TOKYOPOP will be closing it’s L.A.-based office and leaving the publishing business for good on May 31st, and to commemorate the occasion, Anime Vice asked me to share a few thoughts on my former employer:
Personally, I think the most tragic thing about any of this is that we’ll now never know how Faeries’ Landing ends…
I don’t think I fully realized how big a hole Tokyopop blew in the comic book horizon when they shuttered their original manga program until recently. Say what you will about Tokyopop as a company, it’s hard to argue that for a few years, they created a lot of opportunity for a lot of artists. Thanks to Tokyopop, thousands were exposed to the work of Felipe Smith, Rivkah and M. Alice LeGrow. Popular indie artists like Becky Cloonan, Ross Campbell and Brandon Graham got a boost to their careers, and dozens of unpublished creators received their first break through the Rising Stars of Manga contest.
But more than any of that, Tokyopop embraced a style of art that most other publishers wouldn’t touch—the manga-influenced one. An entire generation of young comic book artists had grown up reading the books that Tokyopop, Viz and Dark Horse had helped bring to the United States and wanted to draw in that sort of style, and for a few years, it actually seemed like they may be able to make a little money doing so.
Then Tokyopop ran into trouble, and the rest of the manga industry soon followed suit. Yen Press has scaled back their original manga plans, Del Rey Manga no longer exists and Viz, if they ever intended to publish original content created in the United States, seemed to have a change of heart. Of course, in so doing, the options for manga-influenced artists were gutted, leaving most to look to web-publishing and self-publishing for getting their comics out there.
Now, I’m not knocking self-publishing or webcomics. If done well, they can pay off handsomely for a talented creator. But they shouldn’t be the only options out there for talented artists. Yet the unfortunate truth is that the majority of western comic book publishers really have no interest in publishing manga-style comic art. And you know what? I really don’t blame the publishers. They aren’t interested in publishing that style of art because it doesn’t sell for them. Of course, the reason it doesn’t sell is entirely due to us, the fans.
Why are we so limited in what we’ll read? I’ve already written about our reluctance to sample anything not published by the Big Two, but we also need to really ask ourselves why we’re so biased against manga-influenced art. I understand why much of the Japanese manga that gets published out here may not be of interest to a reader who isn’t interested in interpreting another culture’s mores and sense of humor just so they can enjoy a comic book. But we’re not talking about Japanese manga here. We’re talking about American comics that just happen to be drawn in a style that’s influenced by Japanese sequential art.
Before I go any further, I should probably make it clear that I’m writing this as someone who was once ridiculously biased against manga. I started at Tokyopop with an inherent love for superheroes and a complete lack of interest in Japanese graphic novels. Had I not landed my job there, it’s unlikely I’d even know what a tankoubon was, let alone actually sat down and read them. It’s also worth mentioning that since leaving Tokyopop, the amount of manga that I’ve read has seriously decreased. There are titles that I enjoy, but when I compare the amount of manga I read each year with the number of western comics, western comics win by a mile.
But I still read Bizenghast. I still read Nightschool. I read Re:Play through to its conclusion (and not just because I was the editor of that series for a while). If I have any interest in the subject matter of a comic, I’ll read it, regardless of the style. So why is it that comics drawn by manga-influenced artists (other than Adam Warren) seem to always struggle to find an audience in the United States?
Unfortunately, I still think there’s a lot of misunderstanding among both readers and publishers. They hear manga and they instantly think of big eyes and flowery backgrounds. The problem is that far too many people still cling to the idea that manga is a style. Manga is not a style. It’s a format, and even within that format there’s a lot of diversity. To say someone is a manga artist is no different than to say they’re a comic book artist. And just like with comic book artists, manga artists can draw in vastly different styles.
Svetlana Chmakova’s manga art is very different from Nam Kim’s. Christy Lijewski’s art looks nothing like Rem’s. All of them are manga-influenced, and not one of them draws characters that look like Sailor Moon. Sure, it’s possible they could adapt their art, make it look more western. Being stylistically diverse isn’t a bad thing, especially if it can get them more paying work. But why should they have to do that if they don’t want to? Why should any talented artist have to?
I should mention that there ARE publishers out there who seem more than happy to hire gifted, unique artists regardless of their style and influence. Thank goodness for Oni Press, First Second and traditional publishers like Penguin. We need more of them. But for that to happen, we first need to be willing to prove to publishers that comics drawn by manga-influenced artists can sell, and that means recognizing that manga isn’t this evil, threatening entity that we must destroy before it absorbs all the shelves at our local comic book shops, but part of the family. Don’t roll your eyes when you hear someone call themselves a manga artist—look at their art. Really look at it. It won’t hurt you, and if you keep an open mind, I can guarantee that there are quite a few manga-influenced artists that you’re going to love.
