Editor’s note: I think I’m going to have to put her on staff.

In preparing to table at the Boston Zine Fair next month and in trying to more closely consider my current webcomics reading as part of this ongoing series, I’ve spent some time thinking about the relationships between minicomics and webcomics. This is also kind of tied in with continuing to think about David Malki !‘s recent article (we disagree; I don’t think an association with comics or comix is the death knell of webcomics, by any means. I’m still parsing through the particulars of what and why, though, so some of this piece is going to feel like thinking-out-loud). So I thought it might be worth considering minicomics and webcomics, which feel a little more closely related, maybe, than “comic booksâ€? or “comic book cultureâ€? with all their negative connotations (even though considering “comic stripsâ€? and “webcomicsâ€? might also be an interesting parallel).

Obviously there are certain, immediate similarities between the two. Both can be very cheap for readers to access. Both are—for the most part — free of publishing strictures (quick, nobody think “Patriot Act!â€?). Though webcomics seem generally easier to get than minicomics (even with having to remember to click onto the page for updates), that isn’t a hard and fast rule, and though webcomics may be more immediate in their readers’ responses, audience participation is not a “characteristic native to the Internetâ€? as evidenced by the sheer numbers of folks creating their own minicomics and zines, letters back and forth between creators, collaborations, and so forth. It’s slower, but it’s still there.

In all honesty, I have a great love of minicomics as well as zines. I’ve been publishing one since 1995, and am involved in a number of other projects, like reviewing for these folks. I also have a great love of paper, as previously established, and I’m kind of an indie comix geek (I wrote a dissertation about comix; it doesn’t get too much geekier than that), though, like Malki ! I’m not a fan of the negative aspects of “comics culture� (Who is, really? We all laugh a little too self-referentially at the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, right?). And I don’t think of webcomics and minicomics as so radically different from one another that a new, separate word that doesn’t have “comics� in it warrants coining to replace webcomics.

That said, I was pretty excited to find this fact while poking around the internet, because it sort of parallels my experience — it’s comics that got me into webcomics, not the other way around. (Still, there must be readers who do have that experience of reading webcomics and then getting into print-only comics. Or getting into webcomics which are then only made available in limited ways, like book collections, such as Mom’s Cancer). But I’m also really into certain webcomics, even though the actual reading itself is so different from reading minicomics. There’s a whole lot of webcomics out there, the same way there are loads of minicomics and zines. Minicomics are, in many ways, kind of a subdivision within zines, which have their own long, storied history.

Like comics do. And that’s a history to which, I think, webcomics refer, however indirectly or inadvertently. David Malki !’s recent article notwithstanding, I think severing webcomics from “comicsâ€? in general isn’t possible right now. Maybe in the future, when we’re two generations in to those readers who, y’know, grew up online, but not now. Webcomics are still kind of new-ish, in the proverbial big picture (maybe in their awkward teen years?), and “comicsâ€? (in all its permutations) have not always been regarded as illiterate kiddie fare (and, by the way, isn’t this a decidedly American sentiment?), and the cultural worth of “comicsâ€? has arguably risen in recent years. Webcomics, by many accounts, if I’m getting my history right, first started gaining force in early 2000 or so, even though many webcomics appeared online long before that date (I mean, ten years of Goats?!), and if we’re using the most open definition possible — a description of the delivery system only, with nothing to do with the content — surely there are others earlier even than 1986. Right?

And no, I’m not talking exclusively about Watchmen here, but it isn’t a bad book, and, like the other books usually uttered in the same breath — Maus and Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, functions fairly well as a gateway drug for showing folks that there’s more to comics than comic strips or the stuff in the spin rack at the drugstore. Arguably, webcomics can do something similar, perhaps in part due to some of that immediacy we just talking about.

Like I said, I’m still thinking through this stuff….

Anne, how do you feel about occasionally-free beer?

Editor’s note: Another guest piece from Anne Thalheimer; she’s continuing her explorations through webcomics, bringing a newbie’s eye to all and sundry. You can submit these too, you know. Contact link is over there to the right.

Now, I like writing critical pieces as much as the next person, and, as I’ve said before, I’m a little new to the webcomix party. So I thought I’d alternate the more critical pieces with something a little more, well, fannish. I’m trying to read widely in the field (so, you know, feel free to point me in the direction of one of your favorites if you want; I’m open to reading suggestions).

I’ve made mention of some of my favorites in earlier columns, like Natalie Dee and Exploding Dog and, of course, this. I’m a fan of Cat and Girl, which I first read in minicomics form, not on the web (it’s weird to be admitting that being a comix geek kind of turned me on to webcomix in the first place, especially in still thinking through David Malki !’s recent article.

I have a few webcomics that I read on a regular basis; I started out reading Overcompensating because I’m a bit of a fan of the autobio. Even if it’s fake. Or kinda fake. Hell, he draws tattoos on his comic self the same way I draw mine on me! Then I got sucked into reading Diesel Sweeties, which I like (especially in airports), in large part because of the weird titles that R Stevens uses for each of the installments. (Full disclosure: these two work down the hall from me and made my company’s wacky holiday party way more entertaining, so I’ll probably always be nice when I write about ‘em).

