I pre-ordered my copy of "Kramers Ergot" #7 back in August, and it finally arrived last week, just in time to wrap up my 2008 run on "When Words Collide."(For the record, even though last week's column was blurbed as my "penultimate column," I'm still going to be churning these suckers out every week in 2009. It was probably supposed to read "penultimate column of 2008," but the word count was too high for the blurb or something. Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me with concern about it.)
Anyway, in "Confronting Kramers" I take a gander at the massive "Kramers" volume and do what every sane, level-headed comic book pundit would do: I compare it to "Rann-Thanagar Holy War" #8 and "Hulk" #9. I mean, the connection is obvious. One is a high-priced, ambitious, impressive art comic of tremendous splendor and aesthetic range, while the other two are about punching real hard. But "Kramers" #7 is about punching, too! And I didn't just want to go through all 60 stories and tell you which ones are good or bad or anything like that. It's not that type of book. It's the type of book that can only be understood in relation to the generic superhero comics of the day. Or maybe that's a completely insane idea that makes no sense whatsoever. Your call.
I recently had my first exposure to Eightball & Dan Clowes' work via a friend of mine loaning me the first 18 issues, so I'm going to somewhat plagiarize your premise and write about my reactions, as someone who primarily sticks to mainstream superheroes, to "artistic" indy comics. I love stealing.
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