I used to complain that there were no books on drawing comics besides Will Eisner's Comics and Sequential Art and Graphic Storytelling—all other books claiming to be on the subject were about drawing pinup art for the artistically disinclined. Drawing comics, the younger Shaenon argued pretentiously, was a discipline in itself, and it had nothing to do with designing Wizard covers or following whatever numbered instructions Christopher Hart had just pulled out of his nether regions. Drawing comics wasn't about aping a style; it was about telling a story. (Younger Shaenon did make allowances for How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way, but only the VHS video version, because watching Stan Lee and John Buscema is just so darn entertaining. They're like those old Warner Brothers cartoons with the big bulldog in the sweater and the little yappy dog who dances around alternately fawning over him and doing things to get smacked.)
The third volume in McCloud's comics-theory trilogy is also the longest, clocking in at over 250 pages of instructional comics, teeny-tiny endnotes, and quotes and examples from dozens of cartoonists. As usual, McCloud thinks in terms of systems and rules. To explain facial expressions, he comes up with a list of universal emotions, then builds a massive two-page chart of all possible combinations. He also rolls out the concept of the "Four Tribes"—craftsmen, storytellers, experimenters, and rebels—into which all cartoonists can supposedly be categorized. Somehow, all the charts and labels and formulae come off as liberating rather than limiting, in part because the little cartoon Scott McCloud is so quick to kick over his own fussy houses of cards and remind the reader not to take any of this as gospel. He frequently drifts away from the subject of drawing comics, distracted by shiny things: types of word/picture combinations, differences between American comics and Japanese manga, the history of comics, the anatomical structure of the human face. But there's a lot of solid advice on developing a story, creating characters (through both art and writing), composing pages, penciling, inking, and producing a finished comic. Also, in one of the notes he mentions me.
Okay, I might as well admit I haven't actually finished this and have mostly entertained myself by looking at the pictures. This oversized paperback, beautifully produced by First Second, goes beyond individual instruction: it's a complete course in drawing comics, appropriate for an art and/or writing teacher at the collegiate level. Since Abel and Madden both teach comics at the School of Visual Art in Manhattan, it makes sense that they approach the subject as instructors. The book does its best to be friendly, occasionally breaking up the text with the cartoon adventures of a group of would-be cartoonists, and the instructions kid around from time to time (the section on drawing a 24-hour comic, an exercise McCloud also recommends in Making Comics, includes the advice, "When buying snacks for your all-nighter, remember: Pretzels make the perfect cartoonists' treat. No greasy fingers!"). But there's no way around it: this is one damn intimidating book. It's not the kind of thing to read cover to cover on a lazy afternoon, but it does contain everything you could possibly want to know, presented clearly and decisively. If you have questions—sensible questions about sitting down and drawing a comic, not McCloudian whimsies—Abel and Madden have answers.
Well, somebody had to cut the crap. The first chapter of Kyle Baker's slim instructional manual is entitled, "Do a Cartoon!" It elaborates: "To be a cartoonist, you must actually make cartoons. I bring this up because I've met a lot of people who say they want to be cartoonists, but they don't have any cartoons." This is already more useful than everything McCloud, Abel, and Madden come up with put together.
Not a book on drawing comics, per se, but a guide to writing and telling stories in any medium, based on a creative writing class that Barry teaches (which is in turn based on the method taught by artist Marilyn Fresca). Written and drawn on sheets of yellow legal paper, it's a mixture of comics, illustrated text, and collages, with much of the material clipped from children's doodles and old homework assignments. Barry commisserates about her history as an artist and gradually sketches out theories on art and storytelling as an extention of childhood play and as activities vital to the health of mind and soul. The final pages of the book comprise a lesson plan, hosted by cartoon characters, with exercises designed to spark stories: collecting words and pictures, writing everything you can remember about dogs you've known. The goal is to stop worrying about being "good" or "bad" at art and just do it, because making art is an important part of being human. (Then, of course, Kyle Baker will come along and stomp that hippie crap out of you: "If you know it's bad, why are you showing it to me? Make it better.") It's also a beautiful piece of art in itself, with each page a colorful multimedia composition. There are books now that tell you how to draw comics, but this is the only one that tells you why.Shaenon K. Garrity is a manga editor at Viz Media and is best known for her webcomics Narbonic and Skin Horse.
All the Comics in the World is © Shaenon K. Garrity, 2008
