Anna Deavere Smith
“ Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. ”
G. K. Chesterton
“ I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. ”
We are mega happy to be publishing Hanna K’s work. We actually started by making three books. The first one is THE NEW FRONTIER, which is a bit of an introduction to this massive space spanning sci-fi story she’s working on, with comics and sketches in it. We also published a super tiny comic which was her hourly comic day from 2013 and we also did a reprint of her cool swedish book called Lite drömmar (it’s only in swedish though).
All three books are in the shop right now, and she’s coming with us to ELCAF next month so.. get autographs and irl high fives there!
Hanna K. is cool.
this looks cool
wow this looks awesome!
“ She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself. ”
Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess (via thelostdeer)
“Every film is different, but there’s always some hook that gets you into the project. On Monsters it was the thought that maybe monsters are real, and that they scare kids for a living — it’s their job. That simple premise lead to everything else.” - Pete Docter
I spend a lot of time wondering what the effects are of minor decisions I make. For example, I bent over and picked up a quarter today in my living room before walking out to the street to catch a bus to work. I showed up at my bus stop at exactly the same time as somebody else and ended up boarding behind them as a result. When I went to get off the bus, this person tripped in the aisle in front of me, keeping me from getting off the bus. The driver started driving before he realized what happened, which put me a block away from my stop. I got to work late. Elevator got stuck in the shaft two minutes before I walked through the front door. It’s two hours later and the people are still stuck. Had I not picked up that quarter, I might be stuck in a broken elevator right now.
When I was nine I lived in a house out in the suburbs of western Pennsylvania for a short period of time. This was well before developers decided to milk the area for every cent they could by cramming new housing plans and strip malls into every open square foot of underused field they could find. Things were spread out back then. There were a lot of woods in the suburbs. It was nice.
One day one of my friends and I decided to go exploring in the woods, as kids do. We had some grandiose plan about starting a secret club and building a tree fort to house our operations, but really it was just the sort of shit kids said to give us an excuse to dick around in the woods on a summer afternoon.
About two summers earlier a tent appeared in the middle of the woods and nobody really knew where it came from. The woods were effectively the overgrown places where the borders of all of the neighborhood’s sizeable yards met, and the people in my neighborhood weren’t too concerned with where one yard ended and another began or if the neighbor kids went tromping around through their little slice of the woods. The woods were more or less seen as community property and finding things up there with unknown owners was a common occurrence.
The tent, existing in what was more or less a central and well obscured location, had become a bit of a popular landmark for the neighbor kids. We all knew where it was, and often times any planned excursions into the woods would start with a trip to the tent. The day my friend and I decided to go exploring in the woods to scout tree fort locations, our plans were to meet up after lunch at the tent. It was a common way for us to plan things.
I sat down to eat lunch and watch television before my scheduled outing into the woods. I don’t even remember what I was trying to watch that day, only that I had gotten myself fairly entrenched in watching it. My brother came bursting in the back door with a couple of his friends, sat down in front of the television without even acknowledging my presence, and started playing video games on the TV that I was trying to watch. It was a total dick move that I’ve since forgiven him for, but it was a total dick move. I asked nicely a couple times for him to let me get back to watching TV but he just told me to shut up while he and his obnoxious friends rained on my TV parade.
Having lived through this scenario a number of times in the past, I decided this was the time to take action. I went into the kitchen, picked up a small frying pan, sneaked up behind my brother, and cracked that bastard right over the head. He howled in pain before quickly chasing me around the house and landing a few retaliatory blows. I screamed. My mother at this point had picked up on the brewing trouble and decided to dole out justice: when it was all over I was grounded for an undefined amount of time and my brother wasn’t allowed to have friends over. I was sent to my room to think hard about my actions.
It was about nine in the evening when the phone rang. My mother answered it and talked in an unmistakenly annoyed voice that slowly turned to concern. Soon she was at my bedroom door asking if I knew where my friend was. Apparently his mom thought he was at my house. He had left after lunch. I told my mom that we were supposed to meet up in the woods at the tent. My mom asked what tent I was talking about and I told her all about the tent in the woods. My mom’s concerned tone became a hysterical tone. At some point the police showed up at the door and asked me to tell them where the tent was.
I tried to describe the location of the tent as well as I could but they still couldn’t find it or my friend even after searching well into the night. The police asked my mom if they could take her and me into the woods so that they knew exactly where to look. She seemed terrified of the idea but agreed. She knew something was wrong.
We all walked through the woods and I realized why they couldn’t find the tent. It was gone. Since I knew where to look I was able to spot the area on the floor of the woods where the tent had spent years, the indentation in the mud and the dead grass, but the tent itself was gone as if it had never been there.
My friend was never seen again.
I frequently wonder to myself whether or not I’d still be alive if something bad was on television that day, along with what other benign decisions led to me not making it into the woods that day.
Never make any decision lightly.
( From r/nosleep, by whoreoffire )
So often, modernizations and movie adaptations get a bad rap, and those who love the heart and soul of the original works fume at them with just indignation. But every once in a while, the adaptation isn’t bad. Every so often, they bring old worlds to new people, and that’s the best thing there is.
God bless this post.
this post has introduced me to The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, me gusta :)
“ My experience of life is that it is not divided up into genres; it’s a horrifying, romantic, tragic, comical, science-fiction cowboy detective novel. You know, with a bit of pornography if you’re lucky. ”
excited for this
Recently arrived and now shipping from our mail-order department:
No Straight Lines: Four Decades of Queer Comics
by various artists; edited by Justin Hall (cover art by Maurice Vellekoop)
328-page black & white/color 7.75” x 10.25” hardcover • $35.00
Queer cartooning encompasses some of the best and most interesting comics of the last four decades, with creators tackling complex issues of identity and a changing society with intelligence, humor, and imagination. This book celebrates this vibrant artistic underground by gathering together a collection of excellent stories that can be enjoyed by all.
No Straight Lines showcases major names such as Alison Bechdel (whose book Fun Home was named Time Magazine’s 2006 Book of the Year), Howard Cruse (whose groundbreaking Stuck Rubber Baby is now back in print), and Ralf Koenig (one of Europe’s most popular cartoonists), as well as high-profile, crossover creators who have flirted with the world of LGBTQ comics, like legendary NYC artist David Wojnarowicz and media darling and advice columnist Dan Savage. No Straight Lines also spotlights many talented creators who never made it out of the queer comics ghetto, but produced amazing work that deserves wider attention.
Until recently, queer cartooning existed in a parallel universe to the rest of comics, appearing only in gay newspapers and gay bookstores and not in comic book stores, mainstream bookstores or newspapers. The insular nature of the world of queer cartooning, however, created a fascinating artistic scene. LGBT comics have been an uncensored, internal conversation within the queer community, and thus provide a unique window into the hopes, fears, and fantasies of queer people for the last four decades.
These comics have forged their aesthetics from the influences of underground comix, gay erotic art, punk zines, and the biting commentaries of drag queens, bull dykes, and other marginalized queers. They have analyzed their own communities, and their relationship with the broader society. They are smart, funny, and profound. No Straight Lines will be heralded by people interested in comics history, and people invested in LGBT culture will embrace it as a unique and invaluable collection.
“I discovered… what I was looking for, a queer world with stories and characters that I could recognize, that I could laugh with and care about. What I needed was a book like this: hairy legs and all.” – Lana Wachowski (The Matrix, Bound), from her introduction
“We’ve all been waiting too long for a collection like this! You must buy this book!” – Alison Bechdel (Fun Home, Dykes to Watch Out For)