Thirteen Going on Eighteen: The John Stanley Library: A Review

Drawn + Quarterly's third release in their ongoing John Stanley Library is a great achievement in archival comics presentation.

I've been awaiting this book, which reprints the first nine issues of Stanley's longest-lasting auteur comics series, Thirteen Going On Eighteen.

I somehow missed doing a review of the first volume of Stanley's Nancy comics, so I'll tuck some thoughts on that book into this piece.

Here's the cover of this fat, handsome tome:

This 336-page full color book is a steal at $34.95. (The sticker on the back is mis-printed to say $24.95, BTW.) That its contents are of high quality, beautifully reproduced and rewarding to read is the proverbial icing-on-cake.

It makes sense that D+Q chose this series as a follow-up to the Nancy book. Nancy was a breath of fresh air for John Stanley, after 15 years as writer and de facto cartoonist on the enormously popular Little Lulu series.

Lulu's was a tightly defined, highly formal world for John Stanley. In writing its thousands of pages, Stanley created one of the most beloved and richly delineated comic book series. As Lulu became more popular, and more reliant on strict rules and formulas, it offered Stanley the creator less wiggle room to try out new approaches or ideas.

One senses a sigh of relief as Stanley transitions from Lulu to Nancy. While their worlds are similar, Stanley's approach shifts dramatically after Lulu. He begins to take significant risks with the motivations and pre-occupational quirks of his characters. Less intent in its storytelling, Stanley's Nancy becomes an arcade of brassy situational humor, marked by a new, dispassionate attitude towards his characters.

With Nancy, John Stanley develops a quality that, for wont of a better phrase, I'll call "loving contempt" for his comedic figures. Gone is the fatherly, nurturing, protective attitude he had developed towards the Little Lulu cast. Complex character motivations were rendered in broadest, boldest strokes.

Stanley surrenders his characters to tragicomic fate. They run rampant through their own triumphs and failures, humiliate and avenge themselves, and hit higher highs and lower lows than before.

The hands-on approach of Stanley's earlier comics becomes a void--a considerable distancing of creator and creations. He seems to say, to his characters, "Go ahead--do your best and your worst. I'm not going to control you anymore."

This shift infuses Nancy with a bold, grotesque energy. As Ernie Bushmiller's characters are ciphers--means to an end for a quick gag set-up--they were immediately more malleable and experiment-prone than the solidly delineated, deeply felt cast of Little Lulu.

Nancy, good as it is, is merely a dress rehearsal for the most textured and novelistic writing of Stanley's entire comics career--Thirteen Going On Eighteen. Nancy is high-quality, absurd sitcom, on par with the best work of humorist Max Shulman. Thirteen is more akin to the works of Philip Roth, Bruce Jay Friedman or Joseph Heller.

As the first nine issues of TGOE unfold, in this first volume, an intelligent, dispassionate yet deeply invested vision takes focus. Uncertain first moves flower into master-strokes of character motivation. Comedic stake-raising--always a Stanley asset--becomes more down-to-earth, more probable, and of bigger impact upon the lives of his fragile, risible, very real cast of characters.

This book offers insight on John Stanley's creative process. A burst of half-formed new ideas slowly take shape; characters radically shift their appearance and attitude as their creator hones his first flush of inspiration to quiet perfection.

The first two issues of TGOE were not drawn by Stanley. They were illustrated by one of the workhorse staff artists of the 1960s Dell Comics line, Tony Tallarico.

Stanley's scripts inspire Tallarico to the best comic artwork of his checkered career. Tallarico manages to convey Stanley's absurdist humor fairly well, given that Stanley's ideas for this series were clearly still in a larval state.

If the first two issues of the book look peculiar to modern readers, it cannot be denied that they are consistently funny and enjoyable. 

TGOE appeared quarterly. Stanley had the luxury of slowly and steadily developing and refining his ideas for the series. With the book's third issue, Stanley returned to publication as a writer/cartoonist--his first significant published comics work since the short run he did on Tubby in 1952/3.

