Durante más de 25 años, héroes como Zarpa de Acero, The Spider o el robot Archie han desaparecido del mapa. Pero la Edad de Oro de los cómics británicos está a punto de regresar. Alan Moore (V de Vendetta) recupera el cómic popular inglés con la ayuda de Leah Moore, John Reppion y Shane Oakley . Porque las grandes historias no pueden morir. Recopila la miniserie de seis números publicada originalmente en USA en 2006.
Alan Moore is an English writer most famous for his influential work in comics, including the acclaimed graphic novels Watchmen, V for Vendetta and From Hell. He has also written a novel, Voice of the Fire, and performs "workings" (one-off performance art/spoken word pieces) with The Moon and Serpent Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels, some of which have been released on CD.
As a comics writer, Moore is notable for being one of the first writers to apply literary and formalist sensibilities to the mainstream of the medium. As well as including challenging subject matter and adult themes, he brings a wide range of influences to his work, from the literary–authors such as William S. Burroughs, Thomas Pynchon, Robert Anton Wilson and Iain Sinclair; New Wave science fiction writers such as Michael Moorcock; horror writers such as Clive Barker; to the cinematic–filmmakers such as Nicolas Roeg. Influences within comics include Will Eisner, Harvey Kurtzman, Jack Kirby and Bryan Talbot.
This TPB edition collects "Albion" miniseries #1-6.
Creative Team:
Original Plot: Alan Moore
Writers: Leah Moore & John Reppion
Illustrator: Shane Oakley
Covers: Dave Gibbons
Letterer: Todd Klein
BRITISH COMICS TRIBUTE
Albion is very well written by Leah Moore, who is the daughter of Alan Moore, and the story is based on a plot by him.
Also, you have beautiful covers by Dave Gibbons (Watchmen) and having Todd Klein as letterer is a good plus.
Maybe the only downsize is that if you haven't read 60's old British comics (and no, I haven't)...
...you won't get to the fullest all the richness of the characters and their portrait in the story.
Still, you can enjoy (like I did) the concept and certainly it's recommended to any comic book reader willing to expand their knowledge about obscure old comic book characters.
So, indeed I found culturally relevant for any fan of independent comic books and/or material indirectally related to Alan Moore.
It's a sub-par League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Nice to see all the retro Comic references but the artwork is unappealing (not a patch on the splendid Kev O'Neill) and the whole thing has that 'thrown together after an idea at a party' feel. Disappointing.
I liked it, but I felt left out and confused with all the British comics references that weren't explained. I applaud the editors' and contributors' efforts in attempting to help us lazy young Americans understand what was happening between the panels, but I just couldn't love this book like I wanted to.
The plot didn't blow me away, to say the least, and neither did the characters. I imagine that someone familiar with all the comic strips referenced by Moore might enjoy this a whole lot more, but I had to force myself to finish it.
I got a copy of this from the library. Based on a plot by Alan Moore the book is written by his daughter and her husband. It's fairly standard comic book fare but quirky enough to be fun and interesting. The book takes all the heros from early British comics in the 60s and 70s and puts them all in the same world (actually prison) and the book focuses on a geek and one of their daughters breaking everyone out. What this book really illustrates is the difference between American superheros and the strange and odd characters that were around in British comics (which I think was its entire point). While there are remote control robots, brains, super strength, this in no way resembles anything put out by DC or Marvel (though ironically is published by DC). It kinda reminds me of the difference between Misfits and Heros. It was a fun story but one I think would be much more appreciated by people who'd read the original comics. At the end of the comic there were example stories of the original incarnations of the characters from the 60s and 70s. I have to say I almost preferred the original artwork style as it was much more realistic and detailed and much less cartoonish that current comic book art. But it was a fun book amd I hope Leah and John have written more.
