Fort Mentality (Part 1)

I recently read Jonathan Lethem’s “Fortress of Solitude,” a novel that combines autobiographical elements of his life with an exploration of the gentrification of the Gowanus neighborhood in Brooklyn.  Of course, the title refers to Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, the only place where the hero could truly be himself.  Lethem explores the time and place, 1970s Brooklyn, with such autistic intensity that I feel I know it as well as Superman’s Fortress, but it also reminded me of my own childhood goal to “build a fort.”


Perhaps kids have always built forts. Maybe for boys it was a way to play house without acknowledging it’s playing house.  During World War II the fort was a bunker, a place to fight the Nazis and Japs.  In the 50s, with a glut of Westerns on TV, the fort became a cavalry outpost or a cowboy hideout.  As the US space program took off, kids imagined space stations and interstellar vessels.  Any hidey-hole could become the conn of the Enterprise. The only requirement for a fort was a place that kids could call their own, protected from intruders.

The silver age comics of the 60s had many templates for kids to use in play.  Aside from Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, the other most famous secret hideout is the Batcave.  I can’t count how many times I pored over four-color schematics of the Batman’s headquarters rendered in Ben-Day newsprint.

The Batcave was a natural formation under Wayne Manor, but Batman collected all the essential ingredients to success: a crime lab, computers, an underground garage with Bat-vehicles, and a trophy room with memorabilia from past cases, including a giant penny and a T-Rex.  But more importantly, the Batcave had secret passageways for entering, and security that included booby traps and alarms. No villains could enter without suffering harm and alerting the Batman.

The first mention of the Batcave in comics was in a daily strip as early as 1943, so it’s no surprise that when the Fortress of Solitude was introduced in a 1958 story in Action Comics by Jerry Coleman and Wayne Boring it closely followed the Bat-template for a super sanctum. Carved into the polar ice, only Superman’s strength can heft the key used to gain entry.  Primarily a place to retreat from the world and think, the Fortress of Solitude also eventually housed a lab for researching an antidote to Kryptonite, a place for recuperating after battles, and a collection of artifacts honoring Krypton, including the shrunken city of Kandor.  Superman also keeps a manly diary, a book with steel plated pages which he writes on using his super-strength finger.

At DC, aside from Superman and Batman, super-hero teams had the monopoly on secret headquarters. Before the Justice League of America moved to their geosynchronous satellite (orbiting at 22,300 miles above the Earth) their headquarters were in a secret cave near Happy Harbor, Rhode Island.  The Challengers of the Unknown occupied Challenger Mountain, hidden deep in the Colorado Rockies.  In the 30th century, the Legion of Super-Heroes had a clubhouse paid for by eccentric millionaire R.J. Brande.

Similarly, the super-hero teams at Marvel comics staked out their own territory.  The cut-away view of the Baxter Building from Fantastic Four Annual #3 shows “New York’s most famous skyscraper tower…headquarters of the most colorful super-hero combo the civilized world has ever known.” One-upping the Batcave, it has multiple labs, several hangars for vehicles including one for the Pogo Plane, and even a home theater labeled as a “projection room.”

Less exciting, but no less plush is the Avengers Mansion, originally Tony Stark’s personal mansion but donated to the team as a place to crash, sometimes literally.  Even the junior heroes get in on the action. Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters is the public name for the X-Men’s home base.  Although it has been shown in the movies, the most alluring part of their school was the Danger Room.  Before it became sentient, it was described as "a huge unfurnished chamber which houses countless hidden perils!" This allowed for the artist of the month to draw pretty much whatever he wanted in terms of danger.

Of all the heroes who had secret hideouts, it’s perhaps ironic that the youngest hero of the 60’s, Spider-Man, the one who most needed a place of his own, didn’t have one. This link, from the 70’s, emphasizes this need.

But there was one for fort me that was the best... (continued on next page following)

When the X-Men Met Frankenstein

X-Men #40  (1968) has perhaps one of the best examples of an intergalactic facepalm.

The X-Men meet Frankenstein's monster, which turns out not to be a living monster, but an android built by an alien race on a wandering planetoid 150 years prior.

These ancient astronauts figured that a grotesque monster would be the perfect way to test the humans of Earth. "If he is received with understanding by them -- we will then establish personal contact."

Of course, what really happened is that Mary Shelley spotted this android near Lac Leman in Geneva Switzerland, wrote her story, and inspired a dozen Universal movies, including Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein.  Does that count as understanding? I'd have to say it's a resounding "Yes!" so where are those tropical aliens?  We'll come back to that in a moment.