At New York Comic-Con last month, I was introduced to a ridiculously talented manga-influenced artist. She showed me her latest comic (which she had self-published), and after seeing how skilled she is, I thought about a few of the projects I’m working on that are in need of artists. I asked her if she only drew in a manga style, and she said yes. It was the only way of drawing that she really felt passionate about. I remember looking down at some of the comics in front of me, shaking my head, and telling her that unfortunately, I didn’t have any opportunities for her right now. None of the publishers I’m working with are interested in publishing comics drawn in a manga-influenced style. She smiled and said she understood, and that it’s something she’s heard before.
It’s a conversation I hope to never have again.
I spent last Sunday at the West Hollywood Book Fair, which felt like a real accomplishment this year considering the temperature was well into the triple digits. It was the sort of heat where everyone stops worrying about their appearance and just accepts the fact that they look like they decided to take a shower without soap and without bothering to take off their clothes. The heat was a real problem because not only did it negatively impact attendance, but it also affected the mood of those who did show up. Most people weren’t in the state of mind to leisurely peruse the fair, talking to authors and picking up a book or two if any caught their eye.
This was definitely unfortunate and my sympathy goes to the vendors and authors who experienced less than stellar sales. I just hope they realize that the problem was the heat and not the actual event. And I hope the event organizers realize that the heat is a problem and consider pushing next year’s book fair back a month or two.
And yet, my experience at the fair was largely positive. Yes, I went through about eight bottles of water and looked a complete mess, but I had a chance to catch up with some friends, meet some cool people, have Hope Larson sign my copy of Mercury, and moderate a pretty thorough panel on comic books outside the “Big Three” (though we could never really agree on who the third big publisher was, so we stuck to Marvel and DC). I was actually very pleased with how the panel went, and much gratitude must be extended to my four panelists: Joshua Hale Fialkov, Richard Starkings, Renae Geerlings and Raphael Navarro. Each contributed a fair amount to the discussion and each brought vastly different experiences to the table, which resulted in a really comprehensive discussion on the subject of publishing comics outside the Big Two. There were a few disagreements and differences of opinion, but there was certainly one thing that came up several times. Comic book fans really need to start buying stuff other than Big Two superhero books.
You know, I’m a lifelong superhero fan, and that’s never going to change. I’ve seen just about every superhero movie opening week in the movie theater and that will probably continue until my dying day. I still enjoy a great superhero story and although it seems to be a losing battle, I really do try to keep up with most of the Batman titles. But I reached a point in my life when I’d had enough and stopped buying 98% of the superhero titles that I had been buying. The reason for my decision was a key point in our discussion on Sunday: Marvel and DC no longer care about doing what’s creatively best for their properties. Instead, their interest is in leveraging them for all they’re worth. All the major characters (including my boy Bruce Wayne) have numerous monthly titles, along with multiple miniseries, one-shots and crossovers that come out each year. Forget about whether people actually want that much Aquaman in their lives, it’s there, spread across comic shop shelves and crowding out smaller independent and creator-owned titles. But that’s not even my point here. Let’s look at what such a glut does to the character.
Look at the recent YA fiction trend. Do you want to know why series like Harry Potter, Twilight and The Hunger Games are going to be read decades from now? And why books like Hatchet, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Ender’s Game and His Dark Materials continue to be read by readers of all ages years after their publication? It’s because all of those series were limited. The authors had a clear story in mind, and they stuck to that. And from the very start, I can guarantee you that they knew their story had an end.
Could J.K. Rowling have added to her already ridiculous fortune by franchising Harry Potter and cranking out volume after volume of it? Would a “Tales of the Mockingjay” comic book “written” by Suzanne Collins and scripted by some unknown comic book writer (who actually does all of the work, but shares credit with Collins since her name is the one that will move copies) sell like cupcakes? Does Haymitch like his drink?
There’s no doubt the above projects would sell, but the true cost would be the value of the original source material. And yes, this is coming from a guy who edits Fraggle Rock comics. (Which I don’t feel makes my statement at all hypocritical. Fraggle Rock was a TV show. It’s designed to be episodic. Most fiction isn’t and I think it loses much of its relevance when it’s designed to be.)
