The owner of Knockabout Publishing, Tony Bennett (don’t start) is one of the brighter, more capable editors in the business alongside Ron Turner of Last Gasp, Denis Kitchen of the late Kitchen Sink, and the Fantagraphics gang.
While coffee is its excuse for formation, much of the magazine always feature cutting edge people like Rick Geary, Peter Kuper, and Keith Knight, folks who otherwise get seen nationally and have something to say with a twist.
Maxon Crumb is the brother of American-cartoonist-gone-to-France, Robert Crumb. Maxon showed up in the movie Crumb as one of Robert’s crazier brothers. He’s the one who did not commit suicide and was discovered in the underbelly of San Francisco.
I had a chance to talk with ex-underground great, Jaxon recently. His real name is Jack Jackson and with the underground comics, he was only getting started. He’s gone onto illustrating books, too many to mention, let alone collect, and has risen to be a true Texas historian.
Additional adult-oriented comic titles include Shaundra, Tart, Ship of Fools, Demi, and One Fisted Tales. They even feature truly underground titles like LCD #1, The Complete Crumb, and Horny Biker Sluts to name a few of my favorites.
It’s a hardcover, about 300 pages, and well-designed by Dutch undergrounder, Joost Swarte. It’s chock-full of obscure magazine covers, European oddities, and lost and forgotten trading cards and record covers that Crumb has done over the years that never saw real exposure.
Hate died two years ago, abandoned by Peter. This item features two all-new strips including an unpublished Buddy Bradley strip and several unpublished items.
160 pages of some of the best of the original underground artists like Bode, Crumb, and Shelton mixed with newcomers like Kiernan Sawyer and Randy Vogel. It’s good for the occasional fan that prefers a compilation to a half dozen obscure comix.
Major titles of the recent past include Speigelman’s holocaust tale, Maus, Cruse’s coming of gay age Stuck Rubber Baby, and Talbot’s child abuse homage, One Bad Rat.
If any American subgroup has a handle on nearly institutionalized rebellion and advanced fuck-you, it’s the infamous Oakland chapter of the Hell’s Angels.