression of passing time. According to the syntax of comic books, this
*The relevant time code for the sequence is 01:28 01:33 (DVD version of the film).
device can be considered as the equivalent of a slow-motion effect. Since the

temporal structure of a comic can only be hinted at in an abstract way by the
repetition of similar images, it must be constructed in the mind of the reader.
In a lm, a similar use of images within a split-screen composition disrupts
the continuous temporal ow of 24 frames per second. Retransferred to the
cinema screen, the visual composition of several frames showing similar phases
of the same action does not fulll the function of illustrating the passage of
time like in a comic book any more. It rather illustrates the differences between
both media.
Scott McCloud explains in his denition of comics as sequential art:
Each successive frame of a movie is projected on exactly the same space
the screen while each frame of comics must occupy a different space. Space
does for comics what time does for lm (7). Ang Lees editing of The Hulk
illustrates this denition in an innovative and sophisticated way. Instead of
using it as a tongue-in-cheek reference to stylistic devices popular in thrillers
from the 1960s, the director tries to nd new ways to raise the consciousness
for the conguration of time and space in lms and comic books.*
Apart from the use of split-screen compositions, Ang Lee also resorts to
a whole variety of other stylistic devices to create what he calls a combina-
tion of comic book translation and horror lm. After watching the sample
sequence and discussing its characteristic use of split-screen effects, other
visual elements reminiscent of comic book aesthetics should be named by the
students. For example, the inclusion of bright, almost neon colors, which is
not very typical for a hidden military base, and the very stylized sound effects
support the overall impression of the larger-than-life style of superhero
comics.
One of the most obvious approaches toward the look of comic books is
the use of freeze-frame when Banners evil adversary, Talbot ( Josh Lucas), is
hit by the Hulk and suddenly stops in mid-air in a panel-like frame (at time
code 1:33). In comparison to those eye-catching visuals, there are, in addi-
tion, rather more hidden devices meant to recall the aesthetics of a comic book:
the occasional rapid change of distance between the camera and the portrayed
action from one shot to the next is, like the split-screen effect, reminiscent
of the images presented in panels. Another technique, employed by Sam Raimi
in his Spider-Man lms as well as by Ang Lee in The Hulk, is the jerky pan-
*If the sequence is discussed in an introductory course to film studies this might offer a good opportu-
nity to discuss the split-screen effect in regard to film historical developments, for example, from its char-
acteristic use in a classical action drama like John Frankenheimers Grand Prix (USA 1966) to its
nostalgic use in Quentin Tarantinos tribute to Blaxploitation cinema, Jackie Brown (USA 1997) and
its representation of a disturbed state of mind in Bruce MacDonalds experimental teenager drama The
Tracey Fragments (Canada 2006).
Cf. the audio commentary on the DVD version of The Hulk (Universal Home Entertainment, 2003).
ning of the camera in several scenes (for example during the sample sequence
at time code 1:32). Since it is difcult to notice the digitally created distor-
tion in movement, occurring when Talbot enters the hallway in which the
Hulk has been trapped on a rst viewing, the scene should be shown several
times. Similar to the effect created by jump-cuts, made famous by Jean-Luc
Godard in bout de soufe/Breathless (France 1960), which interrupt the ow
of a lm by consciously leaving out parts of a characters or an objects nat-
ural movement, jerky panning disturbs the viewers perception of the action.
Just like the split-screen effects refer to the panel structure in comics, the use
of jerky panning is reminiscent of the representation of movement in a comic
book, which can only be depicted in a fragmented way either by using so-
called speed lines within a panel or by adding the second phase of a move-
ment within the next panel. On a more general level the camera position and
angles used throughout The Hulk imitate the framing of comic panels as well.
Instead of using highly dynamic hand-held cameras or the so-called steady-
cam system, stylistic choices that have become regular elements of many recent
action lms like Mission Impossible 3 (USA 2006) and the Bourne series (USA
2002/2004/2007), Lee favors long and medium shots to present the action.
The mobility of the camera within the frame seems to be rather limited.
Instead of relying on mise-en-scne, which focuses on the staging of the events
for the camera (including set design, lighting, and the choreography of the
actors) and uninterrupted movements, in The Hulk, Lee is more concerned
with the principles of montage, which echo the function of the gutter, the
elliptical space between two panels, in comics. If the analysis of the lm is
part of a lm studies introduction, this discovery could also provide an inter-
esting starting point for a discussion on why editing and reduced camera
movements are maybe closer to the syntax of comic books than an elaborate
mise-en-scne (which is nevertheless crucial in making the ctional world
believable).
FURTHER TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION
The discussion of the sample sequence can be extended to other ques-

tions for further sessions. Here are a few examples that can be varied accord-
ing to the eld of studies the course is part of:
The Hulk turned out to be not as successful as Marvel and Universal Pic-
tures had expected. What could be the reason for the lm not having
enough crossover appeal to mainstream as well as art house audiences?
Do the rather abstract formal elements like the use of split-screen and
freeze-frame affect the audiences empathy with the main character neg-
atively?
Does Ang Lee offer a personal view on the material? Are there motifs, for
example the focus on family structures, that connect to other lms by
the same director?
Can Lees directing style be compared to the individual approach taken by
well-known comics artists and writers like Alan Moore or Frank Miller
when they take on a popular superhero character like Batman for a stand-
alone graphic novel?
Ang Lee employs digital effects to break with the tradition of continuity
editing and focuses on the cinematic recreation of traditional comic book
aesthetics instead. In what other ways can technological developments
be used to create a new synergy between lm and comics? How does
Sam Raimi use digital effects in his Spider-Man lms? What sequences
could be compared to the self-conscious approach taken by Lee, and are
there also other situations that use digital effects in the tradition of clas-
sical continuity editing?
Comic artists and writers like Frank Miller (Sin City), Dave McKean (Mir-
ror Mask) and Enki Bilal (Immortal) became directors of their own mate-
rial. Does this personal involvement inuence the visual style of the
nished lm, and in what ways can digital technology help to make the
transition from comics writer and/or artist to director succeed?
These are only a few examples to discuss the growing connections between
lm and comic books. Whether the boom of comic adaptations during the
early-to-mid-2000s will continue or not, the synergetic effects achieved dur-
ing those years indicate that the topic does not belong exclusively to lm or
literary studies but should be considered within the larger frame of ongoing
interdisciplinary research projects.
FILMOGRAPHY
Batman. Dir. Tim Burton. Starring Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson. Warner Bros. Pictures,
1989.
Batman Begins. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Starring Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Nee-
son. Warner Bros. Pictures, 2005.
The Birds. Dir. Alfred Hitchcock. Starring Rod Taylor, Tippi Heddren. Universal Pictures,
1963.
The Bourne Identity. Dir. Doug Liman. Starring Matt Damon, Franka Potente. Universal,
2002.
The Bourne Supremacy. Dir. Paul Greengrass. Starring Matt Damon, Franka Potente, Julia
Stiles. Universal, 2004.
The Bourne Ultimatum. Dir. Paul Greengrass. Starring Matt Damon, Julia Stiles, David
Strathairn. Universal, 2007.
Breathless [ bout de soufe]. Dir. Jean-Luc Godard. Starring Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean
Seberg. 1960.
Dick Tracy. Dir. Warren Beatty. Starring Warren Beatty, Charlie Corsmo. Touchstone Pic-
tures, 1990.
The Fantastic Four 1 2. Dir. Tim Story. Starring Chris Evans, Jessica Alba. 20th CenturyFox,
2005/2007.
Grand Prix. Dir. John Frankenheimer. Starring James Garner, Eva Marie Saint, Yves Mon-
tand. MGM, 1966.
The Hulk. Dir. Ang Lee. Starring Eric Bana, Nick Nolte, Jennifer Connelly. Universal Pic-
tures, 2002.
Immortal. Dir. Enki Bilal. Starring Linda Hardy, Thomas Kretschmann, Charlotte Ram-
pling. TF1 Films, 2004.
Jackie Brown. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Starring Robert De Niro, Samuel Jackson, Pam Grier.
Miramax, 1997.
Mirror Mask. Dir. Dave McKean. Starring Stephanie Leonidas, Jason Barry. Jim Henson
Productions, 2005.
Sin City. Dir. Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller. Starring Mickey Rourke, Elijah Wood,
Clive Owen. Dimension, 2005.
Spider-Man 1 3. Dir. Sam Raimi. Starring Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst. Columbia:
2002/2004/2007.
Superman. Dir. Richard Donner. Starring Christopher Reeve, Margot Kidder. Warner Bros.
Pictures, 1978.
The Tracey Fragments. Dir. Bruce Macdonald. Starring Ellen Page, Libby Adams. Shadow
Shows, 2007.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bordwell, David, and Kristin Thompson. Film Art. An Introduction. 7th edition. Boston:
McGraw-Hill, 2004.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics. New York: Harper Perennial, 1993.
Miller, Frank: The Dark Knight Returns. New York: DC Publishing, 1986.
Moore, Alan, and Dave Gibbons: Watchmen. New York: Titan Books, 1987.
23
Comic Linguistics: Comics and
Cartoons in Academic Teaching*
Christina Sanchez
I am a linguist, and I am a comic lover. As I am trained academically to