We can argue that properties can be put through a lot before they lose their literary significance. Certainly Sherlock Holmes remains as important a literary figure as ever, despite having survived not only four novels and 56 short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but countless film and TV adaptations. But even the strongest characters—and the most iconic superheroes are as strong as they come—can only withstand so much. Superman will celebrate his 80th Anniversary in two years. That’s 80 years of continuous publication, not to mention the radio and movie serials, the numerous TV shows and movies and quite a few novelizations. How many stories can there really be to tell with the character? And more to the point, would DC honestly let them be told? Only if whatever impact they may have on the universe can be reversible or described away by some space-time anomaly or reality-altering superweapon or some other convenient plot device created to maintain the status quo. Anyone who reads comic books for any length of time knows that nothing really changes in them. Not for long. Eventually, the dead are brought back and the supervillains are released from prison.
That, my friends, is the very essence of disposable entertainment, and that’s why comics and graphic novels as a medium continue to be so readily dismissed by so many adult readers. Ask yourself, how the prose novel would look if its flagship titles were The Babysitters Club, the ongoing work of V.C. Andrews and ever popular Star Wars and Star Trek novelizations? There are many readers who look at comics much the same way, and while it would be easy to dismiss them as ignorant (an assessment that isn’t without some truth), it’s an ignorance that we helped perpetuate.
Look, I’m not saying we should stop publishing all superhero books. There are some good ones out there. Let’s just stick to publishing those ones. The truly good ones. The Batman and Robins. The Invincibles. The ones that really stand out and get people talking. And when the writers of the projects decide they’re done, end the fucking things. Keep Batman on ice until another brilliant idea comes around.
There’s nothing wrong with disposable entertainment. But when it gets to the point that it’s defining a whole medium and quality projects are suffering and struggling to find an audience as a result, then it’s getting a little out of hand. And I’m afraid that’s where we are right now.
And for once, it’s not going to take a superhero to save us.
So Scott Pilgrim bombed…?
You know, I can’t really say I’m surprised. After the perceived failure of Kick-Ass earlier this year, I figured the equally quirky and unique Scott Pilgrim would also be doomed to cult status. I have friends at Oni Press and great respect for Bryan Lee O’Malley, so I kept those thoughts largely to myself lest I be seen as a faith-lacking naysayer, but I gotta be honest…I saw this coming.
And I have a pretty good idea what’s coming next. After the underperformance of so many comic book movies based on lesser known titles this year (in addition to Scott Pilgrim and Kick-Ass, we also had The Losers and Jonah Hex…we’re yet to see how Red performs, which releases next month), Hollywood’s going to start losing interest in any graphic novel title that isn’t Batman, Superman or Spider-Man. At least until one of studios down the line takes a risk and manages to turn a profit adapting one of them, and then the cycle will gradually start all over again.
I have no doubt the comic book blogs and discussion boards are going to have a field day with this over the course of the week, pointing out that moviegoers prefer their comic book flicks old fashioned and comfortable rather than challenging, stylish, deconstructive or satirical. I’ll let them handle that discussion. To me, what’s more interesting is that they feel a need for the discussion in the first place. When it comes to popcorn flicks, dumb and formulaic always wins out. And I say that as someone who often enjoys the hell out of dumb and formulaic movies. When I want to see stuff blow up on screen accompanied by predictable twists and familiar dialogue, it really doesn’t matter if the source material is a comic book, an animated series, an old TV show or movie, or an original story.
In fact, it doesn’t even matter if it’s based on a bestselling novel. The Road was based on a Pulitzer Prize-winning, Oprah Winfrey-endorsed Cormac McCarthy book, and it grossed less domestically in its entire run than Scott Pilgrim grossed this weekend. The Kite Runner made just a little more than $15 million despite an awards push from its distributor, while Everything is Illuminated grossed less than $2 million. When you look at the numbers, you see that moviegoers don’t strictly ignore movies based on acclaimed graphic novels, they’re just as keen to ignore ones based on highly praised novels as well. (And I do find it amusing that no one questions the validity of prose novels as cinematic source material when a movie based on a book bombs. I’m not sure why that spotlight is currently directed at comics.)
The problem isn’t with the source material and it’s not with the medium it was derived from. The problem is the audience, and Hollywood’s continual inability to understand what they respond to. Readers react to different things than filmgoers. They’re drawn to different material. And it’s really not that difficult to figure out when a novel has film potential—it reads like a movie. Harry Potter is remarkably visual and cinematic, The Da Vinci Code all but includes slug lines, Michael Crichton used to work as a screenwriter and director, and his books read like they were written by someone envisioning them on the big screen. And of course, comic books like Iron Man and The Avengers are all really visual.