For some reason Frankenstein's monster was popular in the early 60's, possibly because he represented a tragic hero to the counter-culture.  Hammer Films revived the monster (sans neck bolts) in a series of films starting in 1957, spawning an interest in Gothic horror.  On a lighter note, both The Addams Family and The Munsters appeared on TV in 1964.

Frankenstein's monster was also appearing in other comics.  DC had Frankenstein's monster appear in Superman No. 143 (February 1961), in a story entitled "Bizarro Meets Frankenstein!"  When I was a kid, DC's later Bob Hope comics with Super-Hip were totally confusing.  These comics mashed together movie monsters, super-heroes, and Bob Hope in a near stream-of-consciousness plot that didn't always make sense, but looked like fun.



It is surprising that both DC and Marvel got away with presenting Frankenstein's monster with the green skin, flat head and neck bolts.  Although Mary Shelley's version was written in 1810, long enough to be out of any copyright, the description in the book is not the same as in the movie.  Universal's representation of Frankenstein's monster is unique enough that they have tried to enforce their rights to the look of their movie monster.  That's one reason why the monster has a different look in the Hammer films.

According to a recent report from a book publisher, Universal is clamping down on any monster that has all of the following elements:

• Green Skin
• Flat Top Head
• Scar on Forehead
• Bolts on the Neck
• Protruding Forehead

So, did Earth receive Frankenstein's monster with understanding? Did the mutant X-Men succeed in representing the human race. Short answer: the X-Men meet the monster, battle it out, and obliterate him. Only at the conclusion does Professor X unearth the secret.  As Cyke bemoans at one point "If only we could somehow have reasoned with him...".  Sorry Earth, but Mary Shelley did a better job.

The Magic of Cartoons

Others have written oodles on how comics work and the mechanics of the comic book medium. Scott McCloud, for example, has several books examining how layout, composition and the space between the panels affect what works, what has been tried, and how to use the "rules" of comics. I'm not going to attempt to add or refute any of that. 

Considering the recent attacks in Paris at the offices of Charlie Hebdo, however, one has to ask how is it that cartoons can have such an impact? What is it about a cartoon that causes someone to hate so much they end up killing? I can barely comprehend it, but I understand the power of cartoons to focus ideas and emotions. Look at any comic book convention to see how comics and cartoons gather people together to flock among their tribes. For example, I offer my own personal anecdote on how cartoons can bring us together.

One Christmas, years ago, I received a copy of "Ten Ever-Lovin' BLue-Eyed Years with Pogo" by Walt Kelly. As a kid, I thought this was the best book ever. "Pogo" which started in newspapers in 1949, relates the antics of Pogo Possum and his friends who live in the Okefenokee Swamp. Characters include Albert Alligator, a turtle named Churchy La Femme, and the self-declared wise Howland Owl. The daily strips have a goofy mix of foreground earnestness often undercut by minor or unnamed swampland folk. Kelly used multi-week story arcs punctuated by daily humor, a storytelling formula which kept readers hooked for years. And best of all, the strip had an edge which made it unpredictable. Often the edge consisted of skewering national political figures, but other times it was a chance to comment on national fads or opinions such as atomic energy, the Communist witch hunts, and even when Armistice Day was renamed to Veteran's Day.

One particular daily sticks with me, so much that I often quote it. Here it is:

I find so many great things in this strip. The line art is amazing - cartoony without slop. So many curved lines: in the characters, the speech balloons, the desk, even down to the panels, it all feels organic. Yet, the lines are spare, not a lot of hatching, no cross-hatching, no grays. The art was designed for appearing on newsprint in a poorly printed daily. The images have been distilled to the most essential, distinctive elements. For example, see how Pogo at the typewriter in the background of the first panel is clearly identifiable. Despite the swamp setting, this is some kind of office. Meanwhile, in the foreground Churchy and Owl carry the action, and the black field of grass makes the foreground pop even more.

The dialogue is also engaging. Owl's first balloon: "A cat! Phoo! You calls that news? Everybody must of seed a cat sometime." It's not at all grammatically correct, but it captures a distinctive voice. How does he pronounce "Phoo"? Is is "poo" or more like "foo"? Perhaps Kelly himself doesn't know the answer, but the reader's internal voice knows what someone like Owl would say when his reporter has a cat story, and it is "Phoo!"

Of course Churchy has something more than a cat story, but there's a fact-checking problem. Churchy explains, and then challenges. Owl, the self-proclaimed brains of Okefenokee, doesn't want to admit his ignorance, and after a perfectly timed awkward pause decides to run the cat story. Is Kelly commenting on the superficiality of the news, deciding to go with the easy story rather than pushing the comfort zone? Or is it just a funny animal story? "Can you spell armadillo, chief?"