compare and contrast entities with regard to their similarities, differences and
potential combinability, it follows almost inevitably that I should try to rec-
oncile those two interests. In my own teaching, the central aims are the trans-
mission of knowledge about linguistic phenomena and linguistic training in
general. In this chapter, I wish to demonstrate that comics and cartoons can
be used in various ways to support those aims. As these art forms represent a
combination of both text and image, with the image as the perceptively more
salient part, they can be used in many contexts where images are tradition-
ally employed. Seeing that language is its central preoccupation and research
interest, linguistics is predominantly language- and text-based. In contrast to
many other academic disciplines, such as art history, archaeology or geology,
it cannot draw on many inherent visual or even haptic stimuli for example,
paintings, pot shards or pieces of rock. Therefore, comics and cartoons con-
stitute perfect teaching material for linguists by permitting an increased
involvement of the visual channel in addition to the printed or aural texts
that are traditionally dealt with. After discussing some general advantages of
comics and cartoons as teaching material, I will suggest how these art forms
can be drawn on in linguistics courses.
*I am grateful to my former English teacher, Wolfgang Preu, for swamping me and my fellow pupils with
funny cartoons during my school days, thus showing me that they can be successfully employed in a teaching
context. Another thank you goes to Mike Marks for permission to include his cartoon in this volume.
Following Eisner (1985), the term comic is used here to refer to the sequential arrangement of more
than one frame containing images and words, while the term cartoon refers to a single-frame entity.
An intermediate category is formed by comic strips, which are arranged sequentially like comics, but
which consist of a fairly small number of frames.
274
23. Comic Linguistics (Sanchez) 275
WHY COMICS AND CARTOONS ARE IDEALLY

SUITED AS TEACHING MATERIAL
The most important reason why comics and cartoons are ideally suited
as teaching material is that they are intrinsically motivating.* In contrast to
textbooks, which only a few students will consider spending their spare time
with, comics are frequently read as a leisure-time activity (cf. Medienpda-
gogischer Forschungsverbund Sdwest 5, 6). Thus, their introduction in the aca-
demic context may remind the students of positive private experiences. This
claim may be further supported by the strong link that comics still bear to
children as a target audience. For instance, the Longman Dictionary of Con-
temporary English, which is aimed at an English-learning audience, denes a
comic or comic book as a magazine for children that tells a story using
comic strips (LDOCE s.v. comic). Even though this statement may be crit-
icized for its generality, the denition, which is simplied to meet its audi-
ences needs, underlines stereotypical ideas about comics, namely that they
are mainly read by children. While this may indeed be true of some comics,
such as the Bussi Br type, others, such as Pin Up, have a purely adult or
at least teenage target audience. Many sequential works of art, though, have
a fairly mixed readership. This is particularly true of humorous comics, such
as Asterix or the Calvin and Hobbes strips. As a fair share of those comics and
cartoons that are suitable as teaching material for linguistic purposes is read
by children and adults alike, the students presented with comic/cartoon mate-
rial may associate them with pleasant childhood experiences.
Comics and cartoons are now rmly situated on a level between high
and low culture but this was not always the case, as sequential art had a
really bad reputation only a few decades ago. For instance, the formerly com-
mon opinion that reading comics makes people stupid is reported in Welke
(8, 9), and Frhlich Kmpf and Ramseier print the letter of a teacher who
considers comics rubbish (6). In the meantime, comics have gained a high
degree of acceptance as an art form. This is evidenced by the fact that there
are now several festivals celebrating the so-called ninth art, such as the Fes-
tival International de la Bande Dessine dAngoulme and the biannual Comic
Salon in Erlangen, Germany. Moreover, the awarding of the Max und Moritz
Prize, Germanys most important comics award, is widely reported in the
national press. However, this newly gained public esteem seems to apply more
to adult than to childrens comics, and less so to cartoons. For these reasons,
one may claim that on a global level, comics and cartoons are still associated
*See Mller (2007, 33) for a discussion of the advantages of intrinsic motivation, such as remember-
ing the learned items longer.
with subversion, at least to a certain degree which makes them appear like
a kind of break from academic content, something less serious than the usual
teaching material, something that students can simply enjoy. In short, by
being mediators between young people and adults, between high and popu-
lar culture, comics and cartoons are ideally suited as an intrinsically motivat-
ing teaching material that can draw students attention to demanding linguistic
phenomena in a playful way.
FUNCTIONS OF COMICS AND CARTOONS

AS TEACHING MATERIAL
Apart from serving as intrinsically motivating items, comics and car-

toons can fulll several other didactic functions, some of which they share
with images. Among the various didactic functions of visual items reported
by Hawelka and Wendorff (138), the raising of attention is the rst one men-
tioned. Not surprisingly, cartoons are often used as the starting point for les-
sons in the school context. On the academic level, Alberternst recommends
using cartoons as a stylistic device in the introduction of academic lectures
or courses to raise attention and to make a transition to the main part of the
course session (87). The importance of attention-raising becomes clear when
one considers that information that is to be stored in long-term memory must
enter short-term memory rst and be processed there the requirement for
this being that attention is focused on it (cf. Mietzel 245).
Another function of comics and cartoons that is often chronologically
close to that of attention-seeking is their function of encouraging speech pro-
duction (cf. Reinfried 418). In other words, the situation depicted in the
comic/cartoon serves as a stimulus to verbal reaction by the students. This
function is of particular interest where students are inhibited by the presence
of a very large audience, so that a visual stimulus may serve as an encourage-
ment by offering a structure or a shared basis to build their own statements
on.
Other functions of comics and cartoons rely on their combination of
images and language. Thus, they situate utterances, that is, what particular
speakers say, in a context. This multimedial quality of comics and cartoons
is particularly useful in the teaching of pragmatics, the branch of linguistics
dealing with the meaning and effect of utterances and their conditions of use
in particular communicative situations (Herbst, Stoll and Westermayr 168).
Sequential art can be used to draw students attention to such aspects as nec-
essary extralinguistic world knowledge or situational constraints (cf. Bublitz
135).
Another very important argument in favor of the use of comics and car-
toons in an academic context lies in the fact that the combination of images
and language results in improved memorization (cf. Hawelka and Wendorff
140). This effect is reinforced by laughing: as new information is remembered
better when it is connected to emotions, preferably positive ones,* funny
comics and cartoons may contribute to the students learning process. How-
ever, comics and cartoons should not be made use of simply for their own
sake, but always with a particular didactic aim (cf. Hawelka and Wendorff
141). Furthermore, they should not be overused in teaching. They can only
conserve their intrinsically motivating force if they are used sparsely. Other-
wise, they will come to be viewed as standard teaching material, with all the
ensuing associations.
COMICS AND CARTOONS IN LINGUISTIC TEACHING
Comic strips and cartoons being very short, they are usually better suited
for use in class than the typically book-length comics but of course, there
are exceptions. For instance, McClouds metacomic Understanding Comics
(1993) was among the texts on the reading list for a semiotics course I once
taught. In his second chapter, The Vocabulary of Comics, McCloud dis-
cusses different types of signs. Even though he uses the terms symbol and
icon in this context, his denitions do not coincide with the more common
ones by Peirce (1955), which had been previously treated. In this context, a
comic fullled the function of a course text whose content was discussed in
class.
More commonly, though, I use cartoons or comic strips as illustrative
examples by showing a transparency or a PowerPoint slide that everyone in
the audience can look at simultaneously. As I have a preference for funny car-
toons or comic strips, the students typically react with amusement or even
laughter, so that I can ask what they nd amusing. Their description of the
funny aspect in the particular cartoon or comic strip then serves as a transi-
tion into a particular topic. I shall restrict myself to a single example here,
but it seems that there are comics and cartoons to illustrate all kinds of lin-
*Cf. http://arbeitsblaetter.stangl-taller.at/EMOTION/EmotionEntwicklung.shtml (13 August 2007).
This can be compared to the analysis of poems, where the wrong kind of teaching and forced interpre-
tation may eventually result in the pupils/students aversion to this art form (cf. Rojahn and Schnei-
der 29,30).
Thus, while Peirce defines iconicity as a signs representation of its object mainly by its similarity
(Peirce 105), McCloud uses the word icon to mean any image used to represent a person, place, thing
or idea (McCloud 27).
An illustration of phonemic difference in German (Camouage, Miller! Not warn-

ing clothes!) (Mike Marks, Untitled Cartoon. www.querbilder.de/comix/197/197.
html (13 August 2007). 2007, Mike Marks).
guistic phenomena.* One very common concept in phonetics and phonol-

