Comic Book Punks: How a Generation of Brits Reinvented Pop Culture

Does What it Says on the TinThe fact that the writers, artists and comic titles covered by this book are not really in my “wheelhouse” is largely my own doing. I was frankly born too soon, making the leap from Tiger to MAD Magazine in the early 60s; but I have tried to sustain a broad knowledge of both British and American comics, so that many of the names and titles in this book are familiar, if not always the content.The cover design proves suitably eye-catching. This work has been well and professionally written by Karl Stock and has been thoroughly researched, with footnotes detailing the source material by a writer who has “been there”. The text appears to have been proofread, never a “given” in the cost-conscious 21st Century. Chapters are organised into categories, sometimes resulting in a seemingly staccato timeline which had me turning back and forth to check dates, although this is more or less unavoidable, as the alternative for the author – strict chronological order – would probably have had its own demerits.[Possible spoilers throughout: the following comments are intended to be constructive, and usually pertain to the source material rather than to Karl’s writing. Names mentioned are in the book unless otherwise stated. RIP to all those no longer with us, including those who passed at the time of reading and writing.]Some readers have pointed out that this is the second recent book on comics to be devoid of images with examples of the art which it is discussing. I found myself cross-checking with David Roach’s ‘Masters of Comic Book Art’. All of the artists passed the test, though, their images standing up to comparison in a field where the bar had been set very high by British, American and Continental illustrators.On the writing and idea generation, the jury’s out because, again, I haven’t read enough of the subject matter. I have more in common with what some in the book call “the old guard”, one of whom criticised The Jam’s ‘Going Underground’ – not a great move in the 80s. A lot of this stuff chimes, though. There is nothing that quite matches the satisfaction of drawing cartoons with a “schoolboy fountain pen”, nor the sinking feeling when our comic pages jammed the office photocopier on night shift.From the 60s, the British reprints of Marvel comics didn’t tempt me, but only because I’d already enjoyed the coloured US versions of exemplary art by Colan, Steranko, Romita Sr, Buscema and co. I recall experiencing Barry Smith’s debut on Daredevil, which looked, let’s say, “different” from his outstanding later stint on Conan. (As regards DC’s “Silver Age” in the 60s, they seemed to have strong characters like Batman, but not very well used.)On both sides of the Atlantic, the comics Venn diagram has a large overlap with monsters, aliens et al. One quoted editor is no fan of the horror genre; while I don’t feel that strongly, I am not a natural fan of tyrannosaurs, vampires, giant ants, grisly mutants or time-travelling cowboys, all set in the dystopian US future of a post-apocalyptic earth. (A main likeable aspect of Dredd was that he was urban-based, but here we find him tackling a plague of werewolves.) There’s a tendency to refer to everything from Star Wars forward as science fiction, when I’d call most of this science fantasy, space fiction or "space opera".Perhaps I should have attended more marts and conventions, but wouldn’t have taken to the fancy-dress parades. Among names in the book, my uncle lived opposite Frank Bellamy in Kettering. I’ve encountered Baxendale, Higgs and Emerson by phone in the 70s, plus Paul Gravett face-to-face in the 80s and Jon Davidge in the 90s, though almost all would struggle to recall me. While I lived in the “steel town of Corby”, this was before Alan Davis found fame. Long-ago replies to my letters from Raymond Briggs, Roger Dean and Mark Rodgers nestle in files. I met Bob Paynter once at King’s Reach in 1977, and he rightly told me to look at some current comics. I did, but never went back, pitching to British MAD instead as a writer-artist during its latter (1978-1994) period. Of them all, I probably knew Denis Gifford best, on and off, since helping him begin the Association of Comics Enthusiasts in 1978."Dennis Potter… the Prisoner” and “Monty Python” were “punk", one writer tells us; although I’m not so sure. There’s a lot of harking back by all ages: ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ to the 50s, and ‘Revolver’ to the 60s, one of numerous references to the Beatles. Influences quoted include Kafka, Kipling, Wilde, Kerouac and multiple references to Carroll’s Alice; “proper” SF from Bradbury, Ellison and Lovecraft; plus comics from Eisner, Kirby and Hampson. “Shoulders of giants”, yes, but some of the references were dated, even by the 1960s, including John Wayne, Fred Astaire, George Formby, the Lone Ranger