The concept for TGOE was ingenious and highly commercial. Perhaps the first comic book series to focus on "tweens"--kids neither tots nor teens--it was a clever middle-ground between the likes of Little Lulu and the ultra-popular Archie comics line.

The potential for character-based humor is built into the series' basic concept. As it progresses, and Stanley becomes more sure of his characters--and of their potential for epic failures, humiliations, and the occasional triumph over fate--he makes them increasingly believable.

The characters of Nancy, Kookie, Dunc 'n' Loo and other Stanley comics are born of artifice and exaggeration. One cannot imagine inhabiting the same room with them. In contrast, Judy, Val, Billy, Paul and the other main figures of TGOE achieve a novelistic realness.

They possess a sheer presence not seen in mainstream comic books, and seldom in newspaper comic strips. They are not puppets to be moved about stock situation-comedy scenarios.

They are utterly distinguishable, as well. Val is her own person, as is Judy. Comedic secondary figures such as Charlie, Sticky Stu and Wilbur transcend their one-note gimmicks and become unexpectedly solid, compelling individuals as well.

Stanley's achievement with TGOE is synchronous with the rise of the underground comix movement of the 1960s.

The works of Robert Crumb, Justin Green, Gilbert Shelton and others have much in common with Stanley's final comics work. Despite their freedom to pursue frank, adult situations, language and behavior, the best of the undergrounds share with Stanley a desire to create comic book characters with more presence, probability and personality.

Thus, as TGOE unfolds, and as Stanley develops the quirks and virtues of his characters, he creates a truly novelistic narrative. It is rich in small details, a believable everyday atmosphere, and a sense of the quiet despair of adolescent life.

That this work is quite funny, while remaining true to a mature vision, is remarkable. Stanley is still as intent on amusing the reader. Stanleyisms teem on these pages--from the mantra-like appearances of "YOW!" to later developments in style, such as the increase (or decrease) of font size to connote changes in volume, and the assignment of Dickensian, usually satirical descriptive names for characters.

This sequence, from the sixth issue of TGOE, is a perfect demonstration of the rich blend of characterization, absurd humor, and a lifelike collision of tragedy and broad comedy, all within a  believable everyday setting and experience:

(note: these are NOT scans from the D+Q book they're from a digital scan of the original issue.)

A sub-feature in TGOE is the theater-of-cruelty, "Judy Junior." Stanley captures the inherent cruelty of childhood in a few swift strokes. I assume Judy Junior is the younger sister of TGOE's co-star. She is a horrific being, her sole motivation being the "guidance" of neighbor-kid Jimmy Fuzzi. They undergo the worst aspects of adult relationships, enacted in what feels, to me, like a brutal parody of Charles Schulz's Peanuts. (Imagine the Lucy/Linus relationship taken to its darkest extremes.) It is an absolutely caustic world that is equally funny and grim.

"Judy Junior" orbits its own desolate tragicomic universe. Though it may have been created primarily to fulfill postal regulations, so that TGOE could be purchased by subscription, the feature leaves an unsettling taste in the reader's mouth. It is Stanley at his darkest and most unrelenting.

Stanley's comic art strengthens admirably in the seven issues he illustrates in this volume. Tentative work gives way to elegant, simple drawings full of depth and personality.

The cartooning improves once the book switches from more spacious, three-tier pages, to the four-tier set-up Stanley utilized in Lulu, Nancy and most of his post-1945 comics work. Stanley seems to thrive in the tighter, more cramped panels of the four-tier pages. His cartooning is sketchy but evocative, and is consistently impressive and expressive.

The production of this book is a triumph for D + Q. After the murky reproductions of the first Nancy volume, with its distracting, incongruently bright yellows, the scans here are remarkably sharp, well-balanced and clean.

My only complaint, as with the prior volumes in this set, is the absence of Stanley's beautifully designed and rendered cover illustrations. With their logos shorn, they would make apt "chapter stops" for the individual issues

It seems odd to me that, in the books' back-page biography of John Stanley, that it is never once mentioned that he is the cartoonist of this work. Perhaps it appears self-evident to D+Q's powers-that-be, but I feel this needs to be stated. People need to get that John Stanley was a skilled artist AND a great writer.