ogy, which deal with speech sounds, is the phoneme. It is dened as the basic
unit of language that brings about a change in meaning and can be deter-
mined by a so-called minimal pair test: if two chains of sounds differ by a
single sound in the same position, and if these two chains of sounds corre-
spond to the form side of two words with different meanings, each of the two
distinctive sounds is a phoneme (cf. Gimson 44, 45).
A German cartoon by Mike Marks illustrates this phenomenon nicely.
The cartoon depicts a higher-ranking member of the army yelling Tarnklei-
dung, Mller! Nicht Warnkleidung! that is, Camouage, Miller! Not
warning clothes! at a naked subordinate, dressed only with a triangular
trafc sign announcing danger, white-and-orange tape around the neck and
a white-and-orange trafc cone as a hat. This combination of text and image
shows very clearly that the word-initial sounds /t/ in the German word tar-
nen and /v/ in the German word warnen make all the difference between
the verb to camouage and the verb to warn.
Cartoons need not necessarily serve merely to introduce a new topic. In
the lesson following the introduction of particular linguistic phenomena,
comic strips can also be used as stimuli for revision by asking which of the
concepts treated during the previous meeting can be applied to the scene
*Teaching English linguistics to German-speaking students, I mainly use English comics and cartoons,
but if a particularly good specimen is in German, I employ it nonetheless.
depicted in the cartoon. For example, Grice suggests that a cooperative prin-
ciple rules conversation between speakers (45, 46). He proposes several max-
ims that are typically followed in conversations, such as being relevant, making
ones contribution as informative as required and making it one that is true.
When these maxims are violated, the hearer can make different inferences.
There is a Calvin and Hobbes strip in which Calvin is sitting at the dinner
table, looking suspiciously at his food, and he asks, Whats this? His fathers
reply, Taste it. Youll love it, leaves him unsatised, and he pushes away his
plate, thinking, You know youll hate something when they wont tell you
what it is (Watterson 7). In this particular cartoon, Calvins father is violat-
ing the maxim of quantity because he is not making his contribution as
informative as required: he does not reveal what the food is, thereby attract-
ing his sons suspicion. Calvins experience tells him that in some cases, a
speaker who quietly and unostentatiously violates a maxim will be liable to
mislead (cf. Grice 49). The cartoon can thus be used to practice applying lin-
guistic theory and terminology to an everyday language statement about com-
munication.
Another way of integrating comics and cartoons into teaching is by using
them as the basis for exercises. In linguistics courses on translation, practical
exercises make a welcome change and allow for a more profound understand-
ing of the problems that can arise during translation. Compared with the
translation of texts, the translation of comic strips and cartoons involves the
additional challenge that the target language text needs to suit the pictures.
This can represent a real problem when the original text involves plays on
words. Gary Larson cartoons are particularly well-suited for this task. For
instance, the English word bad can mean evil as well as decayed, among
other things. In one of Larsons cartoons, both meanings are combined: we
can see an open fridge in which a bowl of potato salad is holding up a gun
and aiming at a bottle and a jug standing with their hands raised into the air.
The cartoons caption says: When potato salad goes bad (Larson 262). My
students rst attempt at translation was the German word bse, but this is
not entirely satisfactory, as it only renders the evil aspect. They quickly
noticed that the different facets of meaning of a word and its possible trans-
lation equivalents need to be checked against the extralinguistic pictorial con-
text. After realizing this, the students arrived at the ideal translation equivalent
schlecht, which can be used both in a moral sense and in the sense of
decayed. The notion of polysemy* and context-sensitivity of translation
equivalents can thus be illustrated very clearly with the help of comic art.
Another way in which comic strips and cartoons can be used is as dec-
*Polysemous words have more than one meaning (cf. Palmer 100).
orative elements.* Placed on handouts, they support the memorization of a

particular worksheet by providing a mnemonic anchor. Thus more visually
oriented students may remember years later that a particular exercise was on
a handout with a cartoon about oranges in the bottom right corner. This
mnemonic aid effect can be expected to be even stronger if the cartoons are
related to the topic of the worksheet, for example, when a text about global
English is decorated with a cartoon about the attitude of the English toward
their language, and when this phenomenon is addressed in class. Decorative
cartoons on examination papers may provide a moment of comic relief and
ease the examinees initial tension, and beyond the classroom, hung on the
notice-board outside a university teachers ofce with a few brief instructive
notes, they may make waiting time pass more quickly and efciently for stu-
dents attending ofce hours.
Last but not least, comics and cartoons can be used in the way pictures
have been traditionally used in primary schooling, namely as a reward. Some
comics and cartoons can even supply a link between a particular season or
holiday and linguistic content. Shortly before Christmas, the linguistics teacher
can show the students comics, comic strips or cartoons that are related to lin-
guistics as a kind of immaterial Christmas present, but also with the func-
tion of revision. Thus, a cartoon in which a character complains to his
note-taking secretary, If I say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or Seasons
Greetings, Im going to offend someone. Just say, Bah Humbug! (Randy Glas-
bergen, www.glasbergen.com/images/cmas2.gif ) can round off the discussion
of political correctness in a sociolinguistics course right before the holidays.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
Comics and cartoons are intrinsically motivating. Students enjoy their

usage in class. In addition, they are useful as exemplications and can serve
as mnemonic aids. I have suggested a variety of ways in which comic art can
be integrated in the academic teaching of linguistics and can encourage all
linguists whose style is compatible with comics and cartoons to use them in
their academic teaching every once in a while.
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Bublitz, Wolfram. Englische Pragmatik. Eine Einfhrung. Berlin: Erich Schmidt, 2001.
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About the Contributors
Mark Berninger teaches in the English Department at Johannes GutenbergUniver-

sitt Mainz. His Ph.D. dissertation became a book, Neue Formen des Geschichtsdra-
mas in Grobritannien und Irland seit 1970 (New Forms of History Play in Great Britain
and Ireland Since 1970). He is currently working on a new book on the impact of John
Milton on later writers with a special focus on present-day references to Paradise Lost.
Holger Briel received his M.A. in Germanic languages from the University of Michi-
gan, Ann Arbor, in 1985, and his Ph.D. in comparative literatures and cultural stud-
ies from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, in 1991. He has published widely
on subjects such as the pedagogy of cultural studies, media of mass communication,
and new media.
Georg Drennig graduated with an M.Phil. from the University of Vienna, after writ-
ing his diploma thesis on American Anxieties About Urbanity and the Batman Narra-
tives. He works as an English teacher in a middle school project for adolescent
immigrants, teaches at the Department of Communications Science at the Univer-
sity of Vienna, and is currently working on a dissertation titled The Globalization
of the Local: Icons of Place in Time of the Pacic North-West in the 1990s.
Jochen Ecke studied English, French and lm at Johannes GutenbergUniversitt
Mainz, and graduated with a masters thesis on concepts of time and place in the later
works of Alan Moore. In addition to his studies, he has directed a number of short
lms and commercials and has served as German translator for numerous comic
books works by Greg Rucka, Rod Espinosa and Ted Naifeh, among others.
Jonas Engelmann studied comparative literature, philosophy and politics in Mainz.
His M.A. thesis dealt with Auschwitz in the Works of Paul Auster and Hubert Fichte.
He is currently working on a Ph.D. dissertation about Perspectives of Graphic Nar-
ration The Aesthetics of Contemporary Independent-Comics, which is supported
by a scholarship of the Hans Bckler Stiftung. He has published numerous articles
on literature, comic and lm and is editor of the popular culture magazine testcard.
Paul Ferstl is a lecturer in comparative literature at the University of Vienna. He stud-
ied comparative literature and German at the University of Vienna and the Univer-
sit Libre de Bruxelles, worked as a research assistant and is currently writing a Ph.D.
283
284 ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
dissertation dealing with interactions between literature and comics. His other research
interests include the historical novel and the history of literary censorship in Austria.
Mario Gomes received his Ph.D. in cultural and literary studies at the universities
of Bonn and Florence, Italy, in 2006 for a dissertation titled Mind-Reading: A Poe-
tological Model for the Interior Monologue. He is co-author of the experimental
comic/design project Mafa Dialogues, together with the Italian designers Marco
Ugolini and Alberto Vallesi (Florence, Italy).
Gideon Haberkorn graduated from Mainz University in 2004, and is now pursuing
a Ph.D. in British studies, focusing on fantasy literature and the narrative construc-
tion of reality. He has also done work on childrens literature and puppet theater, and
he is a member of the International Association for the Fantastic in the Arts. He is
completing his practical teachers training, and makes frequent use of Bill Watter-
sons Calvin and Hobbes cartoons in both his Philosophy and English classes.
Michel Hardy-Valle recently completed an M.A. thesis in English at McGill Uni-
versity on graphic novels: Where Do the Pictures Fit in the Overall Picture? Graphic
Novels as Literature. Founder of the bilingual Hotel Critical Review/Revue Critique
multidisciplinary journal, he lives and works in Montreal, Quebec. A writer and pho-
tographer, his other research interests include bandes dessine in Qubec, photogra-
phy, aesthetics, cognitive science, and philosophy of art.
Dan A. Hassler-Forest received his M.A. degree in lm and television studies in 1999
from the University of Amsterdam, where he has been teaching since 2004. His aca-
demic work ranges from workgroups on genre to lectures for perspectives on games.
Since 2005, he has also been teaching rst-year lectures and seminars in the English
literature department.
Anne Hoyer studied English and German at Humboldt-University of Berlin. She has
also pursued Celtic studies in Berlin as well as English literature at Queens Univer-
sity of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Her Ph.D. dissertation is The Scottishness of Oor
Wullie (Ruprecht KarlsUniversity of Heidelberg). She is currently working as a lec-
turer in linguistics at the University of Marburg. Anne Hoyer has published on the
Scottish comic Oor Wullie. Current projects involve culturally specic aspects of the
German comic Karl as well as Scottish names in Oor Wullie.
Karin Kukkonen completed her studies with a masters thesis on Alan Moores Watch-
men and now has embarked on a dissertation project on Bill Willinghams comic series
Fables. She lives in Finland and Germany and teaches at the University of Mainz.
Ben Little is an associate lecturer in the media department at Middlesex University,
where he is also completing his Ph.D. dissertation on Anglo-American comic books
and the politics of the 1980s, Politics in Pictures: The Inuence of the British Inva-
sion on American Comics. When someone originally suggested that he should try
writing something on comic books and semiotics, little did he suspect that comics
would take over the next ve years of his life.
Paul M. Malone is an associate professor of German in the Department of Germanic
and Slavic Studies at the University of Waterloo, Canada. He is the author of Franz
Kaf kas The Trial: Four Stage Adaptations (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2003), and has also
About the Contributors 285
published on German drama, lm, theater/performance theory, and virtual reality