and Diana Dors (yes, at least two of these inspired singles in the 80s). I get it, though. It’s an iconoclastic attitude we’re talking about, rather than dates or music. Respect for Pete Milligan’s view that something that feels cool from the inside may not necessarily be equally regarded, objectively.There are a couple of howlers, including “EC Comics’ founder Harvey Kurtzman”, but these come from quoted lines rather than from the author. We learn of "the full history of British comics from Leo Baxendale onwards”. Shouldn’t that be “from Tom Browne”, or even earlier? This book mentions Baxendale half a dozen times and seems to believe Leo’s own publicity. While it’s understood that he and Ken Reid were more intrinsic to London comics, post-Thomson, this is the second recent book that declines even to namecheck Dundee’s David Law, whose Dennis the Menace is as much a household name, arguably more, than any UK character in this book; and was himself a strong influence on Baxendale’s work.MAD – a magazine rather than a comic - gets surprisingly well-aired, to the extent that an unversed reader might assume it was a British title. The mentioned films spoofs that seemed to upset director Kubrick and others were original American material, as were many of the film spoof covers. Steve Parkhouse and Brian Lewis (mentioned), plus Alf Saporito (unmentioned) were among those providing British covers under Dez Skinn, more of a film buff than the editors either side of him; as did Will Simpson, later, who also illustrated one of my scripts before I realised his fairly high profile. The biggest omission is Harry North, the only artist to contribute material to both US and British versions of MAD, who had drawn for Look-In and others, worked on Goscinny’s French titles and won a Premio Gran Guinigi at Lucca in 1978.The book includes five references to Ralph Steadman, his links to Hunter S. Thompson presumably being a catalyst. William Burroughs’s "cut up" technique is popular among the writers; this was used by David Bowie in writing lyrics for ‘Life on Mars’, etc. as far back as 1971. The Waugh spoof in ‘Tharg's Head Revisited’ and the Sergio Leone parody in ‘For a Few Troubles More’ were perhaps lost on some of the comic audience at the time.I don’t think comics’ “Golden Age”, in terms of sales, was as stated by one of the artists; and, when based upon content, would differ according to whoever is speaking. I lost count of the number of times that titles had experienced modest runs, putting it kindly, but were fondly remembered or influential: yes, but mainly within the comics sphere. Agreed, Si Spencer, that an interest magazine like ‘Total Carp’ (pun intended) sells far more than the average comic-related publication. A writing team comparing themselves to Galton and Simpson is a little self-congratulatory, as is "It's who I am, like Sean Connery and James Bond".Comics are “a medium, like TV or film," says one name, but I’m not so sure. Most onlookers might regard comics as one division of printed media. Despite its “day in the sun”, the comics field remains esoteric, as evidenced by the lauding of Neil Tennant’s early work in British comics (i.e. generally, but also covered in the book). Balanced against this, I respect Grant Morrison’s tirade on page 267. "The 1990s [was] the decade when British youth culture was culture," offers one writer: John Major, “Cool Britannia”, the Gulf War, Geri Halliwell’s dress and "The look of Mark Owen from Take That"? Again, I’m not sure.Enough – these are merely observations. I encourage comic fans to read this book, which “does what is says on the tin”, very well – better than I could.Other notes:- While newspaper strips are a separate genre, this book mentions Peter O’Donnell but not his excellent partner-in-crime Jim Holdaway, who also drew for comics.- Stan Lee was right that Captain Britain was a too-deliberate attempt at a British superhero, the irony being that the character who best achieved this, Judge Dredd, plies his trade in a fictional USA.- I was taken aback in a Leicester comic ship in the 90s, when the owner’s wife seemed to think that there were no comics other than Dr Who.- Dave Berg’s portrayal of DC suprema Jenette Kahn shows troll dolls ranged around the perimeter of her desk.- Fleetway merged with London Editions (ironically based in Manchester) in the 90s, to form Fleetway Editions: note which half of the name got dropped.- DC entertaining at the Dorchester reminds me that when one of their International Business team stayed at London's Landmark hotel in the early 21st Century, it proved so expensive that she was crossing to Marylebone station to buy food.- Chapter 19: I don’t believe there was an ‘adult humour boom’: it was simply VIZ which was, and remains, a one-off.- Moore, Morrison, Gibbons, Ewins and Dillon would probably agree that Robert Crumb – iconic since the 60s – became “legendary” before they did.