Divertida e interesante revisitación de varios comics ingleses de mano de la flia Moore-Reppion. El dibujo en algunas partes parece contrastar con las ideas del guión pero es bastante expresivo y funciona bien la mayoría de las veces. Del guión en sí, lo que menos me convencieron fueron algunos diálogos, aunque quizás la culpa de eso lo tenga la traducción. Cuando lo relea -si puedo, en inglés-, seguro se gane una reseña más elaborada.
This was interesting, but not particularly enjoyable. There's a central problem: the book is based on a premise that is at least partially spoiled if the author communicates to the reader exactly what's needed, context-wise, to understand the story. Act 1 spoilers ahead.
Okay, here's the thing. This comic relies on the vaguely League-of-Extraordinary-Gentlemen-esque premise that all the old 50's and 60's British comic strip characters are real. If they stated that outright, and gave any indication that a little background was needed in terms of certain characters, that would dull the impact of the story for anyone who really grew up with these characters. Which raises the question: who is this for? Anyone that was 8 years old in 1961 is 68 now. Are any of them buying contemporary literary comics?
Also, these characters are ABSOLUTELY unknown in the States. Alan Moore has a pretty sizeable fan-base outside the UK. Now, the editors were nice enough to add an appendix, with a bunch of reprints of old British strips, but there should have been a note in the foreword to read those first. Then again, that may spoil some fun surprises for anyone actually familiar with the source material, so it does make sense that they did it as an appendix, instead. (Perhaps they should have said "If you aren't conversant in sixties British comics, go read the appendix first. Or maybe used footnotes.)
You know how the early League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comics made a certain amount of sense even if you haven't read all the source material, because an average reader knows the characters at least a bit, them being part of our literary zeitgeist? Whereas the latter ones dug really deep, and crammed more references into less space, making the reader REALLY do a lot of leg work to get any impact out of them?
Well this was like a somewhat inferior version (from both a writing and art perspective) of the latter, with the major difference being that the source materials for this one aren't available at the public library, or Amazon, or Gutenberg, and if one found them on eBay, they would pay through the nose. There's a high barrier to entry, here, in terms of following the action, but unlike in LoeG, there's not enough brilliant storytelling to make it worth going down the rabbit hole.
Maybe I need to be a middle-age Brit – who in his youth devoured mid-century comic books produced in the UK -- in order to fully enjoy this nostalgia-tinged “What Ever Happened to…?” retro-comic book epic.* The premise is clever enough: The daughter of one of England’s great comic book heroes goes in search of her father’s former colleagues – all of whom have been in hiding for the past several decades; hence the disbelief that they really exist outside of the printed four-color page. But the execution between writer and artist is, at least to me, lost in translation.
Although the revered Alan Moore provided the original idea, which reminds me of what he did in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series with the premise that the great Victorian fictional characters (Captain Nemo, Mina Harker, and Co.) really did exist, writers Leah Moore and John Reppion have a difficult time not only pacing the plot of their extraordinary adventure, but also providing dialogue that doesn’t get garbled up in dialect. (Cockney has never been as wincingly difficult to read.) Unfortunately, Leah is not her father’s daughter when it comes to writing. And despite the best efforts of penciler Shane Oakley and inker George Freeman, the art – in this case – can’t save a chopped-up and jerky tale. _________________________________
*Which also reminds me my cultural inability to fully appreciate Umberto Eco’s last outing, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Laona, as it gloried in the worlds of the Italian comics of the mid-Twentieth Century.
Enjoyable Romp, but I'm sure I would have enjoyed it more if I could have played "spot the reference" like I can in a book Like "Top 10" or "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen." But I don't have the background in British comic book characters.
