It was not too long ago (that’s in historical time, not 24/7 time) that comics, along with blue jeans and rock and roll, were somehow considered—by anxious parents and the usual whack jobs—to be contributors to juvenile delinquency. It was just one of the great panics of the allegedly idyllic Eisenhower years (others included nuclear devastation, miscegenation, and communist conspiracies—to which we owe the slogan, “Better Dead than Red”—and so forth). By the ’60s, parents and other authorities had other worries and so-called comics, in the nimble hands of Jules Feiffer, Robert Crumb, Edward Gorey, Gahan Wilson, and a host of others, took on a more socially relevant turn. With Art Speigelman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Maus, illustrated narratives were finally legitimized—leading to the designation “graphic novel.”

In recent months, A People’s History of American Empire and Waltz With Bashir have continued to add gravitas to the illustrated text. Now comes Nelson Mandela: The Authorized Comic Book by the Nelson Mandela Foundation, illustrated by Umlando Wezithombe (W.W. Norton). This comic (and biography) of Mandela’s life adds to his published memoir Long Road to Freedom, with newly recovered archival information and fresh interviews.

Paul Buhle, Brown University mentor, who guided the graphization of Howard Zinn’s seminal work, teams with Harvey Pekar (American Splendor) on Studs Terkel’s Working: A Graphic Adaptation (New Press) to adapt Studs Terkel’s celebrated documentation of the American worker’s ethos.

French graphic novelist Emmanuel Guibert brings us The Photographer: Into War-Torn Afghanistan With Doctors Without Borders (First Second), which presents a humanitarian mission to 1980s Afghanistan through the reportage of the late Didier Lefèvre, a revered war correspondent and winner of all manner of international awards. It has well-known book critic and U.N.H.C.R. Goodwill Ambassador Angelina Jolie extolling:

“An unflinching and gripping photographic memoir, The Photographer takes you on a breathtaking journey through the best and worst humanity has to offer in times of war. Turning its pages, the reader begins to understand what it means to lose everything as a refugee of war, to cross mountains to help someone you never met, to feel the intense responsibility of being the only one able to capture the last moments of a child’s stolen life. Suddenly Afghanistan, a distant land, a foreign culture, a courageous and resilient people seem closer, more familiar—more human. I love this book.”

 —Robert Birnbaum, Aug. 21, 2009

The Cultivated Life (Rizzoli), a delightful anthology written and illustrated by Jean-Philippe Delhomme, is a thin tome containing more than 100 of the ubiquitous French illustrator’s works. As is the case with many visual artists co-opted by various luxury brands, you will no doubt recognize the style and images that have hawked cars and boutiques.

Interview magazine featured Delhomme this spring: Glenn O’Brien (who hired him for a well-regarded advertising campaign for Barneys) offers up a quickie interview snapshot of the iconoclastic artist. The Cultivated Life is a razor-sharp dissection of the vicissitudes of a life surrounded by designer and brand names, with an illuminating essay thrown in here and there. You can see his recent work for the Mark Hotel and other amusements at his fun-filled web site. —Robert Birnbaum, Jul. 21, 2009

Add the names of Bill Mauldin and Jules Feiffer to Ed Sorel, Seymour Chwast, and David Levine, and this group of masters will give you a Mount Rushmore of American illustration for the latter half of the 20th century and onward. I have already noted Mauldin’s two volume set of Willie & Joe: The WWII Years (Fantagraphics) when it was published. If you need a snapshot of Mauldin’s genius, look to his poignant illustration of the Lincoln Memorial crying upon Kennedy’s assassination.


Feiffer’s great work at the Village Voice has also been compiled (and also by Fantagraphics). Now come three recent works by the three amigos that warrant notice. Sorel, whose illustrations and caricatures have adorned more than a fair share of New Yorker and other smart magazine covers, normally collaborates with wife Nancy on his forays into literature and history. In the case of Certitude: A Profusely Illustrated Guide to Blockheads and Bullheads, Past and Present (Harmony), book critic Adam Begley and Sorel lampoon (and harpoon) nearly 50 world historical figures (Tom Cruise? Madonna?) who were convinced of some notion or belief—only to be clearly and definitively wrong. As the authors cheerfully exhibit with this well-chosen epigram from Ambrose Bierce, “To be positive: to be mistaken at the top of one’s voice.” In Christopher Hitchens’s introduction (an essayistic gem that redoubles the value of this small but mighty tome), he observes, “from George Armstrong Custer to the teak headed British generals on the Western Front, we have shining examples of those who kept doing the same old thing, each time hoping for a different result. This conforms to George Santayana’s definition of fanaticism, which is redoubling your efforts when you have forgotten your aims.” This collection of sketches of the likes of Girolamo Savonarola, Carry A. Nation, Arthur Conan Doyle, Herbert Hoover, Sam Goldwyn, Joseph Stalin, and Bush & Co excellently illustrates that point exponentially.


David Levine also has a long career illustrating: The New York Review of Books (in which he has appeared in every issue for 45 years), Time, Newsweek, Esquire, Playboy, The New Yorker, New York Magazine, and The Nation, among others. His drawing of Lyndon Johnson revealing a scar in the shape of Vietnam is considered one of the most recognized (and most copied) of the Vietnam era—just one vivid example of Levine’s extraordinarily acute vision and biting humor. Bill Moyers comments, “of another contemporary American political cartoonist it has been said that had he not become an artist he would have found his calling as a professional assassin…not so with Levine… He has far too much class… But remember this too about a man who could be so merciless and devastating in his portrayal of our poo-bahs. A great intelligence guided his hand and also a great heart. Even as he held their flaws and foibles high on the skewer he never seems driven by malevolence. ‘I love my species,’ he one said. And why not? He could not have had better material.” American Presidents (Fantagraphics) is a 128-page compilation that assembles Levine’s survey of American leaders and their coteries and skewers them with delightful results. It should be a required text in American history courses—Levine’s images powerfully expose the venality, duplicity, and hypocrisy of the upper reaches of our government.


Seymour Chwast, co-founder of Push Pin Studios (with Milton Glazer, Reynold Ruffins, and Sorel) has been a design trailblazer and seminally influential illustrator for nearly 60 years, and has designed and illustrated more than 30 books. While more commercially involved than other artists mentioned, as shown in Seymour: The Obsessive Images of Seymour Chwast (Chronicle Books), a splendidly edited and reproduced 270 page monograph, Chwast does indulge his sense of engagement with The Nose, a regularly published, 24-page newsletter that he designs and illustrates in order to “draw attention to relevant social issues as well as trivial ones.” Design historian Steven Heller and designer Paul Scher (also Chwast’s spouse) both provide illuminating commentary—if you want to go deeper than the compelling illustrations. —Robert Birnbaum, Jun. 25, 2009