Both sides of the art of John Stanley are in full display through this essential book. If you've been on the fence about buying previous volumes in the JSL, don't hesitate to purchase and read this one!

Jeet Heer responds re D + Q's Melvin Monster book

Jeet Heer offered some thoughts on the editorial thinking behind the new Drawn + Quarterly John Stanley Library books.

He was not involved with the editorial decisions on this series, but he has spoken with some of the individuals who put these books together.

What he has to say makes sense to me. It also clears up any misgivings adult readers might have about these books.

Please read Jeet's words and consider them...

I think the MM book is a great kids book. I have witness[ed] a few families I know who are really enjoying it. [The addition of] a long introduction (in the mode of Walt and Skeezix and other books) would have been a mistake since it would make the series seem archival rather than living kids books.

There's plenty of time to do an archival edition later: right now I think it's more important to get kids reading Stanley again as they did in the 1950s and 1960s. Once there is an audience for his work, then there will be room for a more focused study of the man.

I agree with him: it's important to get these comix back into the hands of kids! Dark Horse's paperback Little Lulu books have sold well and been very much enjoyed by kids. Although Stanley's stories can be enjoyed by adults, as with Barks' work, there is much to be gained by getting this material back into the currency of young readership.

However, it is standard publishing practice to fully credit the creative talent of a book. Therefore, I strongly suggest that John Stanley be credited as ARTIST and WRITER of the comix he created fully, such as MM and Thirteen Going on 18. I hope Drawn + Quarterly will amend the credits for future JSL volumes.

As well, introductory material could be helpful in giving interested adult parents some background on what they're buying for their kids. The kids will just skip past the introduction anyway; there is an interested adult market for these books, and it seems wise, business-wise, to gear them towards as many paying markets as possible.

Let me know your thoughts on this.

UPDATE: Tom Devlin, who commented on this post, has asked that his comments be withdrawn. I found his viewpoints on the editorial vision of the John Stanley Library series of great interest. They are rather invisible in the published volumes, and given the controversy my postings have aroused, I felt that, for once, an explanation was helpful.

I'm going to paraphrase some points Tom made, just to end this dischord--a dischord not intended by me in any way...

The MM books were designed for children--as stated earlier, their goal is to bring John Stanley's comix back into circulation for younger readers. As John Stanley is one of the great American authors of the 20th century, this is a noble goal.

D+Q has tentative plans to produce an Art of John Stanley book someday. I have discussed this project with Tom, and my involvement is likely. I didn't mention it here because (a) it slipped my mind and (b) I don't like to sound off on projects that aren't in the here and now. If this book comes to be, and I am a part of it, I will be happy to work on it. I think such a book is inevitable, despite the lack of solid biographical information available on Stanley.

But Stanley is not the first great author to be written about in the absence of a great deal of biographical knowledge. The themes of his work, and the artistry of his storytelling--and his innovations to the comix format--are a rich topic, and much can be said about them.

The MM books were planned as a three-volume set, each to contain a third of the series' nine-issue run (#10 was a reprint of the first issue). This choice helped keep production costs down, and thus the retail price of the books down.

This is an elaborate book, but it's worth the retail price. As said in my review, amazon.com and other discount internet sites offer excellent deals on the book. Again, I urge you to purchase this volume to support D+Q's ambitious plans to restore John Stanley to print.

OK! Matter closed. Let's move on to new horizons. I look forward to the next volumes in D+Q's Stanley series. I may even review them here. We'll see...

Melvin Monster Vol. 1: The John Stanley Library-- a review

Drawn + Quarterly's "John Stanley Library" has begun with a handsome volume of Melvin Monster. While the book is not all it could be, it still earns my highest accolades. I felt it appropriate to review it for this blog.



