I know I should be playing catch-up on readers’ picks—and I am, I swear it!—but I couldn’t help recapping other books that have come my way. And by some other books I mean whether book happens to be in at my local library. Hence Recommended by the Broadway Library.

For my first entry in this procrastinational series, my love goes to the outlanders—you know, books by foreign authors and artists teaching us about their native lands. And robots. Native robots. First up, Aya of Yop City (Marguerite Abouet, Clement Oubrerie). Aya I won’t say too much about, as I unwittingly picked up the second book in the series, so any attempts at summary won’t suffice. Roughly speaking, we have 19 year-old Aya, living in Ivory Coast in the 1970s, and she has shenanigans. Abouet and Oubrerie’s storytelling is smart, intimate, and poignant—and never for a panel loses its easy tone. The whole book is incredibly delightful, with beautiful girls and funny stories, and I am forcing it upon teens and old folk alike.

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My second pick, Pluto (Naoki Urasawa), Vol 1 & 2 has been out for a while, and lauded continuously—Michelle over at Manga Recon wrote a sharpreview on Vol 1back in February—and I absolutely agree with all the love. The premise is a revision of Tezuka’s famed Astro Boy by Naoki Urasawa, the Mighty Adam made adult if you will. Vol 1 introduces a robot detective trying to solve a series of murders targeting the world’s elite robots, and in Vol 2 we find the Astro Boy to be one of the targets.

For anyone familiar with Urasawa’s other works (Monster, 20th Century Boys), it will come as no surprise that Pluto spins the happy-go-lucky Mighty Atom into a mature, suspenseful tale. But it’s not so much the dimension that Urasawa adds to Tezuka’s creation that I find most alluring, but how well the sci-fi setting suits Urasawa’s taut storytelling. In 20th Century Boys, Urasawa turns the realm of the ordinary a space of tension by making his heroes (and villains) emphatically ordinary. A similar transformation occurs in the Pluto—here, the futuristic is presented as the everyday, and the everyday once again is the site of the greatest drama. Urasawa’s writing is enhanced by his solemn lines and neat panels. The whole manga carries a really appropriate kind of sadness, muted and tender.

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I also really dug this short from Mome Winter 2006: The Armed Garden (David B.). The biblically-styled comic unfolds around prophet-lords of sorts, each governing with their own system of illogic, and the battles that incur as they attempt to find and colonize Paradise. The story is a bit of a wild beast, quite possibly rabid, and it is hard to describe what happens. What begins as conventions of religious fanaticisms (the visions, the conversions, the wars) mutates into something far less recognizable—militant black bears, trees with eyeballs, and this goose (his name is Pet Goose) that gains speech mostly because it was spoken to. But what is even more impressive than the sheer magnitude of insanity is the easy manner in which said insanity is delivered. The storytelling is extraordinarily tight—the art is refreshingly clean, the narration is straightforward, and the pacing never rushes or lingers. Moreover, the nonchalant tone lends the over-the-top narrative a subtle brand of humor.
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Exotic things at the Queens Library are indeed beguiling. But before we go out and seek comfort in foreign bed, a word of caution—The Vinyl Underground (Si Spencer, Simon Gane), Vol 1 & 2? DESERVES A PUNCH IN THE FACE. I see Vinyl as a poorly conceived and poorly executed version of Casanova . “Moz” Shepherd (like Cas) plays playboy lead, fighting and philandering (Cas again) through the panels. [Spoiler: And he’s got a sister who kinda functions like his evil twin. Huh.] Shepherd leans towards the occult while Cas play secret agent, but the biggest difference between Vinyl and Casanova lies not so much in generic distinctions so much as general quality. Where Casanova had been sexy and slick, Vinyl comes off trashy and desperate. Oh, but good job biting Casanova’s haircut! That’s pretty spot on.
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There’s more notables in the vein of great foreign writing—all highly accessible, mind you, cause libraries love foreigners. So check back, Recommendable reviews of The Rabbi’s Cat and Planetes on the horizon.