Teen Boat! By Dave Roman and
John Green. Clarion. $14.99.
The Griff. By Christopher
Moore and Ian Carson, with Jennyson Rosero. William Morrow. $22.99.
There are limits to
how far the “graphic” in “graphic novel” can carry a story. It really helps if there is a story worth
carrying. Teen Boat! is ridiculous fun that essentially has no story at
all. The title character is a boy named,
well, Teen Boat; he has that name because he is a teenager who can change
himself into a small yacht. OK, there’s
the story; pretty much all of it. Teen Boat
has a fairly typical ordinary-comic-character appearance, with bland features
and just a bit of angularity to his body – sort of like an older Flat Stanley,
but not quite as flat. There is no
“origin” story here, no explanatory material of any kind; and in fact, Teen Boat
soon turns out to be only one among several teens with transformative
powers. The powers are used…well, unlike
comic books, in which supernatural powers are used to battle evildoers or
become evildoers, Teen Boat’s are used only for being a teenager. That means getting bullied by the local
football jock, having a crush on the wrong girl while missing out on the right
one who has been available all along, getting detention, being tricked into
helping not-so-nice schoolmates because of a strong desire to be accepted,
going on field trips, and so forth. True,
not everything here is typical teen stuff in the manner of Archie comics – there is one sequence in which Teen Boat and
classmates are accosted by pirates, albeit ones who wear eyepatches purely for
effect, sport temporary rather than permanent tattoos, and say “arrr” whenever
the “ar” sound appears in any word whatsoever; and there is a bit of a mystery
about the school’s principal, who keeps turning up where he shouldn’t and is
clearly not the appropriate authority figure he is supposed to be. But these are minor matters. Teen Boat!
really is fun to read despite the utter predictability of its plot, and by the
time the pirates have escaped prison and launched (yes, launched) a well-funded
search aimed at revenge upon TeenBoat, readers will likely be looking forward
to the sequel. Actually, though, the
most interesting part of the book is the six-page “how this book was created”
section at the end – a primer for making a graphic novel.
Jennyson Rosero’s art
for The Griff is at a much higher
level than the art of Teen Boat! And the book has a much more serious, if
equally formulaic, plot: Earth is invaded by aliens who kill almost everyone,
leaving a plucky band of intrepid survivors to fight the evildoers from outer
space and begin the task of repopulating the world. OK, got it.
Novelist Christopher Moore and screenwriter Ian Corson are capable of
much better than this, and have shown how good they are repeatedly, so it is
only fair to cut them some slack for this divertissement. The title (which is both singular and plural)
refers to the murderous invading aliens, which resemble mythological griffins
and are given their name by a reporter just before he becomes Griff food. The pacing of the book is highly cinematic,
presumably thanks to Corson, a director as well as a writer. The best character by far, and indeed the
only one with much character, is Goth game-goddess Mo, who gets turned on by
weaponry and has courage to live for (literally) as well as a body to die for
(figuratively); Mo closely tracks strong female characters in Moore’s books and
is presumably his creation, or at least primarily his. Too bad none of the three guys in the book is
worthy of her, although of course this sort of plot means she has to end up
with one of them (and since there is only one other major female character, she has to end up with another of them,
and the third man, who is older and less buff than the other two, has to be
conveniently eliminated after proving his heroism). The extremely standard plot has Earth’s
defenses overwhelmed and destroyed because they are designed against invaders
of metal, while the Griff are “meat.”
There are, very typically for this sort of tale, two tracks to the
story, one starting in New York and the other in Florida, over which the alien
spaceship hovers until it mysteriously crashes; the New York contingent travels
south, fighting the good fight all the way, eventually joining up with the
Florida survivors. A few elements of the
plot are offbeat and amusing: for example, the most soldier-like character
turns out to be only a military hobbyist who worked at a department-store
makeup counter before the Griff attacked.
But the lack of explanation of pretty much everything is irritating:
exactly what, for instance, called the Griff to Earth in the first place, and
how did they appear almost instantaneously, and why did they have to wait to be
signaled to show up? Also, the very
ending of the work is simply ludicrous: six months after the main events,
neither woman is pregnant (the highly detailed end-of-story picture of Mo makes
her non-pregnancy abundantly clear), and Steve, the guy with whom Mo has hooked
up, is still wearing the same Band-Aid he had on six months earlier, in the
same place. The very last scene is
impossible to figure out: either it is the traditional “dawn of a new hope”
conclusion or the equally traditional “another signal to vicious aliens to come
take over what’s left of Earth” ending. The Griff, though, is absolutely
gorgeous to look at even when its plot is at its most incoherent. Moore and Corson are the heavyweights here,
but this would have been a very lightweight book indeed without Rosero’s superb
work.
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