Guest Blogger: Jason Erik Lundberg

1. What book/author is a guilty pleasure for you?

After hearing mentions for years about the graphic series Bone by
Jeff Smith, I've finally started reading the collected volumes, after
finding them shelved in the "Art" section of my neighbourhood branch of
the Singapore National Library. The series starts out with a whimsical
tone, following the adventures of the Bone cousins: the cute and
somewhat naive Fone Bone, the manipulative and crafty Phoney Bone, and
the exuberant and playful Smiley Bone. There's a childlike wonder at
play in Smith's writing and deceptively simple art (he's claimed Walt
Kelly's Pogo as a strong influence, and it shows), and I found
myself sucked into the stories. Each volume is almost 200 pages, but
I've been able to inhale one in an hour easily.

However, what I discovered with Volume 4 (The Dragonslayer) is a subtle
shift in tone to something a bit darker. Even though there was a sense
of menace in the previous volumes with the presence of the (Stupid
Stupid) Rat Creatures, their ineptness and clumsiness prevented them
from doing much real damage to the Bones or their friends. But now, we
are introduced to their hooded leader, who is making wicked alliances in
order to take over the valley. In addition, Thorn, a young woman on whom
Fone Bone has a crush, finds out a world-shattering truth about her
childhood and her identity. This new epic storyline, which has naturally
extended from the previous volumes, makes the books even more
compelling, and I can't wait to start Volume 5.


2. Was there ever a book that you bought merely for its design?

The Arrival by Shaun Tan. Not only is Tan a remarkably gifted
artist (the book is completely without text, which means the narrative
has to stand on its visuals, which it does, beautifully), but he's also
an incredible graphic designer. The book has the overall impression of a
photo album, made up of stills of a man's adventures as he arrives in a
new city. Some pages are entirely taken up by one image (what's called a
splash page in comics), others have grids of panels that represent
sequential narrative, and in other instances, an image can take up two
full pages. The gutters are typically white, but also black, or textured
grey or blue-grey to visually indicate another character's
story-within-the-story. Some pages are marked with wrinkles, folds, or
mold spots (a similar technique to what Janet Chui used in the design of
A Field Guide to Surreal Botany), and the endpapers are a 10x6
grid of what look like immigrant passport photos.

The total effect of all of this is that the reader feels immersed in
Tan's fantastical world, following the seemingly simple storyline of a
man having to leave his family behind and migrate to a new land,
learning how to navigate his new home, to communicate with the locals,
and to try to fit in. This feeling of dislocation and unfamiliarity is
also reflected in the symbols that Tan created as a representation of
written language; they look vaguely familiar, but are in the end
unknowable to the reader, which helps us to share in the protagonist's
confusion. The Arrival is a phenomenal book, and Tan's design is
an integral part of what makes it so good.


3. What book would people be surprised to learn that you enjoyed?

If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor by Bruce
Campbell. Like many of my friends in their early-to-mid 30s, I first got
introduced to Campbell in the slapstick horror film Army of
Darkness, directed by his pal Sam Raimi. After that, I saw Campbell
in several TV series like The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.,
Hercules and Jack of All Trades; he kept showing up in
these great, funny genre vehicles, and eventually I got around to seeing
The Evil Dead and Evil Dead 2 (the second one was
much better). What I didn't realize was that not only was
Campbell the star of the films, but he worked behind the scenes as well.

Much of If Chins Could Kill focuses on the DIY filmmaking
approach that Campbell, Sam & Ted Raimi, Robert Tapert, and their
friends utilized to such wonderful B-move effect in the Evil Dead
movies. It's fascinating reading, and Campbell's wit and enthusiasm
bring to life an exuberance for acting and making movies; this includes
detailed diagrams on the different rigs that they built to get the
camera to do what they wanted it to do. It's inspiring and entertaining
stuff, and injects a bit of the drive to do some of it yourself.

There's also a lot about Campbell's life-long friendships, and the
trials and tribulations of being typecast as a B-movie actor. After
reading the book, I really wished he'd been given bigger breakthrough
roles rather then being relegated to cult status, but at the same time,
he seems happy with the work that he's done, and grateful to be able to
make movies on his own terms.

Jason Erik Lundberg