Monday, June 05, 2006
Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre
John Picacio is mighty. See for yourself, if you don't believe me.
Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre, Pete Coogan's book length examination of the superhero, is a corker. Scheduled for a July release, copies should be available at the MonkeyBrain booth at the San Diego Comic Con, where Pete will be on hand to sign copies. Anyone with even a passing interest in the genre owes it to themselves to give it a look, as it's well worth picking up.
Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre, Pete Coogan's book length examination of the superhero, is a corker. Scheduled for a July release, copies should be available at the MonkeyBrain booth at the San Diego Comic Con, where Pete will be on hand to sign copies. Anyone with even a passing interest in the genre owes it to themselves to give it a look, as it's well worth picking up.
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I ran across a passage from George Macdonald Fraser's Flashman and the Tiger, about Sir James Hope Grant, that says it pretty well about Picacio--all you need to do is put in Picacio's name and art/drawing/painting/picture composing as needed:
"I'm no hero-worshipper, as you may have gathered, and my view of the military virtues is that the best thing you can do with 'em is to hang them on the wall in Bedlam - but I know cold fact when I see it. With sword, lance, or any kind of side-arm he was the most expert, deadly practitioner that ever breathed; as a leader of irregular cavalry he left Stuart, Hodson, Custer, and the rest at the gate; in the Mutiny he had simply fought the whole damned time with a continuous fury that was the talk of an army containing the likes of Sam Browne, John Nicholson, and (dare I say it?) my vaunted but unworthy self. Worshipped by the rank and file, naturally; he was a kindly soul, for all they called him the "Provost-Marshal," and even charming if you don't mind ten-minute silences. But as a hand-to-hand blood-spiller it was Eclipse first and the rest nowhere."
It's Picacio first, and everyone else nowhere.
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"I'm no hero-worshipper, as you may have gathered, and my view of the military virtues is that the best thing you can do with 'em is to hang them on the wall in Bedlam - but I know cold fact when I see it. With sword, lance, or any kind of side-arm he was the most expert, deadly practitioner that ever breathed; as a leader of irregular cavalry he left Stuart, Hodson, Custer, and the rest at the gate; in the Mutiny he had simply fought the whole damned time with a continuous fury that was the talk of an army containing the likes of Sam Browne, John Nicholson, and (dare I say it?) my vaunted but unworthy self. Worshipped by the rank and file, naturally; he was a kindly soul, for all they called him the "Provost-Marshal," and even charming if you don't mind ten-minute silences. But as a hand-to-hand blood-spiller it was Eclipse first and the rest nowhere."
It's Picacio first, and everyone else nowhere.
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