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mars2k's Reviews (234)
The Adventure Zone: Murder on the Rockport Limited!
Griffin McElroy, Clint McElroy, Justin McElroy, Travis McElroy, Carey Pietsch
adventurous
funny
mysterious
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I never thought I’d say the words “I want to cosplay Garfield” but here we are.
Once again, Pietsch’s artwork was delightful. I noticed more varied line weight this time round, which made the characters really pop. Taako’s expressions are perfect. The structuring of the fight scenes was better than last time, making them much easier to follow.
Not illustration-related but it’s also worth mentioning: I think this book made better use of Griffin’s DM interjections – they felt a lot more natural.
On to the negatives... Magnus and Taako were exceptionally cruel to Angus and Jenkins, which was a bit of a turn-off. I know that’s how they behaved in the podcast, but I thought it’d be toned down a little for the graphic novel. They also kept the part where Merle suggests tricking a man into killing himself, even though it serves no purpose besides just... being a suicide joke. Then again, this is an adaptation. I know there’s only so much that can (or should) be changed.
The Adventure Zone: Murder on the Rockport Limited isn’t quite good enough to earn four and a half stars from me, though I’d still rank it higher than Gerblins. And honestly? I think I enjoyed this book more than I enjoyed the podcast arc it’s based on.
Next up: Petals to the Metal
The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins
Griffin McElroy, Clint McElroy, Justin McElroy, Travis McElroy, Carey Pietsch
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
It must be incredibly difficult to adapt a story from a podcast (all audio, no visuals) to a graphic novel (all visuals, no audio), but The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins more or less pulled it off. Of course, there were sacrifices when it came to the vocal humour – Magic Brian’s accent doesn’t always come across and Taako’s iconic voice is gone (I wonder what people who read the book without listening to the podcast think he sounds like...)
Pietsch’s loose art style is nice to look at and it’s versatile, which is great for a story that flits back and forth between silly and serious. The colour palettes are varied and engaging. The action scenes were sometimes a little hard to follow, especially when there was a lot of dialogue to keep track of as well. Even so, the general vibe of “there’s a cool fight going on!” was conveyed well through the dynamic, irregular panels (contrasting against the flat, rectangular panels used in calmer scenes) – I was able to understand the general mood even if the specific attacks and movements weren’t always as clear as they could have been.
As an adaptation it fared pretty well, but I can’t help but feel like Merle was a little out-of-character. For the most part he came across as too sarcastic, too grouchy, too quick to suggest violence. I remember him being much more agreeable, acting as something of a foil to Taako and Magnus, who can both be abrasively arrogant and impulsive. That said, this is only the first book of the series so I expect he’ll mellow as the story progresses.
Though not flawless, this graphic novel was fun and nostalgic. Gerblins is not the strongest Balance arc story-wise since the McElroys were very much still finding their footing, so I’m hoping the following installments will be even better than this one.
challenging
reflective
medium-paced
Yeesh... Where to begin?
Babbling Corpse seemed like a book that would be right up my alley. Vaporwave? Anticapitalism? Metaphorical ghosts? It seemed to tick all the boxes. At first, my feelings about the book were generally positive. It was nothing groundbreaking and it didn’t really offer me any new perspectives or insights, but it was fine enough... Until it wasn’t. The final chapter (“Sick and Tired”) is pretty awful, and I’ll try to unpack it here.
Like in Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism, ADHD is stated to be “one symptom of our manic, plugged-in, social-media-obsessed culture,” supposedly caused by “the datascape.” Both titles were published by Zer0 Books; I do have one or two books published by them that I’ve yet to read, but I don’t know if I’ll buy another because being confronted by this vaccines-cause-autism-esque speculation about ADHD two times out of two does not bode well.
Tanner goes on to talk about pop culture, specifically superhero movies and pop music. This starts off as some unoriginal bellyaching about blockbusters and chart-toppers being meaningless trash, but gradually it gives way to something more insidious – an utterly unhinged tirade about the “cultural regression” and “cultural collapse” of the West, which sounds uncannily similar to fascist cries of “degeneracy” if I’m being honest. A discussion about the MCU includes the frankly hilarious claim that “Rome went down like this.”
Taylor Swift is singled out as the epitome of everything wrong with contemporary pop music, and from here on out she’s used as a scapegoat. She is dramatically declared to “signal the end of history” and is implied to be worse than terrorism. You just can’t make this up.
There’s this ongoing grievance against people sincerely enjoying popular media. Escapism is framed as complacency with capitalism – or, rather, “unfettered capitalism” since Tanner seems to be too much of a coward to criticise capitalism outright. Snide sidenote aside (try saying that three times fast), this is such a toxic mindset to have. It’s not healthy or sustainable to constantly be in activism mode, “resisting the powers that be” 24/7, with no room for rest and leisure. It’s okay to take breaks, and it’s okay to indulge from time to time.