computer technology.
Suchitra Mathur teaches English language and literature at the Indian Institute of
Technology, Kanpur, India. Postcolonial and feminist theories provide the theoreti-
cal framework for her teaching as well as her research, both of which have recently
expanded to include Indian popular culture as represented by detective ction, comic
books, and Bollywood cinema.
Anja Mller-Wood is a professor of English literature and Anglophone cultures at
Johannes GutenbergUniversitt Mainz (Germany). Her elds of research are early
modern English culture and literature and 20th-century and contemporary Anglo-
phone literatures. Her new monograph The Theatre of Civilized Excess: New Perspec-
tives on Jacobean Tragedy was published last year by Rodopi, and she is currently
working on a book about 20th-century and contemporary Anglophone confessional
ction from a biocultural perspective.
Meral znar is a lecturer in lm studies in the Faculty of Fine Arts at Canakkale
18 Mart University, Turkey. She is also a director of documentary lms and a screen-
play writer. Her research interests include philosophy and psychoanalysis with a spe-
cial focus on theories of national identity, discourse, and narration. In addition, she
works on a documentary lm project about comics in the context of these elds.
Jan Peuckert studied management studies at Humboldt University, Berlin, between
1999 and 2005, and participated in an Erasmus student exchange to ISCTE, Lisbon,
in 2001/ 2002. In 2001, he collaborated with Mario Gomes on the comic strip Na
Boca do Peixe, published in Os Fazedores de Letras, Lisbon. He has been a research fel-
low in the Faculty of Economics and Management, Institute of Technology and Man-
agement, and chair of Innovation Economics of the University of Technology, Berlin
(TU), since 2006.
Andreas Rauscher is an assistant lecturer in the Department for Film Studies at the
Johannes GutenbergUniversity of Mainz. His Ph.D. dissertation dealt with The
Star Trek Phenomenon, and as author and co-editor he has published books on the
Simpsons, the James Bond series, and superhero lms. He has written numerous arti-
cles on lm and media studies and is currently working on a postdoctoral research
project on the interdisciplinary perspectives of video game studies.
Christina Sanchez is currently working at the University of Augsburg, Germany.
Before that, she studied English and French at the universities of Erlangen-Nurem-
berg, Reading, and Rennes. Her doctoral dissertation, which dealt with the consoci-
ation and dissociation of the English and German vocabulary, was supported by a
scholarship from the German Studienstiftung des deutschen Volkes. She has been
working as a freelance author for several years for dictionary publisher Longman/Lan-
genscheidt and has also published widely in the eld of language learning.
Sandra Martina Schwab teaches English literature at Johannes GutenbergUniver-
sity, Mainz, where she is currently working on her Ph.D. dissertation on dragon slay-
ing and gender roles. Her research interests include folk literature, popular literature,
in particular fantasy and romance, as well as life and society in early 19th-century
286 ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
Britain. Among her recent publications are contributions to The Greenwood Encyclo-
pedia of Science Fiction and Fantasy and to The Encyclopedia of Popular Fiction, forth-
coming from Facts on File.
Dirk Vanderbeke, who has taught at the University of WisconsinMilwaukee, the
University of Frankfurt/Main, Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania, and at
the University of Greifswald, holds a doctorate in English Literature from the Uni-
versity of Frankfurt/Main and is now chair of English literature at the University of
Jena. His doctoral dissertation, Worber man nicht sprechen kann (Whereof One
Cannot Speak), dealt with aspects of the unrepresentable in philosophy, science and
literature. His postdoctoral research projects included a study on Theoretische Wel-
ten und literrische Transformationen (Theoretical Worlds and Literary Transfor-
mations), which examines the recent debate about science and literature and sciences
role(s) in contemporary literature. He has also published on a variety of topics, for
example, Joyce, Pynchon, science ction, self-similarity and vampires.
Dinah Zank was born in 1980 in Ludwigshafen/Rhein, Germany. She is pursuing a
masters degree in Japanese studies and East Asian art history at Ruprecht KarlsUni-
versity in Heidelberg. Her research interests range from the aesthetics of Japanese
girls comics and contemporary Japanese art to the narrative court paintings of the
Muromachi period. She is currently working as a guest curator and scientic researcher
at German Film Museum and Museum fr Angewandte Kunst in Frankfurt am Main,
where she has co-organized the exhibition Anime! High Art Pop Culture.
Index
bout de soufe (lm) 271 LAscension du haut mal 4749, 51 54,

la rechercher du temps perdu 62, 64 57
lombre des jeunes lles en eurs 64 Aslan, Mehmet 171
ABC Warriors 147 Asterix 102, 224226, 238, 275
Abu Ghraib 77 Astro Boy 189, 191, 226
Action (magazine) 143147, 150 Atatrk, Mustafa Kemal 167
Adaptation 3, 8, 2326, 3032, 6063, Authenticity 46, 56, 58, 73, 80, 228, 231,
6668, 171, 184, 255, 265, 266, 267 232
Adorno, Theodor 34 Autobiography 4547, 51, 55, 56, 58, 91,
Advancer Tina 203 92
The Airtight Garage 258 Azzarello, Brian 135, 136
Akira 191, 202, 225, 228
Alberti, Leon Battista 196, 197, 199 B, David 4658, 258
Album format 90, 92 Babel 51
Alices Adventures in Wonderland 129, 130, Babylon 5 22
216 Bacchus 105
Alien from the Darkness 203 Bachchan, Amitabh 177, 178
Alienation 76 Bahadur (character) 176178
Alienation effect 65 Bakhtin, Mikhail 155, 158
Allegory 28, 39, 146 Ballad 71, 72
Allen, Woody 263 The Ballad of Halo Jones 141, 145, 147, 148
Ally Sloper 238 Bana, Eric 30, 269
Amar Chitra Katha 176, 177, 182 Banzai! 227, 229, 251
The Amazing Spider-Man (comics serial) Barefoot Gen 45, 225
22, 266 Barnes, Peter 262
Americanization 178, 179, 188, 250 Barthes, Roland 120, 123, 154, 200
Angoulme 275 Batman (character) 21, 37, 38, 41- 43,
Angus g 113 127, 157, 181, 265, 272
Angry Tessie 166 Batman (comics serial) 18, 129132, 135,
Animal Scroll 189 137
Anime 191, 198, 199, 201 203, 226 Batman (lm) 25, 36, 266
Anthropology 240 Batman & Robin (lm) 36, 131, 132
Anti-hero 25, 127138 Batman Begins (lm) 31, 3442, 265
Anti-semitism 63 Batman Forever (lm) 36
Apitz and Kunkel 99107 Batman Returns (lm) 25, 266
Appadurai, Arjun 232 Batman: The Killing Joke 35
Arkham Asylum 130 Batman: Year One 3537
Arkn, Cuneyt 171 Battle (magazine) 147
287
288 INDEX
Battle Angel Alita 226 Brsel 225

