Wizywig

An entertaining and engaging enough book, but it always feels very much like surface where I'd like to read about it more in depth.  There is probably an answer to that, such as picking up the book that is by a serial hacker instead of one that is a portrait of a serial hacker.


This book does well to point out the different faces of hacking, that it is not a crowd of people all trying to gain something valuable for themselves.  That there are those who are simply learning and poking and seeing what turns up.  That the thing of value can be only that a puzzle is solved.  For me, I already counted that among the things I know.  I have never delved into a particular hacker, so the elements of life presented here are quite interesting, but, again, quite cursory.

The Catcher in the Rye

What. A. Twit.

reading Joe Sacco (Palestine)

I am reading Palestine and I turn the page and suddenly...

There it is, I've hit the rapids again.  I attempt to take in the whole page quickly to find the safe route through the chaos.  There it is, swishing through the middle, past a panel that is really a whirlpool of five panels.  Although boxes are used, not a single line is laid horizontally.  There seems to be a fear of the horizontal line in the author.  The rapids have tamed again by the next page, but it is still an extremely active page and still contains no horizontal lines.

This is the feel throughout the book, dynamic, active, in your face, dragging me down the streets of Palestine with the author kicking and screaming.  Oh, sure, somewhere buried in this book are a few pages that have a conventional layout.  More toward the end than the start, he seems to have gotten over the fear of horizontal lines at some point.  There's even a few in a solid grid, followed by a page with an even smaller grid.  That page is very rare, the rest is this.  Even when resting on one of many couches in a room in a refuge camp taking in yet more tea followed by coffee, it is clear that the rest is shallow and can only be brief.  Maybe it's the caffeine that makes even these pages walking through a museum churn.

Sacco in Palestine contrasts quite sharply with Guy Delisle in Jerusalem.  Where Delisle moves generally in circles of ex-pats, Sacco is enthusiastically seeking out any locals, generally in refugee camps, who will talk to him.  Delisle is sitting back and observing almost entirely, Sacco is out poking anything he can with a stick.  Delisle mentions some wrong committed against a Palestinian that you probably ought to know is just the tip of the iceberg, Sacco makes absolutely sure you know it is that tip, and a very small considering the block of ice still hidden below.  He is not above starting a list to point at all that is below.

Both report on themselves as well, but while Delisle ends up reporting on the arbitrary harassment he gets for having the nerve to go off to comics conventions he is invited to in Europe, which is rather extreme, and for wanting to sit somewhere and quietly draw, which apparently isn't quite the innocent action the rest of us take it for, and tours he takes directed by Israelis, one from a group of disgruntled soldiers and one by settlers; Sacco is reporting on how, as he seeks out stories from all who will talk to him, he is a bit of a vulture and the stories become repetitive.  He reports on breaking curfew and watching illegal movies and the mud puddles in winter and the limitations of refugee housing and lots and lots of hospitality, tea, more tea, and coffee, sitting by the heater and the food presented to guests to hide real circumstances and which he isn't shy about eating.  He has his own tour, too, of the refuge camp courtesy of UNRWA.

Oddly, I found that the myth of the empty land was most blatant in Delisle's book even though Sacco spends much more time dispelling it.  Today we celebrate our own myth of the empty land, although the day is still two days away, with the observance of Columbus Day commemorating the discovery of the new world.  We ignore that there were already all sorts of people already here and knowing of the land.  It was not empty, but we think about it as though it was.  There are no empty lands except Antarctica.  If there is a way of surviving somewhere, people have figured it out and are doing it.  In Delisle's tour guided by settlers, he is told that the land was barren before, a complete fabrication.  His character of himself mumbles how the ancient olive trees give witness that this is a lie, but not directly saying so.  Sacco, of course, seeks out those who were displaced, who had their houses destroyed and their farmlands and trees ruined, who made the land green before, to get their stories.  He also talks with those who are still trying to make the land green under too frequent harassment.

Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City

As usual, Guy Delisle makes a far flung place feel very accessible, although perhaps not physically so.  He brings an even mix of experiences any traveler in Jerusalem could have or observe with those specific to his own profession as an animator and cartoonist.  It usually has a very mellow tone with occasional pointedness, much like the drawings.  He has poise and timing.  He knows when to let the images speak for themselves or even contradict.  He is very consistent although the material of each place is anything but.  So as usual, it is a great pleasure to read.

Anya's Ghost

This is a simple story of a few days in the life of a girl as she matures a little intellectually.  It is a cute story with an unusual vehicle, but travels a very familiar path in that.  And somehow, although she's grown by the end, I was left with a sense that she hadn't actually done any growing.  She has determinedly turned a new leaf, but it is somewhat abrupt.

The art is solid and expressive and cute.  It is a little cartoony, but that's the way I like it.  The whole is somewhat bland, but pleasant.

Incognito

 There's the anti-HERO, the one who is imperfect and brooding, but in the end, heroic, and then there's the ANTI-hero, the one who may have done something heroic, but it is a side effect of some decidedly unheroic motivation.  I seem to be happy with the first, but not the second.  The hero here is decidedly the second.

Had I read this as issues, I doubt I'd have gotten past the second.  Our protagonist manages to masquerade as someone else to have sex with a woman he works with just a few pages in.  Yep, rape.  How endearing.  Then there's a bit of heroing for his own twisted unheroic reasons that actually gets a bit boring.  Superpowered guy beating up random street thugs.  Meh.

But I have six issues in a cover in my hands, so it doesn't end there.  Luckily, that is all just introductory stuff.  The story does pick up into something far more interesting and ultimately moves him along the scale toward the first, the anti-HERO.  Likely not enough for my own tastes, but not everything has to be written for me.

Sita Sings the Blues

Here's a movie following some very odd distribution. It's all got to do with rights to music as well as its own licensing. The end result is free and legal downloads of the official DVD. Which are finally available now. Various other watching methods have been available for a while now, so I've seen it already anyway.

Sita Sings the Blues is a weird and wonderful retelling of a main Indian myth. Animated art reminiscent of painted shadow puppets adds great character and charm to the telling.