Tanner claims “the reigning opinions of the mainstream music press dictate the tastes that we buy into” and I can kind of see what he’s trying to say, but at the end of the day he could just listen to music he enjoys instead of hate-listening to the top 100. The baseless drivel about critics being silenced if they fail to be “childishly optimistic” and being “excommunicated to the valley of the haters” for not praising Taylor Swift enough made me feel nauseous. That section rose to a crescendo with “one critic refusing to jump on the critical bandwagon” being presented as some kind of musical martyr. Thankfully, the book ended soon after that.
After reading Babbling Corpse, I just feel frustrated and let down. Most of the book had nothing to do with vaporwave and there was no real critique or investigation into how capitalism promotes the use of nostalgia as a marketing tool. Instead, I was presented with a general “nostalgia bad” attitude and a miserable, cynical tone which bordered on far-right rhetoric at times. This is not a good book.
fast-paced
Monsters: A Bestiary of the Bizarre is a nice collection of historical artworks from various cultures, but beyond that it doesn’t have much to offer. There is very little text, and even then it mostly consists of surface-level observation – no deeper insight or contextual analysis, which is what I’d been hoping to see. The only fresh perspective this book introduced me to was the idea that monsters (human-animal hybrids in particular) reflect “a human preoccupation with retaining mastery over the animal kingdom.” Unfortunately this, like every other remotely interesting remark, isn’t elaborated on.
I assumed the author just didn’t know much about the topic, but the further reading page includes many intriguing sources. If this is essentially a bibliography, why did Monsters have nothing interesting to say? Perhaps it was intended to be a really basic introductory text? If so, I think it’s a little too basic. It’s vapid.
I also want to note that the book would have been far more reader-friendly had the illustration captions/credits been included alongside each corresponding image or all in one place at the back of the book, rather than being listed at the end of each chapter.
Three stars. A middle-of-the-road rating for a middle-of-the-road book.
informative
slow-paced
There is a passage from this book (from pages 187-188 specifically) about the Chicxulub impactor, describing in detail the size and speed of the asteroid as well as the untempered devastation it inflicted on the Cretaceous Earth. I first read it about two years ago and it’s stuck with me ever since. I decided this year to read the original text, hoping the rest of the book would be as mind-blowing as that small fragment had been. Unfortunately it didn’t quite meet my (perhaps unreasonably) high expectations.
The meandering prose is a slog at times – a problem which isn’t helped by the overly long chapters. There were certainly some interesting parts here and there, but there was far too much padding around them and reading ended up feeling like a bit of a chore. I got tired of the global warming message pretty quickly. That’s not to say climate change isn’t an important topic to discuss – it absolutely is – but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brannen was using that framing to make the book seem more “relevant” to audiences that otherwise might not care about prehistoric mass extinctions. In my case at least, he was just preaching to the choir (which wouldn’t be so bad were it not interrupting the actually interesting stuff)
I may be a little disappointed but my feelings about the book still lean positive overall. I learnt a considerable amount, I can’t deny that. I probably won’t reread it cover to cover but I’ll definitely leaf through it at some point and revisit some of the fantastic quotes. One in particular has wormed its way into my skull and set up camp: “a lone wandering pronghorn still running from ghosts.” Hauntingly beautiful.
adventurous
emotional
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Nimona surprised me. At first I was enjoying it as a lighthearted sci-fi fantasy adventure, but by the end I was deeply hooked and emotionally invested. This is a truly character-driven story. The main characters – Nimona, Blackheart, and Goldenloin – are all masterfully developed, with their own distinct attitudes and motives. Nimona’s chaotic impulsivity and Blackheart’s more cautious and by-the-books approach complement each other well, making them excellent foils. Meanwhile, Blackheart’s history with Goldenloin makes their relationship intriguing and believable.
The character designs (and the visuals generally) are simplistic, which lends them a certain charm as well as serving the practical purpose of being relatively quick to draw. I appreciate the concept art page at the end of the book – I love that sort of behind-the-scenes bonus content showing an artist’s process and the development of their ideas prior to creating the finished piece.
After finishing this book, I learnt that it was originally published episodically on Tumblr. I think it shows, especially near the beginning where the pace is quick and the stakes are low, only later reconfiguring to focus on a single ongoing arc rather than smaller escapades. Overall, the graphic novel improves both artistically and in terms of writing as the story goes on. It would have been nice to see more splash pages and panels without dialogue, though I recognise that slowing the story down in this way would have made the book incredibly long.
Nimona is one of those books I know I’ll revisit at some point. I’d love to give the audiobook a listen as well.
dark
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
This Young Monster is undeniably interesting, but not quite what I was expecting or hoping for. There’s a chapter about Buster Keaton, for example, which I felt didn’t quite fit the theme of monsterhood – I can kind of see what the author was going for, but it was a bit of a stretch. The chapter “Spook House,” a script for an experimental play, also seemed a little out-of-place, though I suppose the chaotic tangents and shifts in tone are part of this book’s charm.