Battle of the Thermopylae 15, 16 Brought to Light 74
Battle Royale 207 Brown, Chester 90, 91
Battleship Potmkin (lm) 124 Brueghel the Elder, Pieter 70
Baudelaire, Charles Pierre 87 Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau 105
Bava, Mario 1316 Buckingham, Mark 151
Bayetin 165 Buddha 38, 198
Bayeux Tapestry 70 Buffy the Vampire Slayer 22
Baytekin 164166 Burak, Sezgin 171
The Beano 108, 113 Burikko 216
The Beatles 141 Burns, Robert 110
Beatty, Warren 267 Burst Angel 227
Beck 227 Burton, Tim 24, 36, 266
Becker, Boris 100 Busch, Wilhelm 70, 89, 223
Bell, Allan 112 Buschov, Lenka 230, 231
Belting, Hans 194 Bush, George W. 35, 43, 74
Benjamin, Walter 52, 53 Bussi Br 275
Berger, John 208
Bergman, Ingmar 263 Calvin and Hobbes 275, 279
Berry, Halle 28 Camera angle 24, 170, 221, 271
Berserk 227 Camp 25, 31, 36
Besson, Luc 207 Campbell, Eddie 141
Beyblade 227 Canon 251, 256
Bhabha, Homi 181 Captain America 23
Bilal, Enki 31, 205, 256, 272 Captain America (character) 33, 154,
Biography 72 163
The Birds (lm) 267 Caravaggio, Michelangelo Merisi da 105
The Black Beach 229 Card Captor Sakura 218, 220, 226
Blade (lm) 26, 36 Caricature 10, 102, 238
The Blair Witch Project (lm) 73 Carlsen Verlag 223234
Blankets 45, 256 Carrie (1976) 27
Bleach 227 Carrol, Lewis 129, 130, 216
Bleed 121 Cartoon 10, 26, 28, 33, 75, 76, 79, 135,
Blockbuster 25, 28, 30, 35, 36, 73, 265 176, 178, 191, 206, 274, 276, 277, 278,
Bloody Circus 228 280
Bloom, Harold 35 Cats Cradle 131
La Blue Girl 203 Catwalk 230, 231
Bolland, Brian 35, 142 Censorship 143, 145, 165, 167, 198, 201
Bombaby 181 182 204, 215, 224
Bond, James (character) 105, 154, 156 Cervantes 197
Bone 240 CGI 2325, 31, 265, 267
Das Boot 102 Chahine, Youssef 34
Bordwell, David 266 La Charit de Giotto 64
Borg, Bjrn 100 Charleys War 147
Bovary, Emma (character) 64 Chasing Amy 22
Bowman, Rob 25, 31 Le Cheval blme 51
Brando, Marlon 105 Chobits 219
Branson, Richard 175 Choudhry, Chacha 176
Brassens, Georges 92, 93 Christian Solar Verlag 229
Brecht, Bertold 124 Churchill, Sir Winston 67
Brentano, Clemens 104, 106 City of Glass (graphic novel) 61, 65
British Invasion 92, 140, 153, 159 Civil War 26
Broadside 7072 CLAMP 218, 219
The Broons 109, 110, 112 Claremont, Chris 21, 28, 29
Index 289
Classicism 238 Davidson, Peter 109

Classics Illustrated 6063, 68 DC Comics 21, 22, 90, 142, 227
Clerks 22 DC Thompson 108, 109
Close reading 260 Dead Poets Society (lm) 263
Close-up 19, 94 DearS 227
Clowes, Daniel 90 Death Note 207, 227
Couk sesi 166 Death Proof (lm) 202
Cognitive strategies 247 DeFalco, Tom 143
Colossus (character) 26 Defamiliarization effect 241
Comic Party 227 Denition for comics 242
Comic Salon Erlangen 275 Delisle, Guy 90
Comics Code 140, 142, 190 Del Toro, Guillermo 24
Comics in education 245 Derrick (character) 105
Comics literacy 235, 248 Derrida, Jacques 121
Comics studies 235 Detective Comics 130
Coming-of-age 27 Devi (character) 175
Coming-out 28 Dialogue 2, 15, 55, 62, 64, 66, 173
Conan Doyle, Arthur 104 Diamond Comics 176
Connelly, Jennifer 30, 269 Dick, Philip Kindred 146
Connery, Sean 105 Dick Tracy 267
Consumerism 179, 184 Dickens, Charles 62, 63
Content 242 Diderot, Denis 123
Continuity editing 268, 272 Diegesis 122
Convention 88 Dillon, Steve 142
Cool Devices 220, 221 Discourse 242
Cotrim, Joo Paulo 118126 Disease 47, 51, 53, 5557
Counter-culture 190, 216 Disney 60, 74, 192, 224
Cowboy Bebop 226 Ditko, Steve 21
Cox, Brian 27 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 30, 266
Crawford, Robert 113 Dr. Slump 226
Crewman 3 229 Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop
Crime and Punishment 61 Worrying and Love the Bomb 131
Croc 90 Dogma 73
Cromartie High School 227 Doillon, Jacques 207
The Crucible 28 Djinshi 188, 215, 228, 229
Cruikshank, George 63 Donaldson, Dave 110
Crumb, Robert 53, 142, 190, 225 Donner, Richard 25, 26, 36, 266
Cultural Studies 240 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor 61
Cyberpunk 199 Doucet, Julie 46, 5258, 90
Cyclops (character) 26 Dragic Master 229
Dragon Ball 226, 228
Dada 53, 199 Drawn+Quarterly 90
Dafoe, Willem 23 Du ct de chez Swann 64
Daisuki 227, 251 Dubliners 87
The Dandy 108 Dunst, Kirsten 24
Danger: Diabolik 13, 14 Dnyay Kurtaran Adam 171
Danse Macabre 70 DuO 230
Dare, Dan (character) 145 Dyptich 124
Daredevil 22 Dystopia 79, 80
The Dark Knight Returns 22, 29, 35, 36, Dystopia: Love at Last Sight 230
151, 153, 157, 163, 268
Darkman (lm) 24 E-Manga 228
David 105 Eagle (magazine) 142, 145
Davidson, Bruce 27 Eastwood, Clint 27
290 INDEX
Eco, Umberto 57, 58, 105, 172, 238, 242 Flusser, Vilm 2, 199, 200
Editing 30, 41 Flying Robert (character) see Struwwel-
Education 60, 63, 72 peter
Egmont Ehapa 223234 Ford, Harrison 105
Egmont Manga & Anime 223234 Foreign language training 249
Eightball 90 Formal devices 94
1812 Overture 42 Formalism 86
Eisenhower, Gen. Dwight D. 67 Foster, Harold 89
Eisenstein, Sergei 124 Foucault, Michel 49, 50, 204
Eisner, Will 11, 20, 45, 62, 63, 68, 122 Fournier, Pierre 90
Elektra (lm) 31 Fragmentation 49, 76
Elektra complex 213 Frame narrative 65, 66
Elizabethan drama 253, 254, 255, 262 Franco, James 24
Elliott, Sam 30 Franco-Belgian school 188, 200
Ellis, Warren 142, 151, 153, 156161 The Frank Book 258
Empowerment 185 Frankenheimer, John 270
Enlightenment 192 Frankenstein (character) 266
Ennis, Garth 132, 135, 137, 142 Frankenstein (lm) 22
Die Entdeckung der Currywurst 62, 65, Frankfurt School 34
66, 68 Franquin 91
Epilepsy 46, 47, 50, 51, 5356, 58 Freaky Angel 230, 231
Epileptic 258 Free indirect speech 66, 67
Escapism 168, 217, 222, 246 Freeze frame 272
Ethnicity 128, 130, 131, 233 Freud, Sigmund 18, 212, 214
Europeanness 128 From Hell 12
The Evil Dead (lm) 24 Fruits Basket 226
Expression 242 Fry, Stephen 41
Frye, Northrop 238
Fables 151, 238 The Fugitive (TV series) 30
Fado 116, 120 Full Metal Panic 227
Fagin the Jew 62, 63 Fumetti 7, 13
Fahrenheit 451 80 Fundamentalism 179
Fandom 188, 227 Fushigi Yugi 226
The Fantastic Four (lm series) 21, 23, 30, Fuzokuga paintings 198
31, 265
Faust II 61 Gaiman, Neil 142, 153, 154, 253, 254,
Faustian pact 32 255, 257, 258, 259
Fawkes, Guy 42 Gasoline Alley 45
Feest Verlag 226 Gaze 79
Feiffer, Jules 61, 62 Gemma Bovery 62, 64
Fell 151 Gender 55, 145, 220221, 230
Fellini, Federico 7, 8, 20 Genshiken 207
Feminism 55, 191 Ghandi, Indira 183
Fernandes, Jos Carlos 118 Ghandi, Rajiv 179
Fforde, Jasper 263 Ghost in the Shell 226
Firey 22 Ghost Rider (2007) 31
Fist of the North Star 227 GI Joe 38
Fix und Foxi 224, 226 Gibbons, Dave 35, 141, 151, 268
The Fixer 76, 78 Gibson, Ian 141, 142, 145, 147149
The Flash (character) 21 Gibson, William 146
Flash Gordon 164, 165 The Giddy Limit 113
Flashback 19 Giotto 199
Flaubert, Gustave 64 Girl (magazine) 142
Fluide Glacial 191 Girl power 217
Index 291
Global 185, 195, 207, 208 Hinduism 180