Os fãs de banda desenhada costumam dividir as suas lealdades. Por um lado, olham para o golorioso formato comic, de origem americana, com as suas histórias em permanente continuidade mensal. Se bem que aparentemente limitados às histórias tipicamente adolescentes de super-heróis sempre em luta contra abomináveis ameaças, o comic é algo muito mais abrangente, que reúne uma série de experiências clássicas, objectos de culto a roçar o camp (ou então perfeitamente kitsch) e, nos últimos tempos, graças ao surgir da graphic novel, uma forma privilegiada de cruzar literatura com banda desenhada. Por outro lado, temos o formato clássico europeu, auto contido no album de banda desenhada, cujas personagens podem evoluir ao longo de vários albuns, quando muito publicados prancha a prancha em revistas especializadas. Há também aquele toque de guerrilha cultural, com os apologistas da cultura anglo-saxónica (o comic) a degladiarem-se com os sequazes da francofonia (o album). Mas não entremos nesses campos.
De qualquer forma, o simples citar de personagens como Batman, Asterix, Super-Homem, Spirou, Capitão América, Tintin, Liga da Justiça, Passageiros do Vento, Wonder Woman, Jonh DiFool, entre tantos, mas tantos outros possíveis, ressoa até na mente daqueles que não se interessam pela oitava arte. Para os amantes da BD, a memória enche-se de agradáveis recordações de momentos passados mergulhados no mundo quadriculado das páginas, lendo obras que percorriam o espectro do interessante ao divertido. Do policial tenebroso e super-heróico de Batman, dependente sempre da ambiência trágicamente obscura, ao puro surrealismo das aventuras de Jonh Difool na Garagem Hermética. Da iconografia vagamente nacionalista do Capitão América à puerilidade complexa das aventuras do repórter com aquela onda no cabelo, sempre acompanhado pelo fiel Milú (agora falha-me a memória... Milú era cão, ou cadela?), o rigor da reconstituição histórica aliado ao humor de Asterix... enfim, se me pusesse aqui a citar exemplos nunca mais daqui saíria. Por vezes, temos de saber parar.
O mundo da BD não vive desta dicotomia. Se os comics e os albuns são prevalentes, há outras formas de publicar e ler BD. A internet, com os webcomics a misturar a animação com o desenho, a saltar fronteiras, é onde podemos olhar para as experiências contemporâneas e tentar vislumbrar o futuro. No mais clássico meio da obra impressa, os manga são aquele estranho caso de sucesso a recordar que outras culturas têm outras formas de ver a banda desenhada. E depois temos os comics esquecidos, os personagens caídos no esquecimento, as editoras falidas que levaram consigo catálogos de personagens queridos pelos fãs.
Se nos desafiarmos a pensar em personagens de BD, a lista é infindável. Mas se há nomes conhecidos de todos, quem é que se recorda de personagens como Captain Hurricane, Kelly's Eye, The Spider, Robot Archie, Cursitor Doom, Grimly Feendish, Mytek, The Steel Claw? Uma dica: encontrei-os pela primeira vez nos longínquos anos 90, através de uma edição especial do comic britânico 2000 AD (responsável pela continuidade do infame mas divertido Judge Dredd).
A banda desenhada inglesa é bem conhecida, não tanto pelos seus personagens originais (excepção feita ao fascismo futurista de Judge Dredd), mas pelos seus criadores, muitos dos quais a trabalhar para editoras americanas e a criar aí as suas melhores obras. Podemos citar Brian Bolland e Dave McKean como dois ilustradores de excelência, mas a peculiaridade literária da língua inglesa com sotaque britânico catapultou, com mérito próprio, argumentistas como Alan Moore (incontornável), Neil Gaiman (viciante), Warren Ellis (a roçar o escatológico) ou Garth Ennis (escatológico, ponto final) para os píncaros da qualidade literária do género. Quando pegamos em obras com argumento destes autores, sabemos que nos espera sempre uma leitura interessante, viciante, provocadora.
A primeira influência destes autores britânicos, por eles assumida, foram os comics que liam enquanto crianças e adolescentes. Entre o muito que liam, entre as edições importadas dos EUA e as reedições locais da Marvel e DC Comics, liam também as aventuras da bizarra galeria de personagens dos comics britânicos. Com especial incidência nas décadas de 50, 60 e 70, as editoras britânicas apostaram muito na banda desenhada, criando uma galáxia de personagens na altura famosos e amados, mas depressa esquecidos sempre que as antologias de BD deixavam de ser publicadas quando as editoras singravam por caminhos mais lucrativos.