But when I think of Diesel Sweeties, I think of t-shirts. In an earlier column I advocated supporting the webcomics you read by buying merch (or sending fun party favors), and so I naturally thought of the only other webcomic whose t-shirt I’ve bought: John Allison’s lovely little Scary Go Round. It’s one of my current most favorite things online as well as from Old Blighty (other favorites in that category being Ribena, chocolate vending machines in tube stations, and my friend Lesley).

Scary Go Round is one of the few multi-panel webcomics where I can read loads of the archives and not feel like my brain’s been sucked out through my eyesockets. Part of this is no doubt because I find that the art and the text are both really compelling; vivid, unique art with grand coloring and catchy dialogue (snappy English-isms! Yeah!. I want to keep checking in to see what happens to the characters — the pacing’s perfect and the narrative’s delightfully weird. I’ve been thinking about the folks who report problems forgetting to click and check in on updates of their favorite webcomics; Scary Go Round just isn’t one of those for me. It’s actually one of those webcomics where I linger, looking at the background details (the posters, for example, in the background are especially nice touches). I’m still working through all of the chapters, but I fully intend to make good and read the whole thing. It’s also interesting to see the difference between the work that’s hand-drawn and the work that’s done on the Wacom tablet, since I find the hand-drawn work more visually captivating. One of these days I’ll just suck up the shellacking the US dollar is taking and buy one of his books, because I’d just love to see how Scary Go Round looks in print.

In addition, the website also has a hugely amusing “aboutâ€? section (called “the true truth”) as well as this little gem from the Extras section — you have to admit he’s got killer taste in music).

And I love my t-shirt (& just for you, Mr Lowrey, it’s bloody great!).

Fleen thanks Anne once again for her contribution. Hey, am I the only one that sees a girlfight of Wgnerian proportions coming? Wicked Bob has bewitched both Dark Esther (who has a mean right) and the formerly mini-Winters (who has a five-star gun show and a temper to match); once great friends, they’re now at each other’s throats due to malevolent forces and love of The Boy. Add in a little Armageddon, and nothing good can come of this — except more great storytelling. Also! Remember when I said that Esther had the sweetest smile? Her sorrow here absolutely breaks my heart — Allison’s ability to express emotions continues to astound.

Editor’s note: Fleen Guest Columns are still cranking along, with Anne Thalheimer deciding to wade into our little kiddiepool of opinion and spite for another go-round. If you want to get in on the fun, email me (that would be Gary) at a domain that is named very similarly to this here blog. Thank you, and drive safely.

In sifting through the range of comments from my previous column, which went from informative to snarcastic (thank you, Dan) to just plain weird pretty quickly, one comment in particular seemed especially prescient for what I’d planned for this second column. It stated that experiencing something was, in the poster’s opinion, a much more important endeavor than defining or debating the parameters of the work in question.

Arguably, the way in which someone experiences anything is influenced not just by the context in which it is experienced but also by the person in question (potentially considerable as the sum total of prior experiences) who is experiencing it. An important and unique part of experiencing a work is the individual connections you make, the things you think, which ultimately influence how you react to the thing in question. What if those things—experiencing something and defining what things about it make that experience what it is–aren’t mutually exclusive?

Though this situation isn’t specific to webcomics, I’d like to bring it to bear on a general consideration of webcomics reading. To this end, I decided to use one of my recent favorites, Bryant Paul Johnson’s Teaching Baby Paranoia (henceforth TBP; lazy academic’s prerogative), as a virtual lab rat.
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Editor’s note: This is the first of the Fleen Guest Columns; this came about because we were put in touch with Anne Thalheimer, who has some interesting views on comics, art & suchlike, and was amenable to writing them up for us.

Anne, by the way, has studied comics at the graduate level, written a book on gender/comics issues, has written on comics for Popmatters, and works in that [web]comics-friendly Mecca of Northampton, MA. Want to join in the fun? Throw us a suggestion, we’ll ask you to send us some copy; just like the Op-Ed page, if it doesn’t require too much fixin’ we’ll run it.

Both Natalie Dee’s work (which she calls “comic art�) and Sam Brown’s (which he calls “stick figure art�) are interesting to me for a number of different reasons. I enjoy the similarities in their visual styles; the simple lines, bold colors, and the “cute� feeling they both evoke. I also like the seeming dissonance between this “cute� look and the fact that Dee’s work often as not is peppered with profanity and Brown’s is, well, there’s monsters and fangs and bloody folks. These are not necessarily bad things; as a reader, I actually find the dissonance they create kind of engaging.

Brown’s work is particularly savvy in this sense, as he creates pieces from titles readers email him, and so you click on the title and the image opens, and you’re left to wonder how a certain title sparked the image that you’re seeing. You see the title, and then the picture, and you’re left to make the connection. Dee’s work does something similar when looking through her archives as sometimes the connection between the image and the title is readily apparent, and sometimes the title itself is what makes me laugh, as it provides a new frame through which to view the work, which shifts how I think about what I’m seeing.

That said, in all the times I’ve seen Natalie Dee’s and Sam Brown’s
work appear on this site, there’s always a comment or two asking, either, Are they webcomics? or, what I think might be the real heart of the question, Are they comics?
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