I’m not sure how to feel about the book overall, in all honesty. It’s definitely not bad but I can’t quite say it’s good either. It’s fascinatingly uncategorisable, which itself is really satisfying – it just feels right for a book like this to leave me slightly bemused. I must say, there were some wonderfully thought-provoking lines that have stuck with me, like “a monster is a fear assuming a form” and “monsters cause trouble, they disturb definitions, they discombobulate what we think we mean.”
This is going to sound really strange but bear with me: This Young Monster reminds me of the Sixth Doctor from Doctor Who. Brash, erratic, unrelentingly in-your-face, and definitely not what I was expecting, for better or for worse.
hopeful
informative
inspiring
slow-paced
As someone who didn’t know a whole lot about Venezuela, I found this book very informative. While it is accessible even to those with little to no prior knowledge, it can be a little difficult to follow at times due to the sheer amount of information there is to take in and to keep track of – people, organisations, terminology, etc.
I appreciate Ciccariello-Maher emphasising that Venezuela’s current socioeconomic situation was a long time coming and that there wasn’t a single revolution in which everything changed overnight; rather, it’s an ongoing process and the product of decades of build-up. On the topic of building up, much of the book is dedicated to how the communes are constructed from the bottom-up through grassroots participation rather than from the top-down with the state/government choosing to decentralise. This was one of the things I was vaguely aware of before reading the book, but having it laid out so plainly made me really understand its significance and appreciate it more.
Building the Commune is definitely a book I’d recommend, and it’s probably one I’ll revisit at some point.
fast-paced
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion has so much wasted potential. The writing isn’t great, with clunky wording and comma-saturated sentences making it difficult to read at some points. The indifferent narration makes even scenes intended to be shocking feel boring.
The POV character, Danielle, really isn’t likeable. She is dismissive and patronising towards anyone optimistic or passionate about what they do. There was an excellent quote from another character about anarchism, power, and trust which I found quite evocative, but Danielle responds by (in her head) scoffing at his immaturity and his overenthusiastic tone. Though she claims to be an anarchist, all she does deride those she supposedly agrees with. Somebody eventually calls her out on this (“You act like a revolutionary, but you’re a fucking poser”) and the way Danielle reacts makes it sound as though she thinks “poser” is some kind of slur – the gravest insult imaginable – but the person calling her that is absolutely right.
Pacing was another major issue. The story is incredibly quick, with everything happening one thing after another. There’s no time for tension to build or for characters to process what they experience, which is a big let-down in a story that’s supposed to be dark and mysterious. Uliksi is revealed far too early – I think the story would have worked better if he had been kept secret by the townspeople, driving Danielle to grow suspicious as she tries to figure out what they’re hiding and why before a big reveal when she finally discovers the truth. Dwelling on what she’s witnessed and trying to come to terms with it would serve not only to break up the action, but also to inject some emotion into this otherwise very apathetic main character.
Without delving into spoiler territory, the ending is anticlimactic. I finished the book feeling kind of cheated.
There isn’t much to praise besides the compelling concept and the diverse cast of (albeit rather flat) characters, though I still think that’s enough to earn it three stars. I didn’t dislike the book, but I am frustrated because it could have been exceptional with a little reworking.
challenging
informative
medium-paced
While I’ve seen other reviewers praise Capitalist Realism for its accessibility, I found it kind of impenetrable. Maybe that’s just because a lot of the pop culture references went over my head.
There were some compelling ideas put forward in this book. “Capitalist realism” itself is a very useful term, though it’s not properly defined and explained until the third chapter, “Capitalism and the Real.” This is the book’s strongest chapter. It goes on to discuss the “privatisation of stress” and the way we approach mental health issues from an individualist perspective rather than looking at the bigger picture and dealing with the underlying cause – as Fisher later states, “considering mental illness an individual chemico-biological problem has enormous benefits for capitalism.” There’s also an interesting note about “depressive hedonia” in the following chapter (“Reflexive impotence”)
There were some compelling ideas put forward in this book. “Capitalist realism” itself is a very useful term, though it’s not properly defined and explained until the third chapter, “Capitalism and the Real.” This is the book’s strongest chapter. It goes on to discuss the “privatisation of stress” and the way we approach mental health issues from an individualist perspective rather than looking at the bigger picture and dealing with the underlying cause – as Fisher later states, “considering mental illness an individual chemico-biological problem has enormous benefits for capitalism.” There’s also an interesting note about “depressive hedonia” in the following chapter (“Reflexive impotence”)
Beyond these few points, however, the book is mostly made up of nonsensical ramblings and wild assertions. Some are just baffling, like students listening to music being indicative of some kind of Oedipus complex. At other times, Fisher’s assertions are much more serious and potentially harmful. For example, he insists that ADHD is “a pathology of late capitalism – a consequence of being wired into the entertainment-control circuits of hypermediated consumer culture” and that dyslexia is caused by neoliberalism and/or postmodernism... somehow.
I wanted to like this book. I really did. I have to give credit where credit’s due and acknowledge that there are some really good ideas in there, but to get to them you have to wade through so much nonsense. I can’t say it’s is worth reading, unfortunately.