The best part of this strip is that there's something funny in every panel, and some panels have multiple funny bits. In panel one I find the following funny: Owl's dialogue, the sign that says "Noose Desk" (news desk), the "Gloo + Ink" pot, Churchy's snappy reporter outfit, and the fact that I can read the entire news items on the page ("my pa saw a cat las yr"). The humor is strong through final panel: we have not only the punch line and the frog child in the wastebasket, but check out Churchy's expression - he considers it "another job well done". I can't tell from Pogo's expression whether he's going to question the story or not. He looks like he'd going to question it, but knowing Pogo's a pretty easy-going 'possum so he might accept it at face value.

Now, when I'm in a situation where people are avoiding the central topic because it's a hard question, I think "My daddy saw a cat last year."

The magic of a cartoon is that it is an effective method of communication. It uses at least two modes -- graphics and text -- to share an idea between the author and the reader. As a reader, my brain can't not read the words, but the images support the story, filling in any information not contained in the dialogue. Together they are a one-two punch straight to the brain.

Effective cartoons use images and text in a complementary way, but also distill them to the essence. Ivan Brunetti's "Cartooning" spends pages discussing how to refine drawings until every line is absolutely necessary. Before cartooning, Walt Kelly worked as both a journalist and as an animator and storyboard artist for Disney. Journalists have to learn how to write concise stories that still convey all the information. At Disney, studios artists had plenty of practice drawing but also learned how to capture the personality of a character in the sketch. This comic strip is not an owl, a turtle and a possum. It is a set of lines on paper, but through his artistry Kelly has given them life and set them in a milieu that exists for us, the readers.

Years later my own son was looking for something entertaining to read and I gave him my copy of "Ten Ever-Lovin' BLue-Eyed Years with Pogo." He loved it as much as I did, reading it multiple times. One day we read the cat strip together and we both laughed. But then something interesting happened.

Much later, we were having a family discussion and we came to some hard topic. I said, "My daddy saw a cat last year." My wife, who may or may not have read Pogo, was baffled. But my son understood the reference immediately, and the humor from the strip spilled into the discussion and gave us some perspective. This is also the magic of comics: The one-two punch stays in the brain, and even when only part of the work is referred to, the rest comes along for the ride.

So, from the genius of Walt Kelly, I not only receive his vision, but get to share it with others, and in sharing it becomes a common point of reference in our lives. Much like Brady Bunch was to a generation of kids, or like Caddyshack is with my college pals, or The Simpsons, Star Trek, and Wonder Woman are to millions of fans.

The advantage of cartoons, however, is that cartoonists are the original auteurs. In the 1960's the French New Wave film school said that

"a director's film reflects the director's personal creative vision, as if they were the primary 'auteur' (the French word for 'author'). In spite of—and sometimes even because of—the production of the film as part of an industrial process, the auteur's creative voice is distinct enough to shine through studio interference and the collective process." 

In comics, the production process is small enough that one or two or a few creators can work together to ensure the artist vision.

So, this is the magic of cartoons: a cartoonist can create a world using only a few pen strokes and this world is transmitted directly into our brains using both language and imagery. It's a direct feed to the brain, and that's why it inspires both so much love and hate.  Cartoons are a medium, and used effectively that medium can bring people together, or divide them; cause them to question the establishment, follow a religion, or brush their teeth.  It's a powerful magic. Remember that next time someone says they saw a cat last year.

We are all Charlie

The attack on Charlie Hebdo is a coward's act.

Using guns and violence to silence voices who are seeking to explore and enlighten the world is the result of someone who fears their own reality. The result of someone who can't reconcile their thoughts with the world around them. Unfortunately, people use religion and weapons as a way to justify their actions.

As Salman Rushdie writes,

“Religion, a mediaeval form of unreason, when combined with modern weaponry becomes a real threat to our freedoms. This religious totalitarianism has caused a deadly mutation in the heart of Islam and we see the tragic consequences in Paris today. I stand with Charlie Hebdo, as we all must, to defend the art of satire, which has always been a force for liberty and against tyranny, dishonesty and stupidity. ‘Respect for religion’ has become a code phrase meaning ‘fear of religion.’ Religions, like all other ideas, deserve criticism, satire, and, yes, our fearless disrespect.”

The details of the attack are unclear. This is known: three masked gunmen attacked the Paris offices of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine similar to early Mad magazine or the National Lampoon. The result, twelve people dead, many more in mourning.

