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A review by helpfulsnowman
America, Vol. 1: The Life and Times of America Chavez by Gabby Rivera, Joe Quiñones
2.0
Lately, I've learned that a good way to look at a work is to talk about the "opportunities." Rather than saying something stinks, where are the opportunities in the story? Which seeds are planted without enough care, or which crops grow without being harvested?
Here's a summary. Read it if you're into that kind of thing or it helps you make a decision:
The opportunities here sit in the forming of summary into story. We get summaries of a lot of things, very quick versions of them, a lot of characters telling us about a thing that will happen, has happened, or is happening, and then telling us how they feel about it. The reader doesn't often get to live in the story moments. Things move so quickly from one thing to another that there's no time. It's BAM, someone gets socked in the face, BAM, we're in a car, holding a flower, crying about a breakup.
Maybe this is a style issue that just doesn't speak to me as a reader. It's entirely possible that this sort of thing works better for others.
There's also a lack of textures here. What I mean is, the entire story is told in dialog. There are ways to let the art carry some weight, let the actions do some of the work, and there are ways to do dialog where the characters aren't speaking literally, saying exactly what they feel all the time.
When you have balloons doing all the work, you get stuff like this:
"I, Peggy Carter, leader of the French Resistance." This happens when dialog is used in an expository way. Characters are forced to introduce themselves in odd ways. Have you ever introduced yourself by saying, "It is I, Pete, Occupation: Painter"? I chose that because I touched up paint on a wall today. And I'm fixing a chair later. Work somewhere long enough, you get all the weird shit...
This happens more than a couple times:
The dialog also gets ping-pong-y. Person A speaks, Person B directly addresses what Person A says, and they toss it back and forth that way. There's a rhythm when that happens, and it's hard to tell what is important to the speaker and what isn't.
And that's the real thing. Because there's a lot of summary, and because of the way things are paced out, all of the events, and all of the dialog in the book have the same weight. Breaking up with a girlfriend has the same emotional weight as a brief battle on another planet has the same weight as the return to that same planet at a later time. Nothing seems particularly important or unimportant. At no point does it feel like America's in danger, and her confident moments are shaded the same grey as her unsure moments.
Some added textures could change the weights. Speed things up in places and slow them down in others. Provide tissue that connects these different stories and events. Makes them feel more like part of a single story, which they are because this is the story of America's life.
Let's talk about the other part.
Again, like I felt with Moon Girl, thumbs-up for representation, and thumbs-up for hiring diversity too.
There's a big but here though.
America punches Hitler. I'm certainly not opposed to the idea of punching Hitler in the face. That's a light way to put it. But then Hitler is just sort of led away by a couple buddies, reeling. Wha? And then Peggy Carter asks America why it might not be the best idea to just run in and sock someone, alluding to the idea that there were plans in place here to not just do something that feels good, but actually stops Hitler...but the question dies on the page.
The thing is, it felt like we wanted this Nazi punching moment. But it happens, and then it's like we can't get away from it fast enough. It's representative of a lot of the book. The stories can all feel like asides. There was zero build-up to this moment. We hear the name, America turns her head, and then she punches Hitler. And then it's over.
And by making it actual Hitler...I think it weakens the statement. It's watered down when it's actual Hitler. Who wouldn't punch actual Hitler? What's the argument for not punching actual Hitler, who just happens to be wandering around a battlefield? Any argument regarding not punching modern day Nazis does not apply when punching Hitler.
It makes an argument about a societal discussion, but the argument is mostly about what happens within an altered set of parameters. The question is changed from, "How do you feel about Richard Spencer being punched in the face?" to "How do you feel about a fictional superhero traveling through time, spotting Hitler, and pasting him one?"
And that's how I feel about a lot of the social aspects of the book. They sort of bring up a question, but rather than distilling a question to its essence, it swerves around the question, and it can't take a breath before we're on to something else.
~
The fate of this book comes down to a chicken and the egg argument: Does all of this different stuff get crammed into this book because the creators fear its cancellation, and therefore want to accomplish a lot in a limited space? -or- Will the book be cancelled because it's cramming so much this happened, then this happened, into a limited space, therefore not really giving readers a lot to enjoy or a character they get to know?
I understand the impulse to say, "We're lucky if we get 12 issues out of this, so let's make sure to say EVERYTHING we want to say in that assumed space. We can't waste a lot of time setting up big arcs if we're not going to get to pay them off."
As a reader, I'd rather read a book that ends prematurely, doesn't pay off an arc, and has me thinking, "Damn, that should have gone on longer. I wanted to see where that was going. This was a mistake." "Damn, I'm sad to see this character go."
Right now...I just don't feel that way about America. I bought the first trade (digitally), but I don't need more. There's no payoff that seems to be coming. And America, for all that sets her apart demographically, is kinda wooden.