This is the first time an easily-available mass market hardcover of John Stanley's cartooning has been published. (Stanley's prior hardcover appearances include a generous berth in Michael Barrier's Smithsonian Book of Comic-Book Comics and the multi-volume, limited-run "Little Lulu Library" of the 1980s.

Within this book are the inner contents of the first three issues of Melvin Monster. This title was a part of John Stanley's renaissance as a "total" cartoonist in the 1960s.

Freed from the constraints of licensed characters, and of other, usually lesser cartoonists to complete his work, Stanley realized an elegant, distinct style of cartoon art. This style had been present in his work from his start in comic books.

By the 1960s, Stanley's sure hand and economical line were at their peak. Wielding an elegant brush-stroke, Stanley wrote, drew and lettered his work with a seeming effortlessness. As with Harvey Kurtzman and Jesse Marsh's work, Stanley's '60s comix make the artform look easy as pie.

This seeming facility belies the hard work that went into each panel. A casual look at the pages of this book reveals a masterful sense of panel composition, of narrative flow, and of the use of typography as a vital storytelling element.

Melvin Monster was John Stanley's entry in the "kooky monster" trend of the early 1960s. Alongside The Addams Family, The Munsters and a multitude of zany monster-themed trading cards, records and other ephemera, Melvin Monster was very much a product of its time--an unerringly commercial concept.

Stanley takes his time in establishing the world of Melvin Monster in these first three issues.

I don't want to burn a lot of daylight discussing the content of these stories, nor provide a sweeping canned overview of their characteristics. I'll come back to this material shortly.

From its start, Melvin Monster displays the growing darkness of John Stanley's vision. Were I a parent, I would have reservations about handing this volume to my kids without a preliminary sit-down discussion. There is intense stuff between this book's hardcovers.

The world of Melvin Monster reminds me of Lynda Barry's devastating novel, Cruddy. Both depict a universe of loosely organized chaos into which children are swept around like dead leaves.

Isolation, abandonment, entrapment, threats to life and limb (quicksand, alligators, falling objects, random acts of violence) and parental neglect are part and parcel of Melvin Monster's daily life.

Pop culture of the 1950s and '60s was quite dark in its matter-of-fact depiction of the downside of human existence. Melvin Monster is not as disturbing as the most extreme artifacts of this era.

If you want to really see something disturbing, try the Highway Safety Council-produced "educational" classroom film, The Child Molester, from 1964, or the 1960s "gore" horror-movies of Herschell Gordon Lewis, which wed Grand Guignol theatrics to the crudest lack of artistry imaginable.

Admittedly, these two examples are farther removed from the mainstream than Dell's comic books of the era. But they capture the darkest of the dark of the 1960s.

Melvin Monster comes off much lighter, in comparison, but has an inescapable, palpable bleakness.

The saving grace is John Stanley's unerring wit and Lubitsch-like comedic timing. Just when the events seem too foreboding, too grim, a comic zinger swoops down, like some benevolent bird of prey, and brightens the balance.

By this time, Stanley was comics' master of verbal patter. He, above all other contemporary comic book creators, got the rhythm of language--how to write it, how to sell it, and how to enforce its intake.

Stanley's language and verbal rhythms perform a masterful lightfooted dance throughout his 1960s work. It's abundant in Melvin Monster. It impresses me that such a dark concept can also be so frequently hilarious.

A genuine edginess distinguishes this work. Nearly half a century has not dulled this edge. If anything, these stories may be more humorous--and distubing--to 2009 readers than they were to their original audience.

About the book itself: designer Seth has done a lovely job on this book. With its foil embossing and teach-yourself-taxidermy color palette, it is also a very typical piece for the designer.

I do wish Seth would let less of his personal style into his design work. While these books--including Fantagraphics' successful hardcover reprints of Charles Schulz's Peanuts--are attractive, they often have nothing to say about the work inside, but everything to say about Seth's highly recognizable sense of graphic design.

Were John Stanley's name not on the front cover, a casual observer might think, "oh, wow; another Seth book. He sure is prolific!"