Globalization 176, 179, 184, 185, 195, 207, Hippocrates 50
208, 250 Historiography 71
Glocal 185 Hitch, Bryan 151
God Loves, Man Kills 28, 29 Hitchcock, Alfred 7, 267
Godard, Jean-Luc 271 Hoffman, Michael 263
Godbout, Ral 90 Hoffmann, Heinrich 104
The Godfather (lm) 105 Hogarth, William 70
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 61, 103 Hokusai, Katsushika 203
Golden Age 151, 266 Holler, F. James 246
Gombrich, Sir Ernst 10 Holmes, Sherlock (character) 104
Good, Edmond 89 Holocaust 7374
Goscinny, Ren 224 Homosexuality 28, 188, 205, 230
Gotham Comics 175, 184 Horrocks, Dylan 90
Gothic Sports 230, 231 Horror 27
Gotlib, Marcel 95, 191 The Hulk (character) 21, 23, 154, 269
Grand Prix 270 The Hulk (lm) 13, 17, 19, 24, 30, 266,
Grant, Alan 141, 146 267, 268, 270, 271
Graphic novel 1, 22, 90, 92, 95, 137 Hulton Press 142
Gravitation 226 Huxley, Aldous 146
Great Teacher Onizuka 226 Hybridity 199, 250
Green Arrow 22
Grimm, Jacob 216 Iceman (character) 2729
Grimm, Wilhelm 216 Ichigo 100% 227
Grindhouse (2007) 202 Icon 277
Groensteen, Thierry 11, 12, 15, 17, 20, 189, Iconic turn 199
205, 238, 239 Iconography 183, 195, 198, 221
Ground Zero 33 Identity 46, 111, 112, 117, 133, 147, 164,
Guevara, Che 225 167, 172, 182, 183, 185
Gundam 226 Ideology 164, 165, 167171, 182, 224
Gupta, Sanjay 180 Illustration 57, 63, 64, 68
Gutenberg, Johannes 196 Imdahl, Max 193
Gutters 122, 241, 271 Immortal (lm) 31, 272
Imperialism 169
Hage, Annika 230, 231 In the Shadow of No Towers 74, 75
Hanuman 175 The Incredible Hulk (lm) 31
Hara-Kiri 90 Independent comics 45
Harrison, Ken H. 109 India 175186
Head, Sir Francis Bond 105 Indiana Jones (character) 105
Heavy Metal (magazine) 140 Indrajal Comics 176
Heidegger, Martin 208 Injukyoshi 203
Heidi (anime) 106 Inoue, Yasushi 207
Heine, Heinrich 104, 106 Interdisciplinary education 249
Heinrichs, Rick 19 Intermediality 255
Hellblazer 128, 135, 238 Intertextuality 189, 254
Hellboy (lm) 24, 31 Inu Yasha 226, 229
Hello Kitty 211 Iraq War 43
Hellsing 227 Irishness 130, 131
Hentai 205 Irony 67, 217
Herg 91, 224 Iscel 230, 231
Hermeneutics 240 Ishinomori, Shtar 225
Herzog, Felix 246 Iwamoto, Yoshiharu 213
Heuet, Stphane 6264 Iwamoto-Seebeck, Junko 228
Hilton, Paris 22, 159
292 INDEX
Jackie Brown 270 Kreitz, Isabel 62, 6568

Jackman, Hugh 26, 28 Krrish 175, 184
Janssen, Famke 27, 28 Kubrick, Stanley 131, 132
Jaxon 142 Kunkel, Eberhard 99107
Jibun-Jishin 230 Kunkel, Patrick 99107
Jimmy Corrigan 258 Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner tech-
Jimmy das Gummipferd 224 nischen Reproduzierbarkeit 53
Jgaku zasshi 213 Kuper, Peter 62, 65
Johnson, Mark Steven 31 Kurtzman, Harvey 95
Josetu 198
Journalism 3, 7076, 79, 80 Labs, Robert 229, 231, 232
Jubilee 262 Lacan, Jacques 193, 197, 208
Judge Dredd (lm) 25 Language learning 249
Jump cuts 271 Laocon 9, 124, 238
Jung, Carl Gustav 212214 Lee, Ang 13, 17, 30, 31, 266, 267, 268,
The Justice League 21 269, 270, 271, 272
Juxtaposition 121 Lee, Spike 33
Lee, Stan 21, 22, 31
Kabuki 240 LeGuin, Ursula 146
Kafka, Franz 62, 65 Leonard, Tom 113
Kakalios, James 246 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 9, 10, 20, 124
Kakuyu 189 Lester, Richard 25, 266
Kaps, Joachim 227 Lve ta jambe mon poisson est mort 55
Kapoor, Anil 178 Lewis, Albert Kanter 60
Kapur, Shekar 177 Lichberg, Heinz von 212
Kara Murat 168171 Lichtenstein, Roy 256
Karaoglan 168, 170172 Lieber, Steve 18
Karasik, Paul 62, 65 The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy
Karl (comics series) 100107 62, 65
Kauka, Rolf 224 Linguistics 239, 278
Kawaii 211, 212, 215 Literacy 88
Kawaii-kei 215, 217219, 221, 222 Literariness 86, 88
Kelman, James 113 Livewire Graphics 60
KERA Magazine 216 Lloyd, David 7, 40, 145
Khalistan movement 183 Local 189, 194, 207, 208, 232
Kickback 7, 8 Lolita (concept) 211 222
Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2 (2003/2004) 202 Lolita (novel) 212, 213
Kindchenschema 111 Lolita complex 212214
King, Frank 45 Lone Wolf and Cub 227
King, Martin Luther 27 Lord Haw Haw 143
King, Stephen 27 Lords and Ladies 263
King of the Bandit Jing 227 Lorenz, Konrad 111
Kingdom Come 159, 161, 163, 238 Love Hina 226
Kinova 168 Low, Robert Duncan 109
Kirby, Jack 162 Lustige Taschenbcher 191
Kitsch 250 Lutes, Jason 90
Das Kleine Arschloch 225
Kline, Kevin 263 Mad Magazine 90
Koge, Donbo 221 The Madame Paul Affair 55
Kohlsaat, Roland 224 Madness 50
Komiketto convention 215 Magneto (character) 2729
Kominsky, Aline 191 Maguire, Tobey 23, 24
Kommissar Rex 105 Mainstream 36, 45, 192, 266, 271
Krazy Kat 95 Maison Ikkoku 226
Index 293
Malcolm X 27 A Midsummer Nights Dream 253264

Malkooglu 168, 170, 171 Midsummer Nights Sex Comedy 263
Manara, Milo 205 Mignola, Mike 31
Mandrake 176 Millais, Sir John Everett 213, 214
Manga 140, 187210, 211 234, 240, 246, Millar, Mark 151
251, 256 Miller, Arthur 28
Manga Fieber 228 Miller, Frank 13, 15, 16, 22, 25, 29, 31,
Manga Power 227 35, 37, 140, 151, 153, 241, 265, 268,
Manga-Talente 228 272
Manga Twister 227 Mills, Pat 143, 146, 147
Mangascape 232 Mimesis 126
MangasZene 228 Mind map 257
Marks, Mike 278 Minimal pair 278
Marlowe, Christopher 259 Mirror Mask (2005) 272
Marnie 7 Mise-en-page 12, 15, 1719
Marsden, James 26 Mise-en-scne 15, 18, 24, 30
Maruyama, Eri 233 Mr. India 177, 178
Marvel Comics 21 26, 30, 31, 90, 143, Mitsukazu, Mihahara 216
157, 191, 200, 225227, 266 Moe 218220
Marvel UK 142 Moebius 205, 238, 256, 258
Marx, Sascha Nils 229, 231 Mon-Star Attack 230
Masareel, Frans 70 Montgomery, Field Marshal Bernard 67
Masculinity 134 Moore, Alan 12, 13, 19, 25, 35, 40, 74,
Master narrative 46 141 143, 145, 147149, 151, 153157,
Mathieu, Marc-Antoine 79 205, 241, 268, 272
Matsuda, Seiko 215 Moore, Roger 105
Matt, Joe 91 Morris, Marcus 142
Matte paintings 23 Morrison, Grant 130, 142, 153, 160, 161,
Maus 74, 86, 246, 256 162
Max and Moritz 223 Morton, Tom 110
Max und Moritz Prize 275 Mother Courage 124
Mazzuchelli, David 62, 65 Moulin Rouge La Goulue 105
McCarthy, Joseph 27, 143 Movie novel 165
McCloud, Scott 7079, 121, 201, 250, Mutant 2730
257, 266, 270, 277 My New York Diary 5257
McDonald, Bruce 270 Mythology 180183, 199, 238
McDonaldization 176
McDuck, Scrooge (character) 106 Nabokov, Vladimir 212214, 221
McKean, Dave 31, 130, 142, 272 NACAE 245, 262
McKellen, Sir Ian 27, 28 Nadesico 227
McManus, Steve 144 Naglayas Herz 229
McTeigue, James 34 Nagraj (character) 175186
McTickles 113 Nakazawa, Keiji 45, 225
Media literacy 247, 248 The Name of the Rose 105
Memory 51, 52, 54, 75 Narration 9, 10, 12, 16, 46, 47, 51, 62, 65,
Meng and Ecker 143 66, 77, 78
Merleau-Ponty, Maurice 192194, 208 Narrative 2, 8, 10, 17, 22, 3437, 39, 58,
Metadrama 255, 259, 261 61, 62, 64, 65, 70, 7476, 80, 119, 168,
Metaction 103, 104, 262 170173, 176, 190, 242, 246, 254, 259
Metapanel 122 Narratology 239, 242, 255
Metaphor 14, 41, 49, 6466, 7476 Naruto 226
Metonymy 49, 56 Nast, Thomas 129
Michelangelo 105 National Lampoon 90
Mickey Mouse (comics serial) 226, 256 National socialism 223, 224
294 INDEX
Nationalism 165, 167169, 172, 173, 176, Paper cinema 165

