Big Breakfasting

I went to the Chicken House’s Big Breakfast event last week. And look, I spotted a copy of my book! Well, okay, it was just a spiral-bound printout, but this is the first time I’ve seen anything of Haunters on paper, so it was still memorable. I was even asked to sign a few.

These Big Breakfasts are all about bringing authors and their books together with interested parties from the world of children’s literature. There were croissants, there were readings, and there was the great Barry Cunningham to make it all sparkle.

The Chicken House’s list for this year seems very strong, and a few titles particularly caught my eye: Freaks by Kieran Larwood (last year’s Times Chicken House Fiction Competition winner), Girl About Time by Kerstin Geir (best-selling time slip romance first published in German in 2009), Floors by Patrick Carman (madcap goings-on in the barmiest hotel in the world) and Muncle Trogg and the Flying Donkey by Janet Foxley (the sequel to the wonderful Muncle Trogg, and which the author kindly inscribed for my son (who adores Muncle and anything to do with Mount Grumble)). But those were just the few books I snaffled on my way out. The rest look great too. I just hope Haunters won’t let the side down when it’s finally published in May.

A Boy and a Bear in a Boat

I was very pleased to be able to go to the launch -- at Heffers in Cambridge -- of Dave Shelton’s charming and delightful illustrated novel, A Boy and a Bear in a Boat. And it was lovely to meet so many old friends from art school and beyond. Though wishing to spare the author’s blushes, everything about the book is lovely too.

First there’s the title, which is itself a definition of what ‘high concept’ is all about. Then the cover is a jaw dropper, not only because it’s stylishly understated, but because publishers are thought to be allergic to anything but ‘play it safe’ these days. Then inside… well, inside there’s humour, humanity, allegory, a sea monster, fly-fishing with a rubber duck, a very strange sandwich, and much more besides, all peppered through with fine drawing. And some cracking one-liners too: “The boy managed a half-smile (he would save the other half for later)…”

For children and grown-ups alike, especially if they appreciate good design with their future classics. Buy it or find out more here or here. And you can see pages from Dave’s sketchbooks on his excellent blog. And if that isn't enough, Sarah McIntyre has written a much more fullsome acount of the launch, with photos and cake and everything!

Happy New Year! And...

Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a breakdown of the last 12 months. For me, 2011 was all about 2012 anyway. And I’m not going to be making any resolutions either (beyond the usual desire to increase brain activity whilst decreasing stomach usage). I just hope you all have a good time ahead, and can keep positive. Don’t let the tabloids get you down.

To set my blog going again, I wanted to post something about a twelve-year-old sketchbook blogger called William Sedgwick. Only, to do that I had to wait till he’d turned thirteen. His age is relevant because William recently suffered the indignity of having his long-standing blog and g-mail account summarily deleted by Google because he was ‘underage’. By two months. That’s DELETED, not frozen or suspended. And how was this young hoodlum found out? He was honest about his age whilst trying to upload a film to You Tube. Clearly the action of a dangerous subversive.

Anyway, now that Will’s matured overnight to be a responsible member of the blogosphere, I’m happy to say he has founded a new blog: Drawing Lizards. Please take a look – he has a fine and confident line, and a fearless eye. But after being slapped by Google, even Will could do with a boost. And he deserves more followers too, having lost the following he’d carefully built up. Will’s an old friend (is that okay, Google?) and I’ve seen many of his sketchbooks, indeed, been there when he drew in some of them. You won’t be disappointed by his blog, I promise.

Have a very...

This image pretty much sums up what I’ve had to deal with since school ended a week ago. But I’m not complaining. I’m lucky to be able to spend so much time with my boys (he mutters as he picks shrapnel out of his scalp). We’ve had a lot of fun, and the dials still aren’t in the red. Yet…

I send you all my warmest Christmas wishes, dear reader/friend/passer-by, and if you don’t do Christmas, well, you can have my warmest wishes anyway. I’ve been warming them all year:)

Have you seen these hedgehogs?

Designing a Character

These sketches and colour test show me looking for the sense of a character. It’s too early to say what he’s for, but I will say this is the first time I’ve worked with an author for ages. And there’s no doubt being an illustrator is slightly easier when it involves working to someone else’s specifications. Unless those specifications are crazy (happily not the case here). There’s such a thing as too much freedom.

