Introduction

When you hear the term "comic books," your first thought might be of brightly-colored superheroes flying through the skies, swooping down from time to time to right wrongs, stave off alien invasions, or head off a crisis that threatens to extend itself into infinity.

Certainly in North America from, say, 1961 until 1980, that's pretty much what comics were. Non-superhero comics were mostly the sort of underground comics that were sold in head shops, and therefore were bought primarily by members of the counter-culture.

That all began to change in the early 1980s, though. Underground cartoonists like R. Crumb, Jack Jackson and others began to become more well-known to the general public, and an entire generation of great comics creators broke through in a part of the comics artform that was neither "underground" or superhero comics. Titles like Cerebus, Love and Rockets and The First Kingdom proved there was a market for alternative comics, and there soon followed a flood of inventive, high-quality second-generation art comics like Eightball, The Acme Novelty Library, Optic Nerve and many others.

I like to call them "artcomix," because of their obvious ties to the underground comix of the 1960s and '70s, some call them alternative comics (which can be confusing because there's a publisher called Alternative Comics), and the graphic novel revolution of the past decade most definitely owes a debt to artcomix creators as well, since a large part of the publicity these comics have received in recent history has been for such artcomix titles as Maus, Jimmy Corrigan and other titles that owe little debt to the traditions of superhero comics, and that in fact are created by grown-ups for grown-ups.

All this week I'm going to highlight books by publishers of -- whatever you choose to call them, be it artcomix, alternative comics, graphic novels, take your pick -- it doesn't matter what you call them, it only matters that you read them, because if you love comics, I guarantee that the titles I'll be telling you about here will blow your mind, and if you've never ventured into the deep waters of the sea of artcomix before, you'll come away from this journey with a whole new view of what comics can be.

5 Great Graphic Novels from Fantagraphics Books

The Three Paradoxes -- There are comics about what it feels like to be alive, and there are comics about comics. The Three Paradoxes by Paul Hornschemeier is both of these at once. You can see the cartoonist's fascination with the process of creating comics right on the wraparound cover, seven distinct panels playing with time, mood, and perception. Further investigation of the dustcover -- that is to say, taking it off -- further uncovers Hornschemeier's techniques, as the hardcover beneath the dustcover rolls back time to an earlier, unfinished, blue-pencil and ink version of the cover. It could just be a talented book designer having fun with his newest project, or it could be a statement about his intentions for the work and its effect on the reader. Or, it could be both, and probably is. The story is about a young artist named Paul who visits his parents while he works on some comics and prepares for a first meeting with a woman he met online. It sounds much simpler than it is, though, as Hornschemeier weaves all his above-mentioned obsessions -- time, mood, perception, comics -- into a rich, rewarding tapestry that makes The Three Paradoxes his finest, most complete and forward-looking work to date. 

Palomar --A massive hardcover collecting decades of stories about a woman named Luba and her friends, enemies and family members. The ultimate achievement of Palomar (which is the name of the village they live in) as a collection is that having all these stories together, in order, after decades of serialization, truly feels like coming home. Palomar is a fitting monument to the decades Gilbert Hernandez has spent creating his stories. Palomar is not a single story, although it feels that way by the end. It is composed of almost a dozen smaller tales broken down further into chapters, each of which showcases on a specific set of characters at a specific time in the village's history. Themes and events recur and resonate, revelations come sometimes subtly, sometimes with the impact of a hammer to the head. Like a symphony in ink and paper, Palomar dazzles with its deft variations between the large and the small, the quiet and the loud, the beautiful and the hideous. It's about lives lived, not always well, but always with passion, hope, and a sense of humour.The people of the village of Palomar become real through these stories. Like other great literature, once you close the book, you find yourself wondering what they're doing now, what has become of the families and friends and rivals and enemies of this legendary little place with its strange statues, fried slugs and defiant, one-armed children. The good news is, there's more stories out there waiting to be collected. After reading this volume, you'll be hungry for more.

Abandoned Cars -- "The Great American Mythological Drama" is laid bare in Tim Lane's debut graphic novel. The book brought to mind my childhood memories of family trips that smell of cheap diesel fuel at roadside truck stops. Those memories are painted in the gaudy primary colours of worn-out convenience stores, and there's a peeling South of the Border bumper sticker slapped on them.Abandoned Cars is a thrilling evocation of such places, and of a time that never was and is always 20 years ago. You'll find  Elvis, old cars, beat-up diners and sleazy bars. Lost loves, hobos, boxcars and crushing regret. Almost-pretty girls using every drop of their sexual power for the brief season they possess (and are possessed by) it. Lane's America has gone to seed. Its better days are far behind it, a promise that seemed always on the horizon until one day we noticed it was long, long past. Irretrievable; gone, baby. There's a little bit of the feel of EC Comics to Abandoned Cars; I can't help but think that if Harvey Kurtzman had been at the top of his creative power right now instead of when he was editing Two-Fisted Tales and Frontline Combat, he would have admired the hell out of Tim Lane's work and dedication to a single subject.

Bottomless Belly Button -- Dash Shaw's mammoth graphic novel is a sweeping tapestry of a family in crisis. It's sad, it's thoughtful, it's dirty and funny and hesitant and right in your face. It's about the adult children of a divorcing couple gathering at their parents' beachside home to come to grips with reality and with each other.  Bottomless Belly Button is loose but fully-formed, rambling but always aware of its destination. For every discrete moment -- Peter's awkward first date, Jill's humiliating experience with her friend's boyfriend, or dad being given a bath -- Shaw is in complete, if intangible, control of where the Loony family is going. The events at the beach house unfold with the natural rhythm of real life, with all the digressions and messes that implies. And most gratifyingly, Shaw is content to let us learn to like all of these people. Some are weirder than others, or more uptight, or more distant, but each is human and alive and entitled to some measure of understanding, and Shaw utilizes the length of the book to give us access to the hidden corners every one of his characters possesses. The drawing itself is impossible to separate from the narrative -- Shaw's line is powerfully emotive and organic, simple when it needs to be but sometimes detailed and diagrammatic. Lists sometimes drop in and out of the reading, like an obsessive cataloging of types of water or sand, such as a troubled child might keep as a distraction from ongoing turmoil.

Ghost World --The story begins with teenagers Enid and Rebecca hanging out in Rebecca's bedroom. The two of them are opposites. Enid is a somewhat homely, self-conscious, wiseass hipster, while Rebecca is "a skinny blond WASP -- what every guy wants," to quote Enid. The two girls are best friends, know all of each other's secrets, and seem to hold everyone and everything around them in equal contempt. You can see, though, that Rebecca maybe wants to fit in just a little more than Enid does; Enid criticizes Rebecca for having a copy of Sassy magazine in her room. They share a fascination and obsession with weirdos and freaks, for example, the pair of Satanists that they see eating at the same diner every day. Or the Don Knotts lookalike who secretly theorizes about the Satanists and shares his theories with the girls. But Enid's interest in the strange corners of the world runs far deeper than Rebecca's, for reasons that soon become clear. Ghost World at its heart (and it has a big one, despite the hipster atmosphere) is about nothing more or less than the relationship between these two teenage girls. How they get along, how they fight, how they relate to each other -- and of course, how they drift apart. There are some very comic moments, but the story is grounded in the melancholy of everyday life. Clowes writes and illustrates it masterfully, and I recommend Ghost World to anyone who enjoys stories that genuinely and with heart reflect what it is to be human.

Next: 5 Great Graphic Novels from Top Shelf Productions