179, 181 185 Paquin, Anna 27
Neill, Vic 113 Paradise Kiss 227
Nemesis the Warlock 147 Paratext 63, 65
Neon Genesis Evangelion 226 Park, Judith 230233
New Journalism 73, 74, 78 Parody 103, 104, 150, 220, 221, 230
New media literacy 251, 255 La Pastque 90
New Treasure Island 189 Pastiche 150
Nextwave 157161 Patriarchy 173
Nguyen, Nam 233 Paul la campagne 90
Das Nibelungenlied 104 Paul Has a Summer Job? 92, 93
Nick Knatterton 224 Paul in the Mtro 91
Nietzsche, Friedrich 156 Paul Moves Out 94, 96, 97
Nightcrawler (character) 26, 29 Peace Maker Kurogane 227
A Nightmare on Elm Street (lm) 27 Pearl Harbor 33
Nihon Keizai Nymon 225 Pedophilia 214
9/11 (event) 3, 3335, 3739, 43, 7475, Peeters, Frederik 47
159, 161 Peirce, Charles Sanders 277
091101 September 11 (lm) 3334 Pekos Bill 167, 168
Ninja 38 Penthouse 191
Nolan, Christopher 31, 34, 265 Perfect Girl 217
Nolte, Nick 30 Persepolis 45
Nonction 45 Perspective 221
Noomin, Diane 191 Pfeiffer, Michelle 263
Norrington, Stephen 26 The Phantom 176
The Phantom (character) 179
Objectivity 76 Phoneme 278
Oda, Eiichiro 229 Phonetics 278
Oh! My Goddess 226 Phonologoy 278
Oldman, Gary 41 Photography 72, 73, 75, 76, 80, 199, 215,
Oliver Twist 62, 63 243
Omniscient narrator 269 Physiognomy 127, 129
One Piece 226, 229 Pictorial quotation 104
ONeill, Kevin 142 Pin Up 275
Oor Wullie 108115 Pilules bleues 47
Optic Nerve 90 PIP International 191
Orcus Star 230, 231 Pita Ten 221
Orientalism 181, 188 Plaka, Christina 230
Orwell, George 146 Planet Manga 227
Otaku culture 215, 222 Planetary 153, 156158
The Other 37, 38, 131 133, 137, 173, 188, Play-within-the-play 255, 259
193, 199, 200 Plot device 181
Othering 37, 137 Plot structure 221
Otherness 27, 127, 128, 132, 133, 135137, Point of view 19, 30, 62, 76
190 Pokmon 226
Otomo, Katsuhiro 191, 202, 225 Pollyanna 165
Ozu, Yasujiro 207 Polyphony 155, 163
Polysemy 279
Packard, Stephan 124, 240 Pop art 36, 214
Pai, Anant 176 Popular culture 22, 27, 28, 34, 35, 40,
Palestine 76, 77, 258 168, 173, 177, 181, 185, 251
Palimpsest 194 Pornography 204, 205, 212, 215, 220
Panini Verlag 226234 Post-feminism 216
Panofsky, Erwin 195 Postmodernism 46, 73, 158, 199, 208, 254
Index 295
Pragmatics 276 Rosie, George 108

Pratchett, Terry 106, 263 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel 214
Preacher 128, 132, 134137 Rowohlt Verlag 225
Pre-Raphaelites 213 Rowson, Martin 62, 65, 68
Pre-reading activity 254, 255 Rubrique--brac 95
Prince Valiant (character) 89 Rush Hour (series) 29
Promethea 240 Russell, Bertrand 225
Propaganda 16, 33, 40, 172
Proust, Marcel 62, 64 Sabu 176
Prussian Blue 230 Saccades 1, 11
Psychology 237 Sacco, Joe 70, 7679, 90, 258
Psychosemiotics 240 Sadu (character) 175
Pulp Fiction (1994) 201 Safe Area Gorazde 76, 78
The Punisher (2004) 30 Saga of the Swamp Thing 142
Pyro 27, 29 Said, Edward 37
Sailor Moon 207, 226
Rabagliati, Michel 9094, 96, 97 Salazar, Antnio de Oliveira 116, 118, 120,
Rabelais, Franois 158 123
Racism 169 Salazar Now, in the Hour of His Death
Raimi, Sam 23, 24, 31, 265, 267, 270, 118, 120, 122126
272 The Sandman 153, 154, 253264
Raj Comics 175, 178 Satire 74
Ranma 1/2 226 Satrapi, Marjane 45
Ratner, Brett 22, 25, 29 Savoy 143
Rea, Stephen 41 Schamus, Gareb 18
Reader response criticism 240 Der Schimmelreiter 104
Reagan, Ronald 141, 150 Schmidt, Manfred 224
Real Bout Highschool 227 Schodt, Frederic 201
Realism 13, 54, 66, 73, 74, 76 School Rumble 227
Red Dragon (lm) 29 Schumacher, Joel 25, 36
The Red Mask 168 Schwarzenegger, Arnold 132
Red Rider (character) 89 Scott, Sir Walter 112, 262
Reformation 196 Secret identity 177179
Remember Pearl Harbor (lm) 33 Seebeck, Jrgen 228, 231
Renaissance 196 The Seduction of the Innocent 246
Rentrop Verlag 225 Seleque, John P. 246
Revisionary superhero narrative 35 Self-reexivity 46
Rhetorics 239 Semiotics 238, 239, 277
Riefenstahl, Leni 156 Sequel 63, 122
Rising Stars of Manga 228 Sequence 121 122, 190
Rite of passage 38 Sgt. Frog 227
Rob Roy 112 Serial narrative 24, 188
Robin (magazine) 142 Sesame Street 106
Rocha, Miguel 118126 Seth 9091
Rococo 218 Sexuality 55, 198, 202204, 207, 246
Rodriguez, Robert 31, 265 Shahenshah 178
Rogue (character) 27, 29 Shakespeare, William 253264
Role models 230 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 155
Romanticism 213 Shelton, Gilbert 142, 190
Romita, John 21 Shinkan Special 228
Ronin 219 Shintoism 198, 203
Rorikon 211 222 Shklovsky, Viktor 241
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead Shjo bunka 214, 217
263 Shjo kurabu 213
296 INDEX
Shjo manga 214, 215, 218, 220, 226, Stevenson, Robert Louis 189
227, 231, 251 Stewart, Patrick 27, 28
Shnen kurabu 214 Stone, Oliver 34, 43
Shnen manga 226, 227, 229, 251 Stoppard, Tom 263
Shuster, Joe 89, 156 Storm (character) 26
Siegel, Jerry 156 Storm, Theodor 104
Sienkiewicz, Bill 74 Story 242
Sign 238 Story, Tim 31, 265
Sigurd 224 Storyline 6263, 66
Silent Mbius 227 Straczynski, J. Michael 22
Silver Age 21, 36, 153, 266 Strangers in Paradise 238
Sim, Dave 240 Strauss, Johann 171
Simulacrum 232 Structuralist 86, 242
Simmonds, Posy 6264, 68 Der Struwwelpeter 104
A Simple Plan (1998) 24 Subculture 212, 216, 222, 227, 246
Simpson, Jessica 159 Subjectivity 46, 80
The Simpsons 227 Suicide, Richard 90
Sin City (lm) 22, 31, 265, 272 Super Gordon 166
Singer, Bryan 23, 24, 26, 28, 29, 31 Superhero 22, 26, 31, 3336, 38, 39, 42,
Singh, Fauladi 176, 177 43, 47, 90, 153163, 175186, 191, 192,
Situation comedy 24 240, 241, 250, 265, 270, 272
Slaine 147 Superman (character) 21, 28, 89, 151, 154,
Slapstick 24 179, 185
Slow-motion 270 Superman (comics serial) 176, 226, 256,
A Small Killing 12, 13, 19 266
Small press 240 Superman (lm series) 25, 26, 36, 266
Smith, Jeff 240 Supremo (character) 177
Smith, Kevin 22 The Surreal 47, 51, 57
Snyder, Zack 13, 1517 Surrealism 74, 199
Something Rotten 263 Surrealistic images 66
Sommarnattens Leende (1955) 263 Suspension of disbelief 242
Space 1213 Swift (magazine) 142
Spawn (1997) 25 Symbol 40, 47, 49, 54, 111, 119, 218, 277
Speed lines 66 Symbolism 213, 221
Speed Racer 191, 201 Synechdoche 93
Spider-Man (character) 21 26, 33, 153,
154, 176, 178, 179, 181, 184, 185 Takabatake, Kash 213
Spider-Man (lm series) 23, 24, 30, 31, Takahashi, Rumiko 229
36, 265, 267, 270, 272 Takemoto, Novala 216
Spider-Man: India 175, 184 Takeuchu, Naoko 226
Spiegelman, Art 53, 61, 7476, 246 Talbot, Bryan 142
The Spirit (2008) 31 Tales of Genji 216
Spirou 89, 92 Tankbon 219
Spitzweg, Carl 105 Tappert, Horst 105
Spleen 87 Tarantino, Quentin 201, 270
Split-screen technique 17, 18, 30, 267, Target audience 275
269, 270, 271 Tarkan 165, 168, 170, 171
Spyri, Johanna 106 Tarzan 238
Stallone, Sylvester 105 Tchaikovsky, Pyotr Ilich 42
Star Trek 27, 179 Television 22, 23, 30, 36, 40, 75, 184
Star Wars 171 The Tempest 259
Stephenson, Neal 146 Templesmith, Ben 151
Stereotype 63, 114, 127, 130132, 134, 135, Tenchi Muyo 226
137, 181, 275 Tenjo Tenge 227
Index 297
Tenniel, John 129 Utatane, Hiroyuki 220