The magazine's site now has a black page that says "Je Suis Charlie" ("I am Charlie"). If you click on the link for the pdf, you will see the same phrase in Arabic, German, Spanish, and other languages.

I recently wrote a blog post about the evolution of comics in France. Despite its age, Charlie Hebdo is still admittedly edgy  A 2011 issue was renamed "Charia Hebdo," guest-edited by Mohammed. So, I was surprised to hear it mentioned on the morning radio news. Then saddened. Then devastated.

We are all Charlie. Art makes a difference. Look at the world for enlightenment.

"Blacksad" by Juan Diaz Canales and Juanjo Guarnido

Blacksad is a volume of three graphic novelettes written by  Juan Diaz Canales and drawn by Juanjo Guarnido centered around the character of John Blacksad, a tough detective who lives in a tough town.

The first story, "Somewhere Within the Shadows," centers around the death of an actress with whom Blacksad was once romantically involved. "Arctic Nation," the second story, is more forced but manages to work in the fact that the characters are animals a lot better. It deals with a small town where white power animals, such as weasels, polar bears, foxes and goats, are clashing with black activists such as crows, horses, and bulls.  The black vs white conflict also involves the local sheriff, a missing girl, and incestuous relationships. Of all the stories, this feels the most like a Dashiel Hammet story.  The final story "Red Soul" is set in the mid to late 50's, and concerns atomic research, communist bashing, and a small circle of poets, artists and intellectuals.  A rooster named Senator Gallo does a good job impersonating Sen. McCarthy.  I also enjoyed the characterization of the ferret reporter.

Canales seems to have a lot of fun matching the characterization with the appropriate animals.  Guarnido's art is lushly watercolored with amazing detail, yet the characters don't get lost in the composition. The stories seem, to me, obviously a European, although I couldn't put a finger on why.

Just the art itself is worth buying the book, but like Dashiell Hammett, the way the character and plot is woven together makes it worth reading and re-reading the stories.

"Cartooning: Philosophy and Practice" by Ivan Brunetti

In the 1970s I got a copy of Marvel's How To Draw Comics The Marvel Way which I was sure would turn me into a superstar artist and get me a place on the next issue of the Punisher.  From that book I learned some ideas - three point perspective, using "heads" to measure height, good composition and action poses, but somehow the book didn't inspire me to draw.  My results didn't look like John Buscema's or Jack Kirby's artwork (surprise!) and I gave it up.

Flash forward thirty-plus years to when I found Ivan Brunetti's "Cartooning: Philosophy and Practice."  Brian Michael Bendis was at Stumptown Comics Fest talking about teaching comics and mentioned "Cartooning."  He emphasized the "Philosophy" portion of the title. Brunetti believes that images should tell the story, adding dialogue only when it naturally evolves within the story line.  Intrigued, I had to get a copy.

This is not a beginner's art book or a "how to draw" book.  It's specifically for people who want to cartoon -- those who want to distill a story to the simplest necessary artwork, yet still convey the artist's message.  The book is based on Brunetti's 15-week class on cartooning.

If Jack Kirby is the Wagner of the comics world, Brunetti is more like Philip Glass. His images are distilled to only the most necessary lines, leaving lots of white space to for emphasis.  Achieving similar results is deceptively difficult.  Exercise 1.1 in the book is to draw a car in 3 minutes. Then draw it again in 1 minute, then 30 seconds, then 15, then 5 seconds. This exercise helps you understand what is essential to the "car-ness" of the drawing.  The second chapter explores doing a similar exercise for a story.  He presents his version of "Catcher in the Rye" in a single panel.

The lessons cover spontaneous drawing, single-panel cartoons, four-panel strips, pages, grid layout, and more.  He includes tips on his tools, and talks about cartooning on computers versus paper.

Even for people who don't aspire to be artists, it is enlightening to do the exercises proposed in the book. Brunetti covers most of the questions that artists have to answer when putting together a visual story, and provides a vocabulary for discussing the problems.  Trying the exercises will give the reader a better understanding of the problem space.  Even without doing the work, "Cartooning" can be read cover-to-cover (70 pages) or used as a reference or inspiration.  It's worth owning.

"Lazarus" by Greg Rucka

"Lazarus" volume one begins with a plot like a roller-coaster chased by a tidal wave. Set in the nearish future, drought and famine has left the US collapsed into feudal clans, with the rest of humanity considered waste. Among the top soldiers of the clans are the bio-engineered assassins. The Father of Clan Carlyle is trying to hold his kingdom together while manipulating the Lazarus named Forever ("Eve") and the rest of the family into doing his bidding.

