The Scrapyard Detectives: Collected Cases volume 1

The Scrapyard Detectives: Collected Cases volume 1, 2007, The Diversity Foundation
excerpt: "The Mystery of the Stolen Junk!"
writer: Batton Lash
penciller/colorist: Bill Galvan
inker: Robert Hawkins
letterer: Artmonkey's Dave Lanphear

Blogger's note: Entry for Thursday, February 21, 2008.

Before I dive into this review, I owe Bill Galvan an apology. Bill was kind enough to cite a small part of my The Scrapyard Detectives #3 review on the back of this, their first collected volume, and send me a complimentary copy. Further, as I compared The Scrapyard Detectives with The Tandy Computer Whiz Kids, jokingly commenting that his characters would win in a DC vs. Marvel-like confrontation, Bill whipped up a personal sketch of the crossover, which is currently hanging above a Anarky vs. Mr. Freeze drawing from Min Ku in my new man-cave:


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So, how did I repay his kindness? I waited almost a year to finally review The Scrapyard Detectives: Collected Cases. Honestly, I hadn't even opened the volume until today, in anticipation of completely enjoying it. The three issues of Scrapyard that I've acquired at the San Diego Comic Con have been nothing short of incredibly entertaining, so much so that I've helped myself to a stack or two so I could share them with the kids at work. (I work for a prominent after school program. What, you didn't think I blog for a living, do you? Sigh, if only . . .!) Yes, considering the sketch on my wall and the poster hanging in my office, you'd think I was the Detective's biggest fan!

You'd be close. In an insightful introductory essay to Collected Cases, J.M. DeMatteis (yes, that J.M. DeMatteis) explains his whole-hearted appreciation for the Scrapyard Detectives' all-ages appeal, as a writer, fan, and parent. While DeMatteis credits Galvan and company for their inclusion of socially relevant themes, he asserts what I like best about this series -- "that it never forgets that a good solid story has to come first." Working with children and striving to elevate my position past "babysitter" to "role model," I've seen plenty of kid-oriented materials that attempt to instill a moral compass via content with a "youthful edge," but oftentimes these efforts fail to impress. Too contrived. Trying too hard. In fact, I'd venture a guess that such curriculum is frequently created without a consultation from real live children. A statistical analysis of what children need is not an experiential equivalent to filling up a room with fifty of the little brats. Believe me.

Therein lies the strength of The Scrapyard Detectives. Reading the first three issues and now the origin story that premiered in this collection, I don't get the impression that Galvan and his legion of writers are trying to ram a morality message down their readers' throats. I'm sure the temptation for a G.I. Joe-like "Knowing is Half the Battle" moment at the end of each issue presents itself during their creative process, but like DeMatteis insists, their strength is in telling a dynamic story first. The Scrapyard Detectives isn't a series about social injustice but about three kids that find a mutual satisfaction in solving little local mysteries. That these cases happen to include a context of prejudice or abuse is simply an unfortunate truth in today's America. Scrapyard spares us the kid gloves, and in so doing respects anyone that might read it, kids included. Simply put, by presenting a realistic story about children, The Scrapyard Detectives appeals to children, or the inner child in all of us comic book readers.

Who thought we could escape into another incarnation of our own harsh world? Perceiving a place such as this optimistically really is just a matter of perspective.

Regarding this never-before-published origin story, Batton Lash presents a concise eleven page adventure in which Robert meets Raymond and Jinn for the first time. When Robert talks about his father's salvage yard in class, the three meet there to explore its treasures and inadvertently observe a thief swiping his own fair share of junk. The kids separately form their own outrageous theories about the burglar's motives, but when they realize that the culprit is an artist from their classmate's mother's museum, the case takes on a much more down to earth tone. Still, Lash writes a well paced tale, with plenty of clues and red herrings to make this simple mystery complex enough to keep any readers' attention. The Scooby-Doo moment at the end -- essentially akin to, "And I would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you . . . you . . . Scrapyard Detectives!" -- has a rewarding Year One quality about it, as if long-time fans like me would respond, "Oh, so that's where they got the name!" Hey, so what if I did, okay?

Also, Galvan's artistic supplementals are really easy on the eyes, and I must say I highly prefer his pencil sketch of this collection's cover over the final glossy product. The fact that these pages are planned so intricately elevates an otherwise free, and therefore potentially throw away series to a legitimate collectors' item . . . not to mention a contending contributor to the medium as a whole.