Odd the difference between how someone looks in my head, and how they turn out on the page. Why is it I can’t just draw what I see in my mind’s eye? What is it about putting down marks that changes my intentions? Answers in the comments please.

This character is intended to be a cross between a dismal but kindly uncle type and a strong-arm butler. Someone you’d want with you in a dark alley, but not so much at a party. It’s the 1920s.

I finally get to draw a Homburg! Unless the author tells me not to.

Comic Books

For years now I have been drifting back towards the comic book/graphic novel mode. I say ‘back’, because it does feel like I’m coming home. As a teenager I always drew strip cartoons and comics, and it seemed like that was what I would always do. Until all of a sudden it wasn’t. The fact that this happened while I was at art school is no coincidence, but I can’t really blame anyone else (not even Batman) -- the fact is, it just didn’t seem to be something I could build a career on. I talked myself out of it.

I won’t bore you with the epic journey round my navel that has brought me to regret that decision. But I would like to share some of the landmark graphic books I came across on the way. And just in time for Christmas too.

La Théorie des Gens Seuls (or any of the Monsieur Jean books) by Dupuy & Berberian

When I moved to France I was pretty down on comic books. But Bandes Dessinées are a big deal over there, often the most popular section in bookshops, and it didn’t take me long to latch on to Monsieur Jean as something a bit special. These are the stories of a frustrated twenty-something (then thirty-something) Parisian writer as he tries to steer a course through modern life. They should strike a chord with anyone who has struggled to understand the opposite sex, been perplexed by their friends or wondered how to be a good parent. Do you know anyone like that?

Plenty of humour, moments of pathos, and lots of sitting in cafés with self-doubt and small cups of coffee. France in a book! But available in English too.

  

Rébétiko (La Mauvaise Herbe) by David Prudhomme

When I first read Rébétiko, I thought it was nothing less than the best graphic novel I’d ever seen. Even now, having discovered some real treasures, I still think this is the case. The book feels drawn in a way few graphic novels do, as if it was taped together from fragments torn from someone’s sketchbook, and the story (set in hard-line Greece during the 30s) reads like true experience. But the greatest thing in this book is the music. I don’t mean that to sound gimmicky, simply that this tale of musicians, whose music has been proscribed by the state, is shot through with sound, energy and dance. It’s a masterpiece.

I don’t think Rébétiko has been translated into English, but really, you don’t need to read it all. The book would be worth owning just for the art on pages 57 to 66 alone. Get a taste of it here.

Rupestres! by various (see link)

Okay, another French one, but I’m trying to keep this chronological. Rupestres! is the work of six comic book artists as they make a tour of the prehistoric painted caves of Southern France, paying homage to, and trying to connect with, the earliest ‘cartoonists’. The six styles vary wildly, but are tied together by shared experience. The book is based on a real trip (there are some photographs too) and will take you deeper into the mysteries of the prehistoric mind and the origins of art than any textbook on the subject.

Rupestres! isn’t available in English, but again, it’s the graphic statement that really matters. And that’s triumphant. For anyone who cares about drawing.

Hicksville by Dylan Horrocks

Prompted by my good blogging friend Rachel Fenton, I finally got round to reading Hicksville only recently. With a narrative that runs on several levels, through different comic book genres and stories, Hicksville might have been too tricksy for its own good, if it weren’t so full of good humour and humanity. And this tale of artists, searchers and tea-lovers is like an introduction to the world of comics itself, and the lovely people it seems to attract. 

The perfect cure for anyone who thinks comic books are just about superheroes and big-eyed manga girls (*shudder*). And hey, it’s in English:)    

 Nelson by various (see link)

Newly published, Nelson acts as an anthology of contemporary British comic art, and that’s why I bought it. But in just a few pages I found myself drawn into the story of Nel, as she grows up without her twin, Sonny. The constantly changing styles didn’t upset the story as much as I thought, and the journey through Nel’s life is packed with period details and ‘how we used to live’ charm (the music! The hair!). I wish this book had been available while I was still at art school. Grown-up content, but the perfect surprise Christmas gift for anyone who likes telling stories in pictures.

All proceeds go to Shelter.

 

I’m always on the lookout for new books to read. If you’ve read a comic/graphic book recently and want to share it, please leave a note in the comments.