I do not criticize Seth's graphic design sense. It is well-established and easily recognizable. I think he has plenty of room to let more of the essence of the work inside shine through.

It's as if he feels a responsibility to vigorously sell the book--almost as if the work, itself, might not be strong enough to attract readership.

Upon opening the book, the reader is treated to one handsome spread after another--mood pieces that set the stage for the stories themselves. In light of my earlier comments about Seth's ubiquitous design sense, I must also state that this is the nicest-looking archival comics volume I've seen to date.

The original comics panels are isolated against a reassuring field of vintage newsprint. The effect is attractive, and makes a strong first impression.

The quality of the scans, from vintage comics, is very good. The blacks are strong and well-balanced, and fidelity to the source materials is strongly maintained.

On the flipside, some of the source materials are visibly flawed. The second issue, for example, appears to be sourced from a water-damaged, badly fluted and wrinkled original. The high-rez scanning makes every flaw in these pages vividly evident.

I found myself often distracted from the reading experience by these found eyesores. These original comics are not that rare: surely better sources can be located!

I regret that Stanley's striking cover designs for these issues are not included. Perhaps they were omitted to skirt the legal waters of Dell's possible claim to ownership of this series. Certainly the cover images themselves could be isolated and presented in these books. For one thing, they often bear John Stanley's signature--that rarest of things in his career.

For another, they are outstanding pieces of schematic design. Stanley's covers sold millions of comics--he designed the monthly Little Lulu covers. To omit this artwork and design from future volumes of the Stanley Library would be a crime.

Lastly, I am shocked at the lack of introductory material here. There is nothing that sets up these stories for the reader. It may be that D + Q want these stories to be read on their own merits, without historical context.

They work on their own, as they did in the mid-'60s. But there are remarkable aspects to this work that deserve to be stated--and which would enhance the reading experience.

I am certain that even a casual first-time reader would find the history of interest. It is a story of perseverance and artistic triumph, in a medium not inclined to reward such actions.

Just think: here is a brilliant comix creator who had over two decades' non-stop experience as a writer, artist, designer and creator--but who never signed his work before 1963, with one fluky exception.

This was the same experience Carl Barks suffered, on the other side of the continent, in his 25-year career as the "duck man" of Dell's California branch.

But Barks never developed and produced an original series idea for comix--or for any medium. He arguably rethought Donald Duck, and other Disney characters, and made them over into living, breathing, beautifully real individuals.

Barks certainly had ambitions to create his own comic strip or book from scratch, but the opportunity never happened for him.

John Stanley created at least seven original series for comic books, going back to the late 1940s.

With his all-original '60s work, Stanley reinvented himself as a newly vibrant creator. He no longer hit the ceiling of limitations imposed by licensed characters. He owned his world, from scratch, and could do as he pleased.

Decades of the daily discipline of comix writing gave his work a professional polish that helped cloak the dark themes he increasingly favored. John Stanley could sugar-coat his bitter pills of human truth just enough to get us, the reader, to swallow them.

My experience of reading his work is that its darkness and brutality often occurs to me later, in reflection. In the moment of the act of reading, his winning comedic sensibilities and brilliant narrative pacing occupy my attention.

I admire him for his ability to do two things at once: entertain and create works of emotional gravity. I think this is exactly what any modern-day alternative cartoonist strives to do with his or her work. Here is a man who managed to slip this highly personal vision between the cracks of mass-market publishing.

In closing, I urge you to purchase this book. Your purchase will encourage and support D + Q's ambitions to make a great deal of John Stanley's best work widely available. These are troubled days for book publishing. We can no longer afford the luxury of being idle spectators. This book can currently be had, for a very affordable sum, from amazon.com.

Or, better yet, buy this from your friendly neighborhood independent book store/comix store. This will encourage said seller to re-order this book, and others like it. Your purchase helps to create and sustain a market for non-crap comix in hardcover.

You will be glad this volume, and future John Stanley Library volumes, are on your bookshelf. They reward repeated readings and speak of a potential only rarely -achieved by mainstream media.