I guess that's my argument in favor of going the other way. I'm not left wanting more because...more of what?
Well, okay. More of the covers. The covers are pretty fuckin' great.
Here's a summary. Read it if you're into that kind of thing or it helps you make a decision:
The opportunities here sit in the forming of summary into story. We get summaries of a lot of things, very quick versions of them, a lot of characters telling us about a thing that will happen, has happened, or is happening, and then telling us how they feel about it. The reader doesn't often get to live in the story moments. Things move so quickly from one thing to another that there's no time. It's BAM, someone gets socked in the face, BAM, we're in a car, holding a flower, crying about a breakup.
Maybe this is a style issue that just doesn't speak to me as a reader. It's entirely possible that this sort of thing works better for others.
There's also a lack of textures here. What I mean is, the entire story is told in dialog. There are ways to let the art carry some weight, let the actions do some of the work, and there are ways to do dialog where the characters aren't speaking literally, saying exactly what they feel all the time.
When you have balloons doing all the work, you get stuff like this:
"I, Peggy Carter, leader of the French Resistance." This happens when dialog is used in an expository way. Characters are forced to introduce themselves in odd ways. Have you ever introduced yourself by saying, "It is I, Pete, Occupation: Painter"? I chose that because I touched up paint on a wall today. And I'm fixing a chair later. Work somewhere long enough, you get all the weird shit...
This happens more than a couple times:
The dialog also gets ping-pong-y. Person A speaks, Person B directly addresses what Person A says, and they toss it back and forth that way. There's a rhythm when that happens, and it's hard to tell what is important to the speaker and what isn't.
And that's the real thing. Because there's a lot of summary, and because of the way things are paced out, all of the events, and all of the dialog in the book have the same weight. Breaking up with a girlfriend has the same emotional weight as a brief battle on another planet has the same weight as the return to that same planet at a later time. Nothing seems particularly important or unimportant. At no point does it feel like America's in danger, and her confident moments are shaded the same grey as her unsure moments.
Some added textures could change the weights. Speed things up in places and slow them down in others. Provide tissue that connects these different stories and events. Makes them feel more like part of a single story, which they are because this is the story of America's life.
Let's talk about the other part.
Again, like I felt with Moon Girl, thumbs-up for representation, and thumbs-up for hiring diversity too.
There's a big but here though.
America punches Hitler. I'm certainly not opposed to the idea of punching Hitler in the face. That's a light way to put it. But then Hitler is just sort of led away by a couple buddies, reeling. Wha? And then Peggy Carter asks America why it might not be the best idea to just run in and sock someone, alluding to the idea that there were plans in place here to not just do something that feels good, but actually stops Hitler...but the question dies on the page.
The thing is, it felt like we wanted this Nazi punching moment. But it happens, and then it's like we can't get away from it fast enough. It's representative of a lot of the book. The stories can all feel like asides. There was zero build-up to this moment. We hear the name, America turns her head, and then she punches Hitler. And then it's over.
And by making it actual Hitler...I think it weakens the statement. It's watered down when it's actual Hitler. Who wouldn't punch actual Hitler? What's the argument for not punching actual Hitler, who just happens to be wandering around a battlefield? Any argument regarding not punching modern day Nazis does not apply when punching Hitler.
It makes an argument about a societal discussion, but the argument is mostly about what happens within an altered set of parameters. The question is changed from, "How do you feel about Richard Spencer being punched in the face?" to "How do you feel about a fictional superhero traveling through time, spotting Hitler, and pasting him one?"
And that's how I feel about a lot of the social aspects of the book. They sort of bring up a question, but rather than distilling a question to its essence, it swerves around the question, and it can't take a breath before we're on to something else.
~
The fate of this book comes down to a chicken and the egg argument: Does all of this different stuff get crammed into this book because the creators fear its cancellation, and therefore want to accomplish a lot in a limited space? -or- Will the book be cancelled because it's cramming so much this happened, then this happened, into a limited space, therefore not really giving readers a lot to enjoy or a character they get to know?
I understand the impulse to say, "We're lucky if we get 12 issues out of this, so let's make sure to say EVERYTHING we want to say in that assumed space. We can't waste a lot of time setting up big arcs if we're not going to get to pay them off."
As a reader, I'd rather read a book that ends prematurely, doesn't pay off an arc, and has me thinking, "Damn, that should have gone on longer. I wanted to see where that was going. This was a mistake." "Damn, I'm sad to see this character go."
Right now...I just don't feel that way about America. I bought the first trade (digitally), but I don't need more. There's no payoff that seems to be coming. And America, for all that sets her apart demographically, is kinda wooden.
I guess that's my argument in favor of going the other way. I'm not left wanting more because...more of what?
Well, okay. More of the covers. The covers are pretty fuckin' great.