ONE CELL PHONE AND NO CIGARETTES, ACTUALLY: A review of CELL PHONES AND CIGARETTES #1

When one peruses Artists Alley at any convention, one must make peace with the idea that most of the books you buy there will contain typos or outright misspellings. However, even to a seasoned pro, it’s hard to come upon a book with such atrocious spelling and grammar that it completely takes you out of the story. CELL PHONES AND CIGARETTES is that kind of book.



From the very get-go, writer and illustrator Raven Johnson fucks up. On the inside cover is a completely unnecessary introduction, where he goes on to explain why this book exists and what stories it contains, rather than having the confidence in letting the stories speak for themselves. Even worse, he explains them in the worst way. For example, regarding the first story, he says, “I don’t want to give too much of the plot away. Basically it’s a love story of two kids in their early 20’s . . . back in the year 2000. There’s alot [sic] more to it . . . so stay tuned!” Actually, he’s just said absolutely nothing about the story, and there isn’t much more to it. “Inner City Ellen” is the story of Ellen, who is grieving because her boyfriend left her. Or is dead. Or something. Johnson never goes into that. All we know is that she misses him, and she’s reminded of the good times when she trips over his old Dreamcast controller. (This lame thing leads to an even lamer memory.) She’s in a hurry, but on her way out, she runs into a naked guy at her door . . . and that’s it.


“Extreme Anarchy” is up next, and it is the story of attractive superheroes taking on a supervillain who has a taste for hot chicks and is turned on when he sees who he’s up against. Seriously, that’s all it’s about.


The next two pages contain three small strips. The first is about one friend telling another friend about a weird acid trip she took at a party. The only point seems to be to get across the idea that she tried to eat herself while tripping out. The next is about a woman changing clothes. Yeah, that's it. And the next is about a woman who gets naked and pops a pimple near her belly button before she takes a shower.


There is one more strip that’s a bit longer, but it seems to be about nothing more than a guy trying to make a mix-tape for his love interest, and then he winds up telling his friend about the time he got his ex-girlfriend off using the Rumble Pak/Dualshock/whatever vibrating thing on his game controller.


The only story in this entire issue that could actually qualify as a story is “My Untitled Horror Podcast,” which is about a woman uses a podcast to tell horror stories. She tells the tale of a high school girl who is eager to turn 16 and get a car from her parents, but when her down-on-his-luck brother moves back in, they give him the car instead, so he can get a job. This infuriates her, so she uses a guy at school who has been after her for quite some time to exact her vengeance on her brother. Ultimately, it’s a weak story, but at least it has structure and plot, which the others do not have. There is no point to the other stories, especially the shorts, except to maybe titillate a drunk reader.


The problem is right there in the introduction. Johnson says that he was invited to a convention a while ago, but all he had were prints to sell. He wanted to put out a comic book, so he did. What he doesn’t admit is, he’s not a writer. He just doesn’t have it in him. His artwork is actually pretty good. Maybe someday, he’ll even be great.


But, let’s face it. He does more than confuse “your” and “you’re.” He thinks “coordinates” is “coordinance.” He says “breaks” when he means “brakes.” And when a character doesn’t get her way, she blurts out, “FML!” Stuff like that can really ruin a reading experience.


There is no heart and soul in this; there is only a bunch of stuff that might make a frat boy laugh when he’s at his drunkest. What Johnson needs to do is make friends with a good writer. One day, he could make for an excellent illustrator. He’s got a visual feel for the motion of the story.


If he was really so dead-set on doing this on his own, what he should have done is use the narrator of the podcast story as kind of a Crypt-Keeper for all of the stories. It’s a bit of a cheesy move, but at least it makes sense, whereas most of the stories in here don’t. Johnson is not without strengths; it’s just that he’s dragged under by his weaknesses, and he doesn’t seem capable of understanding what these are.


It might also help that, if you’re going to call your book CELL PHONES AND CIGARETTES, to actually have cell phones and cigarettes in the book. The phony ad in the back is kind of funny, though.


CELL PHONES AND CIGARETTES #1
Written and illustrated by Raven Johnson
Published by Raven J!
28 pages
$4