Finally, while I once criticised the Detective's paradoxical use of highbrow technology amidst the garbage of a scrapyard, I now have a comprehensive understanding that Robert uses said junk to build his little robot spies and stuff. It's the one fantastical element this series allows itself; in the midst of schoolyard bullies and abusive fathers, the kids get a hover scooter and such. Fortunately, Galvin blends these two concepts seamlessly, confirming that a world that isn't always kind to kids might still afford them the resources to express themselves creatively. I don't know who's having more fun -- the characters when they use these gadgets, or the creators that get to write and draw them.

I take that back -- I do know who's having the most fun. We, the readers, are. Trust me, if you pick up an issue of The Scrapyard Detectives, you will not regret it, and I'm not just saying that because I'm quoted on the back cover. It's really the other way around. Why mainstream superhero comics aren't for kids anymore will be a mystery that plagues the industry for decades to come, like all of their other cases, the Scrapyard Detectives present a viable solution. Join them in the pleasure of being a part of the answer.

Panda Khan Special #1

Panda Khan Special #1, August 1990, Abacus Press
writer: Monica Sharp
artist: Dave Garcia

Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, February 2, 2008.

Like the stars of Friday's Mighty Mutanimals, Panda Khan is a character I've known only as an action figure for well over fifteen years. Since his armor is similar to Usaki Yojimbo's, I assumed that the characters were somewhat related, if not cosmetically, than perhaps conceptually. "Rabbit samurais look cool, so what other animals can we dress up? Hey, aren't pandas from China anyway?" Of course, now I know that, like Yojimbo, Panda Khan already had quite the established identity in his own independently published miniseries, The Chronicles of Panda Khan. From what I've been able to find on-line, this issue, Panda Khan Special #1, is the character's third and final appearance. Honestly, after reading it, I can understand why Khan has more staying power as a toy.

Dave Garcia's work boasts a lot of heart, but Panda Khan Special #1 also touts its own veritable vocabulary, one that requires more patience and investment than I'm willing to give any single issue. A front cover synopsis attempts to provide some definition and clarification, but my feable mind was quickly lost after the third reading of such sentences like, "As the years passed, Shibo continued his experiments while his nature grew more twisted, and the JIN1000 developed the personality of THE JINSHIN MUSHI, a legendary diety who taught the pandas their history and the worship of the SUPREME CREATOR, P'AN KU." Okay, maybe that sentence makes sense on its own, but imagine it wedged between similar statements, each introducing a different concept or character with peculiar pronunciations. Had I read the previous Panda Khan issues, perhaps I'd have an attachment to those pivotal plot points, but as a synopsis, it looks like Greek to me.

Still, mine is an opinion that shouldn't detract from the fact that Sharp and Garcia try to tell a very human story with their alien panda protagonists. At its basest level, the Panda Khan is essentially a tribal account of a benevolent leader going to great lengths to protect his people. Also, although their country inhabits an alien world, these talking pandas are not immune to mankind's greediness and are still on the run from poachers, which infuses the story with a smidgeon of political and environmental undertones. Still, when three of the youngest bears are cornered by the snarling hunters, a ninja star flies through the air and strikes one of them, and when Panda Khan appears to save the day, he . . . talks it out. Those fantastic elements summarized on the inside front cover somehow come into play, and for some reason, the humans cannot be mortally harmed. They are outnumbered, however, which is enough to assure an Ewok like celebration in the end.

Although I couldn't connect with this issue's story, I definitely enjoyed Dave Sim' art, which was expressive and effective considering his personified animal subjects. His ink stroke reminded me of John Byrne's for some reason; further, the series of supplemental Panda Khan pin-ups, including the likes of Sam Keith, Don Simpson, and Jim Valentino, was a welcome bonus.

Since I've begun this series of animal-oriented titles, I’ve acquired a few more, potentially obscure creature comic books that I’d love to review. Unfortunately, as I've mentioned before, February warrants attention in other areas, so we'll have to wait until perhaps the rabbit-centric Easter or turkey-lovin' Thanksgiving to see the likes of Varmints or Oink: Heaven's Butcher. It should be worth the wait.