Os comics britânicos dessa época têm qualquer coisa de diferente. São culpados de um certo simplismo, devido não só à temática como também à forma de publicação, em antologias semanais que coligiam aventuras de muitos personagens, forçando os argumentistas a desenvolverem histórias muito curtas. Mas os personagens não se enquadram bem naquela dicotomia bem/mal sempre presente no género. Ou eram, então, simplesmente bizarros. É intrigante ler as aventuras de personagens como Robot Archie (aventuras para rapazes de dois rapazes e o seu british battling robot, The Spider (imaginem um Batman assassino e criminoso, um perfeito anti-herói e a mais marcante personagem da BD britânica), Cursitor Doom (comparável a um tenebroso Dr. Estranho, personagem que se move nos campos místicos), Steel Claw (uma mistura de detective, assassino e agente secreto capaz de se tornar invisível excepto pela sua mão de aço), Kelly's Eye (um homem indestrutível, graças à joia que enverga ao peito, o olho de Zoltec), Captain Hurricane (super-soldado especializado em espancar divisões inteiras de soldados nazis, especialmente se nas garras de uma das suas ragin' furys) ou o estranhíssimo Dolmann (um construtor de marionetas que combatia o crime com as suas marionetas, que graças aos seus dons de ventríloquo dotava de discurso próprio, o que não impedia as marionetas de discutirem com o seu criador ou agir sem o seu conhecimento, pormenor capaz de pôr em causa a sanidade do personagem ou, pelo menos, de quem a criou). Não é o heroísmo nietzschiano à mistura com estranhos poderes do comic americano; não é a puerilidade das aventuras franco-belgas. É algo de bizarro, inquietante, ou outras vezes puramente ridículo.
Tudo isto para introduzir Albion, uma edição da DC Comics que recupera os clássicos personagens britânicos. A intenção é clara, despertar a curiosidade para reedições das bandas desenhadas clássicas ou para novas encarnações dos personagens. Apesar disso, Albion tem o envolvimento de Alan Moore, o que lhe garante alguma qualidade, embora Moore esteja mais envolvido no delinear da história e personagens, ficando o desenvolver da história a cargo da filha, Leah Moore, e de John Reppion. Mais interessante são as ilustrações, modernas e estilizadas, de Shane Oakley e George Freeman. Alan Moore, recorde-se, não é estranho a estes revivalismos: note-se o seu trabalho com o Monstro do Pântano, personagem da DC Comics, para o qual Moore fez reviver inúmeros personagens esquecidos do panteão clássico da DC.
Albion utiliza uma premissa que não é novidade em comics: nos tempos presentes, não existem herois, tendo estes sido perseguidos e detidos, ou então ocultando-se nas margens da sociedade. Albion é uma viagem de descoberta dos velhos personagens, através da busca que a filha de um dos personagens clássicos e um fã incondicional fazem, que os leva à prisão onde estão detidos os heróis e anti-heróis clássicos. Albion passa-se em dois espaços, nas ruas inglesas, onde os verdadeiros heróis das histórias encontram aqueles que se ocultaram do longo braço da lei, e na prisão ultra-secreta onde estão encerrados e esquecidos os velhos heróis. O final termina o livro com uma libertação, quais génios soltos da lâmpada. Desculpem revelar o final, mas vem apenas sublinhar a intenção de reviver estes personagens.
Albion é uma leitura nostálgica, que vale por si só, mas torna-se mais interessante quando contextualiza os personagens na história editorial e ao inclur algumas das histórias clássicas. Leitura recomendada para aqueles que gostam de descobrir coisas novas, ou redescobrir coisas esquecidas.
Bueno... creo que si no fuera por la admiración y cariño que le tiene a Alan Moore le habría dado dos estrellas.