Tentacle sex 202, 203, 205, 220 Uzay 166
Terrorism 3538, 4042, 162, 183
Tezuka, Osamu 189 V for Vendetta (lm) 31, 3436, 4041
Thatcher, Margaret 141, 144, 147, 149, 150 V for Vendetta (graphic novel) 40
Theme 87, 94 Valium, Henriette 90
The Thing (character) 154 Varley, Lynn 13, 15
36 Views of Mount Fuji 189 Velontrova, Luisa 233
Thompson, Craig 45 Vertigo 160
Thompson, Kristin 266 Vess, Charles 253258
300 13, 15, 19 Victorian age 216, 218, 259
Tijuana Bibles 70 Video games 23, 229
Time 2, 9, 119, 121 122, 126 Vimanarama 160
Timm, Uwe 62, 65 Violence 201, 207, 246
Tintin 89, 92, 111, 224, 238 Virgin Comics 175, 184
To the Heart of the Storm 45 Visual art(s) 9, 10, 23, 61, 169
Todorov, Tzvetan 242 Visuality 24, 3032, 46, 5355, 61, 63,
Tokyopop 219, 220, 227234 64, 71, 73, 75, 7780, 96, 119, 169, 170,
Tomb Raider 229 183, 184, 185, 190, 199, 201, 204, 206,
Tomine, Adrian 90 208, 231, 246248, 265, 270, 274, 276
Tommiks Texas 168 VIZ Communications 227
Tomoko, Hayakawa 217 Vlker, Alexandra 230, 231
Tpffer, Rodolphe 10, 70 Vonnegut, Kurt 131
Topic 94 Voss, Stefan 229
Tr, Vedat Nedim 167 Voyance 194
Toriyama, Akira 226, 229 Vu, Nhung 233
Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri de 105
The Tracey Fragments (2006) 270 Wagner, John 141, 143
Transgression 51 Waid, Mark 159
Translation 191, 232, 279 Ware, Chris 90, 91, 258
Trauma 3, 21, 3439, 41, 48, 51, 74, 80, Warrior (magazine) 142
172, 213 Watchmen 12, 35, 151, 153157, 268
Travesty 259 Watkins, Dudley Dexter 109, 111
Treasure Island 189 Waverley 112
Trembles, Rick 90 Wayne, John 105
The Triumph of Death 70 We 146
Turan, Abdullah 169 Wee Jimmy 113
Turan, Rami 169 Weir, Peter 263
Turkey 164174 Welsh, Irvine 113
Turning point 66 Welz, Larry 190
25th Hour (lm) 33 Werner 225
Twisted Sisters 191 Werner, Nina 230
2000AD 140152 Wertham, Fredric 88, 128, 167, 246
Tykho Moon (lm) 31 Western 168
Westernization 173
U-Comix 191 Wetzel, Gina 230, 231
Uderzo, Albert 224 Whale, James 22
The Ultimates 151 Whedon, Joss 22
Underground 24, 45, 53, 90, 140, 190, Willingham, Bill 151
225 Wimmens Commix 191
Understanding Comics 250, 257, 266, 277 Witches Abroad 106
United 93 (2006) 34 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 193
Universal Pictures 30 The Wizard of Oz 106
Urotsukidoji Legend of the Overend 202 Wolverine (character) 26, 29
298 INDEX
Wonder Woman 21, 154 Yamato, Waki 213

Woodring, Jim 258 Yang, Tian 233
World Trade Center (lm) 34, 43 The Yellow Kid 238
World War I 147 Yildirim, Reyhan 233
World War II 33, 89, 135, 160, 167, 214, Yonen Buzz 230
224 Young Magazine 219
Wyrd Sisters 263 Youth culture 222, 249, 250, 251
Yu-Gi-Oh! 226
The X-Men (characters) 21, 22, 27, 28 Yuen, Corey 28
X-Men (lm series) 28, 31, 36
X-Men 2 (lm) 27, 28 Zamyatin, Yevgeny 146
X-Men 3 The Last Stand (lm) 22, 25, Zarate, Oscar 12
26, 29, 30 Zedong, Mao 225
X2 see X-Men 2 Zhou, Ying 233
Xie, Simone 233 Zimmermann, Detta 230, 231
Y Square 230, 231

Yalat, Suaz 172

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1. Comic books, strips, etc. History and criticism.

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allure is motion, rhythm, dynamic. It is a radically different means of address-

THE SPATIO-TOPIA OF THE COMIC BOOK PAGE(S)

If one assumes the spatio-topia to be the basic condition of the comic

BRINGING THE SPATIO-TOPIA TO THE MOVIE SCREEN:

Mario Bavas Danger: Diabolik (1968)

Zack Snyders Adaptation of Frank Millers 300 (2007)

arts is further substantiated. Most pages present vast panoramas, emphasiz-

Ang Lees The Hulk (2003)

continued the tradition of the misunderstood monster made popular by clas-

chises based on comic books, and screenwriters participating in the develop-

The second factor that has contributed signicantly to the success of

embittered Magneto promotes militant separatism and violence as self-

ing-out. In contrast to the easy solutions offered by conventional blockbuster

tive mise-en-scne. A new serum, euphemistically called the cure, permits

vel adaptations now rather tend to manifest themselves in the subtext or as

THE REVISIONARY SUPERHERO NARRATIVE

action lms produced and distributed by a major Hollywood studio, achieve

BATMAN BEGINSTHE OTHERING OF AN AMERICAN HERO

ver Age in the history of American comics that presented straightforward,

BRUCE WAYNE: What makes you think I need a path?

V FOR VENDETTATHE TERRORIST SUPERHERO

Throughout the lm, the media are portrayed as government-controlled

audience identication characters that are dened by the authorities within

major difference: they are intercut with ashback shots of V as he emerges

The contemporary independent comic scene has produced a veritable

Pierre-Franois hardly recognizes his brother (David B: LAscension du haut mal.

in retrospect, starts in the present in the parental bathroom, where Pierre-

comprehensible fact neither from the childs perspective, nor in retrospect

he goes bad, he wants to kill everyone! He keeps his hands as if he wanted to

Jean-Christophes rst epileptic t (David B: LAscension du haut mal. 1996 LAsso-

characterizes the traditional concept of the artist. This modied perception

nership to a suppressive system of control that he establishes over her when

ing point for an examination of her personal environment and society as a

ence by adapting literature and consequently have distanced themselves from

duction to Peter Kupers adaptations of a collection of Kafkas short stories.

The techniques used in comic adaptation are similar to those used in

employing the tools of the trade: panel-management, cuts, changes of per-

A CLOSER LOOK: DIE ENTDECKUNG DER CURRYWURST

The comic adaptation of literature has formed a rich tradition offering

A broadside depicting a horrible murder (Johann Schubert: A Musician Kills Preg-

However, the very assaults on this medium as recorded in this quote

Left: A photograph of Joe Sacco ( Joe

ized and thus in stark contrast with the

an essential truth that

In the pantheon of annoying questions, besides the crowned champion