Maybe that’s where the problem lies. Maybe studio execs, who have been so blinded by dollar signs I think their vision may have degraded to the point where actual reading is impossible, hear the words “comic book” and assume that what they’re optioning is ready made for the big screen. After all, comic book pages are kinda like storyboards, right?
Well, Scott Pilgrim doesn’t read like a movie. It reads like a comic book. And judging by the comic’s current placement on Amazon and the New York Times Graphic Novel list, that’s the way most people out there would prefer to experience it.
That said, did any of you see the movie? What did you think? I’m particularly curious about anyone who hasn’t read the comic book, or possibly went to see it unaware that it was based on one.
An artist I know recently commented on Twitter about how she’s never sure how to respond when people remark that she’s lucky to be doing what she loves because the reality is that she’s worked really hard to get there. I’m paraphrasing her considerably, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t read my blog, but all the same, I understand where she’s coming from. The notion that those of us who have succeeded in comics, film, fiction, music, professional sports or any other career that many others aspire to have found success through luck alone is false. No one scratches off a lotto ticket to reveal three matching “acting career” stamps. That’s not how it works.
However, to deny that luck plays a part in it is equally false. At the risk of minimalizing the importance of hard work in any career, particularly one in entertainment, I’d suggest that to look only at work and determination as the keys to a successful career may be to miss the point. Frankly, there are a lot of hard workers out there in every line of work. My very first job was stocking pharmacy shelves at my local Walmart, and in my life, I have never seen harder workers than some of the people who helped maintain that store. And as someone who’s also worked full time writing copy for a dental marketing company, I can attest that I worked just as hard at scripting the ads, e-blasts, trade articles and other marketing material that I was responsible for as I do at editing, writing, developing or pitching comics. Success in any career is rarely achieved without a lot of hard work, whether we’re talking retail, foodservice, sales, teaching…or drawing or writing comics. Hard work is not what sets those people working so-called desirable jobs apart from those people toiling away in retail or punching a clock in a warehouse.
So what is?
Well, it’s not one single thing. Freedom plays a big part of it. I worked with a very talented artist when I was editing at Tokyopop who was forced to take on a full-time retail job right at the time I managed to get him approved to draw an original graphic novel series scripted by two of the most well-known names in comic books today. You couldn’t choose a better first project if you’re a fledgling comic book artist, but unfortunately, his living situation dictated that he bring home a certain amount of money per month, and our advance didn’t cover it. And while we tried working around his day job, it simply took up too much time for him to produce pages at a decent pace. I had no choice but to replace him with someone else.
Freedom to work toward your desired career is a luxury that not everyone has. Neither is talent. I love what I do for a living, but if I’m to be completely honest with you (and am I ever anything but?), as a child and teenager, I wanted a career in music. However, my sense of rhythm is pathetic and my ability to write and think lyrically is atrocious. I’m not saying these aren’t skills I could have developed over time, but they didn’t come naturally to me and it likely would’ve taken me years of study and practice to develop them. Yes, this is where that hard work comes in, and I’m a firm believer that no career is unobtainable for anyone—but there are certainly some people out there who are going to have a much easier time obtaining it. Realizing this and realizing that I had true talents in other areas, I decided it would be better for me to pursue another career. I could’ve easily made the other choice, but I’ll tell yah, if I’d had any musical talent whatsoever, there wouldn’t have been any decision to make at all. Talent certainly isn’t everything…but it helps.
It also helps if you’re not hurting for money. While not every actor, musician, artist, writer or athlete is formally trained, many of them are and colleges—particularly art schools—aren’t cheap. Yes, many qualify for scholarships, but for those who don’t, you either need deep pockets, parents with deep pockets, or a steel stomach when it comes to racking up debt. Combine that with the cost of starting a career. Musicians have instruments to invest in. Artists have art supplies. Actors have head shots and agents. Not to mention the cost of going to auditions, attending conventions to meet with editors, renting a van to go on tour… Any business has startup costs, and those of us fortunate enough to be working in entertainment are essentially running our own businesses.
There’s more we could go into. When you really think of it, there are probably thousands of contributing factors. But getting even these three to line up in your favor is a challenge. Not everyone has the freedom to pursue a more challenging career path, the talent to help you stand out and move forward in your career and the opportunity and capital necessary to get you off to a great start. We have a word for those people out there who do—lucky.