La obra en sí no está mal, retoma conceptos que el autor ya trabajó antes en Watchmen, La Liga de los Hombres Extraordinarios e incluso en Miracle-Man. La diferencia es que en esta ocasión se me escapan todas las referencias tomadas con lo cual mi interés y conocimiento por los personajes es nulo.
Creo que en ese sentido el cómic es bastante deficiente dado que si bien nos explican algunas cosas y nos dejan entrever otras, no se toman el tiempo para desarrollar a los personajes y generarnos algún tipo de empatía con ello. Hay tantos personajes presentes y todos tan poco desarrollados que la acción se confunde completamente haciendo que muchas veces no entendamos que estamos viendo.
Personalmente recién a partir del cuarto número pude engancharme con la historia, y el sexto número que debería ser el climax, me resultó de lo más confuso debido a que estaba todo saturadísimo de acción y de personajes que se me confundían los unos con los otros.
No recomendaría este cómic a nadie. El dibujo es discreto, el argumento repetido y la implementación mejorable.
This was ostensibly about some British comic characters breaking some other characters out of prison. It was a bit like 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen' but I didn't really know any of these characters and so found it a bit difficult to keep up with who was who. I also probably read through a bit quicker than I should have, and art also made the events a bit ambiguous sometimes. I think the dialogue was well done but, not knowing the history of the characters, I didn't get a lot out of it. Perhaps the phrase 'not my cup of tea' is appropriate here.
A re-imagining of all the old IPC characters in a modern, gritty superhero world sounds like fun but turns out to be a bit of a mess. The characters are mostly confined to prison and there's just too many of them, meaning it's quite unfocused. It might have helped if I'd recognised the characters better but the art of was patchy and the writing was of the "Oh, so you're..." vague kind than just naming them as they were. To be fair, the artist does a good job of the modern comics look and pastiching the classic Leo Baxendale or Ken Reid art but doesn't tell the story very well.
Despite Alan Moore's name being front and centre, you quickly discover that he is only responsible for "plotting" this graphic novel; the writing is provided by his daughter Leah and her husband John Reppion, and is nothing like as high quality as you'd expect from a book with Alan Moore's name on it. The characters (revivals of 60s comic staples) were mostly strangers to me too, aside from Faceache who I vaguely remember from Buster.
Advice: read the strips this is based on at the back of the volume first, otherwise what comes before will be baffling. Essentially this retreads the well-worn Moore groove of old heroes from different times being challenged in a more modern environment by the change of times and the change of the tone of the times. And while a more in depth knowledge of who’s who would surely repay in the reading, this remains a well drawn and interesting story with few great moments.
96/365 Uno de mis pendientes. Cómic interesante que toma a numerosos personajes de cómics clásicos, pero más allá de esa premisa tampoco es un cómic deslumbrante. Tiene alguna idea interesante (resucitar personajes antiguos en tiempos modernos) y recuerda un poco a La Liga de los Caballeros Extraordinarios.No obstante, el trabajo de los Moore (padre e hija), Reppion y Oakley permiten que sea un cómic medianamente entretenido.
This graphic novel really had a lot of potential for me especially with Alan Moore being one of the writers. But sadly it just did not live up to my expectations now. I actually read this graphic novel probably 10 or so years ago and I remember really enjoying it but after rereading it I guess it is not as great as I remember it to be. Overall the potential and the ideas are great but the overall execution just was not.
Everything I’ve read by Leah Moore and John Reppion comes of as incoherent and self indulgent. I was hoping the plotting by Alan Moore would change this but it doesn’t.
It’s also impossible not to compare this to (Alan) Moore’s League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - the main difference being that series works apart from the references.
Al contrario de lo que pensé en un principio, no es una buena manera de entrar en el mundo de los coloridos superhéroes y villanos del cómic británico: más bien al contrario, es una obra pensada para lo conocedores del tema. La narración es un poco obtusa y el apartado gráfico no es muy allá.
I do not have the proper British comics literacy to fully understand the scope of what is taking place here—Moore depends more on allusion than building up these characters to where they both stand on their own and in reference to their source material.
