It’s back! Welcome to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife Anne or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-five years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place.

I’ve previously written why I don’t do eBooks. Perhaps someday I’ll also explain why these capsules are exclusive to MCC and not shared on Amazon, Goodreads, or other sites where their authors might prefer I’d share them. In the meantime, here’s a new start for me and my reading results, which we’ll begin modestly for brevity’s sake, or what passes for same in my head.

1. Maureen Ryan, Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood (2023). Remember all those entertainment headlines from early June about behind-the-scenes malfeasance and crimes during the making of such beloved works as Lost, SNL, The Goldbergs, everything with Scott Rudin’s name on it, and more? The bombshell-dropping book that launched a thousand news-sites articles has far more to offer if you read it for yourself rather than settling for Reader’s Digest TL;DR pull-quote recaps. Ryan is a longtime critic and journalist (currently at Vanity Fair) who’s made a career of this beat, knows full well the evils Hollywood can do, survived her own encounters with that culture, and has the rock-solid come-at-me-bro attitude to compile such a thorough, often horrifying rundown of star-studded abusive workplaces that skate by with negligible accountability, decency deprivation, executive enablers, and a hollow ends-justify-the-means business model that thrives on freedom from consequences, uses cash as Band-Aids, and rewards behaviors that would’ve gotten them fired from an ethically professional employer in their first week on the job.

Ryan goes deep and hits hard as she examines examples that each have their own causes and influences, whether it’s unchecked egos, “that’s just the way things always are” resignation, or the creative stagnation of demographically monotonous staffs that can breed malefactors like a dirty pond hosting mosquito eggs. (Hollywood’s century-wide DEI issues are a prevalent discussion topic.) Her inquiries elicited testimonials from victims and witnesses alike; received only staid form letters from corporate heads; but also drew surprisingly candid responses from a few folks under fire (Lost co-runner Damon Lindelof, former Goldbergs head-of-household Jeff Garlin), some of whom show more remorse and self-awareness than others. Longtime MCC readers can understand my deep interest in the chapter on how Sleepy Hollow fell to pieces (I fired my shots at the time and was surprised how many fellow fans shared my wavelength, often with a fury far hotter than mine), but my jaw may have dropped the lowest during the chapter about, of all things, ABC’s misbegotten 2015 Muppets relaunch.

But Ryan doesn’t limit Burn It Down to a litany of terrors, a righteous grimace and a podium-pounding exit. The final 100 pages take the next logical step very few celeb tell-alls attempt: she offers suggestions for how to fix any of this, and how to stop perpetuating the success of boys’-club mentalities and reign of nigh-omnipotent rage-monsters. If you’re a showrunner or an exec who genuinely isn’t sure what a non-dysfunctional workplace looks or feels like, Ryan has ideas for your consideration, as do some of her seemingly well-behaved interviewees of power (e.g., benevolent FX head John Landgraf). Because as George Carlin once said, “Some people need practical advice.” (One misstep I couldn’t get on board with: a chapter about the controversial concept of restorative justice. I can see merits for its application in some situations — I’ve even seen conservative Christian pundits make a case for it — but one of its examples, involving an unnamed Hollywood serial rapist, leads to a conclusion that makes its victim’s responses feel somewhere between short-sighted naivete and blinkered narcissism.)

Overall, Burn It Down is absolutely necessary, demands to be heeded, and denies the silence that’s preserved Hollywood’s hermetic bubble for untold decades. If you’re parasocially enthralled by any of the accused, maybe think about whether you’re part of the problem.

2. Dave Gibbons, Confabulation: An Anecdotal Autobiography (2023). The co-creator of Watchmen should need no introduction, but his half-century in the comics medium spans every major publisher on each side of the Atlantic and encompasses countless upstanding works beyond just the one maxiseries. Apropos of Doctor Manhattan, Gibbons has compiled his memoirs not in chronological order, but alphabetically by subjects personal, popular, and/or obscure, from Aliens to Zarga — Man of Mystery. The further you read, the fuller his Big Picture interlocks. If you love lists and capsules half as much as I do, so much the better.

A jaunty raconteur who can deftly maneuver a tale toward an apt punchline ending and who can be a gentlemanly diplomat when he feels it proper, Gibbons guides us through his British upbringing, his former day job as an architectural surveyor, his early days as a fledgling letterer and cartoonist, his big comics-biz breaks over there and with America’s Big Two, the friends he made along the way, and the gigs that led up to his multiple collaborations with that legendary Watchmen writer, which happen to include one of my favorite Superman stories, “For the Man Who Has Everything” (a meaningful moment for Gibbons the lifelong Superman fan). Life keeps moving fast after that pivotal 1986-1987 epic and the media’s treatment of him as a rock star of sorts, complete with TV interviews and world comic-con tours. He finds satisfaction in solo books (The Originals is worth hunting down); enjoys writing projects for others to draw; dabbles in video games; becomes among the early pioneers navigating the new frontier of digital art tools; and gets more than a little giddy when Zack Snyder invites him to the Watchmen adaptation set and shows him his own images brought to life in three million-dollar dimensions.

Completists will need the enclosed bibliography of all his pro comics work from 1971 through March 2022. Art aficionados will love the wide selection of his illustrations both immediately relevant to and beyond the essayed subjects, from childhood scribbles on up. I smiled at seeing the program cover he drew for Motor City Comic Con 2017, where we attended his Q&A and heard him expound on a few of the subjects covered herein. And yes, members of the comics press, you’ll also read what’ll likely be the most detailed account ever shared regarding What Happened Between Him and Alan Moore and when their communication line was severed with seeming, sorrowing finality. But that singular subject of much reader curiosity isn’t where his jovial Memory Lane stroll ends. There’s far more to Gibbons’ legacy than just the one writer.

More to come!