Took a little while for me to get into it. Interesting enough that I may search out the next one in the series Not a lot of action if that is what you are looking for
This would probably mean more to someone familiar with all these obscure British comic characters of the sixties. To me, it was more of a chore to get through. It's also pretty clear that Alan Moore may have had the idea for this comic, but it was his daughter and son-in-law who wrote it and they are nowhere near the writer Alan Moore is.
I had a hard time following this. A lot of the dialogue was oblique and full of portent, which was too obscure for me get. It was so very, very British, the dialogue that implies much and states little. The art also had an absence of segues that gave me a bit of trouble, too. One frame one character is making a whole bunch of references I don't get, the next frame some other barely-introduced character is talking about something apparently unrelated. I'm lost.
The little history lesson on 60s and 70s British comics at the end of the book clarified things somewhat, but the story was still a bit like trying to read Middle English without a side-by-side translation. It almost seems like a symptom of this era when comics are now apparently for grown-ups instead of kids: the entire story is a re-imagining of characters unfamiliar to anyone under 45 or 50, and it's only for those who happened to read British comics in their now-distant youth.
In the end, the plot and the dialogue felt entirely arbitrary. The last page made no sense to me until after reading the history lesson afterword, and even then the emotional punch of that stinger ending was completely lost on me. It was fun to learn about an alternative, unfamiliar comics culture though, I appreciated that when I finally got to a straightforward explanation at the end of the book.
http://nhw.livejournal.com/904393.html[return][return]Albion is a British riff on the resurrection of old superheroes in today's world, being busted out of the Scottish castle in which they have been imprisoned since the government turned against them. It's generally good stuff, with some nice touches - how did Margaret Thatcher really survive the Brighton bomb? And one particularly nasty character grumbles, "The world's gone soft! See where your Teletubbies have led you?!"[return][return]It is supported by a good deal of material on the characters, including several complete original stories, as they appeared in Valiant, which I confess I don't remember ever reading myself (and which ceased publishing before Leah and John were even born). Also carries a recommendation from Neil Gaiman, who unlike me is old enough to have read the comics first time round and contributes an introduction.
This book is not only a very different sort of shared universe. It's a sort of gateway drug for British comics. After reading this marvelous tale of obscure (here in the U. S.) British comic strip characters, I was hungry for more. Not only would I love to read their earlier adventures, but I'd love to see new stories featuring them. The section of classic strips at the end of the book only served to inflame that hunger. Besides the theme of nostalgia (even though this was my introduction to all of these characters, I still felt nostalgic reading it), there is a strong theme of suppression of the individual. These characters stand out, and the mundanes cannot let them do that. It has been some time since this work was published, but I still have hope that these characters will turn up again.
Although this book was a tribute to old and rather obscure British comics it was very accessible to readers unfamiliar with those comics. While sometimes the action was a bit hard to follow, the text was great. The story was a lot of fun, the plot was clear, and the resolution was satisfactory. I'd like to see more of these characters, but only if they are handled as well as they were in this volume.
My only negative comment is that although the editor and Neil Gaiman both referenced that these characters were taken from stories that were written for boys and girls, the collection of original stories at the end were only taken, as far as I can telly, from the stories for boys.
The story revolves around a modern-day Britain where comic book characters have turned out to really exist. The British public had been largely unaware of their existence throughout the '60s and '70s, thinking them to be fictional. Most of the IPC heroes are now interred within an asylum, and the daughter of one of the inmates is determined to reveal their existence to the larger public.
Starts off intriguingly, but ultimately disappointing.
Kind of sad proof that not ever propety nor obscure character can be resucitated; either through reconstruction and deconstruction (All DC has done well with their Hanna Barbera properties lately). This is a Penny Dreadful's League of Extrordinary Gentlemen.
It's plotted by Moore and written by Leah Moore and John Reppion. If I'm not mistaken, this may have been their first comic.