I bought a signed copy from Rucka and the inscription says "Hope you enjoy the world."  I have to confess, it's an interesting place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.  The family members are ruthless opportunists, and for the most part the landscape presents as desolate plains. In retrospect, it's like the TV show Dallas, except food is the new oil.

Like a roller-coaster, I'm looking forward to volume two, and the next terrifying ride.

French Comic Magazines - The Ninth Art

For as long as I can remember, people always told me that comic books in France were more respected, read by grown men on the Metro on their way to work.  When I finally visited France for the first time in the 1970s I found out this wasn't entirely true. In fact, comics in France cannot be compared to the floppies published by Marvel, DC and Dark Horse in the US.  One reason is that the form of the "comic" is different.

From early in the 20th century, European floppies were published weekly or monthly, but contained only a couple pages of any particular story. The publishers found a couple benefits in this: they could have a wide variety of stories in each magazine, readers would buy their favorite stories and discover other characters, and the artist could be paid a little at a time. When the story finally ended, it was often published in a hard-bound album. For example, Herge's Tintin stories were originally published in Le Petite Vingtieme, and then were later bound in the volumes readers in the US are familiar with.

Since the mid 1980s US publishers have begun to embrace the square bound compilation we call a "graphic novel," or trade paperbacks (TPBs).  Now, it's so ubiquitous that for the past 15 or 20 years Marvel and DC have regularly republished story arcs from monthly titles as compiled TPBs.

Aside from the form of comics, what about the content? Are comic stories and creators more respected in Europe?

In France and Belgium comics are referred to as BDs (bay-days), an abbreviation of phrase bandes dessinées which translates from the original description of the art form as "drawn strips". Since the 1960s comics in Europe have been recognized as "the ninth art." This phrase comes from a series of articles by Morris' (Maurice De Bevere) about the history of comics, which appeared in Spirou magazine from 1964 to 1967.

For years comics were primarily for kids. For example, one of the earliest French comic magazines, Le Petit Vingtieme published before WWII, had the original appearance of Tintin. Other popular comics were (and are) The Journal Mickey and Donald Magazine, which published many of the same Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck stories as Walt Disney Comics and Stories.  These comics may have been read by adults, and in later years the stories were more sophisticated and often by artists not found in the US, such as Floyd Gottfriedson, Don Rosa, but they were still primarily marketed toward kids. Other popular magazines for kids were Spirou, Tintin Magazine, and Pilote.

Spirou magazine (Le Journal de Spirou) is still published, a weekly Franco-Belgian comics magazine. Starting out in 1938, it was an eight-page weekly magazine with a mixture of short stories, gags, serial comics, and some American reprints.  Some of the more notable characters that ran in Spirou were Lucky Luke by Morris, the Smurfs by Peyo, Gil Jourdan by Maurice Tillieux, and Gaston Lagaffe by Andre Franquin.  These artists were often stylistically grouped as the Marcinelle School - a counterpoint to the ligne claire of the artists who appeared in Tintin magazine.

Tintin Magazine (Le Journal de Tintin) was published weekly from 1946 until 1993. In addition to publishing some Tintin stories, some artists and characters that might stand out were Hugo Pratt's Corto Maltese, Will Eisner's The Spirit.  Also, Willy Vandersteen's Bob et Bobette was a long-running popular comic.

Pilote was published in France from 1959 to 1989. While it was a magazine for kids, many of the artists who had work in the magazine went on to become major talents drawing stories for adults and beyond.  Most of the major French or Belgian talents of the magazine introduced major series in Pilote.  The examples are astounding: Astérix, Barbe-Rouge, Blueberry, Achille Talon, and Valérian et Laureline. Major writers like René Goscinny, Jean-Michel Charlier, Greg, and Jacques Lob, and artists such as Jijé, Morris, Albert Uderzo, Jean (Mœbius) Giraud, Enki Bilal, Jean-Claude Mézières, Jacques Tardi, Philippe Druillet, and Marcel Gotlib published in Pilote.

In a way, Pilote was an incubator for the more mature European comics that began to appear in the 1960s. Pilote also published several international talents such as Hugo Pratt, Frank Bellamy and Robert Crumb.  Some of the characters seen in Pilote were Asterix (1959–1973), Lucky Luke (1967–1973), Iznogoud (1968–1977), Petit Nicolas (1959–1965), Blueberry (1963–1973), Lucky Luke (1967–1973) and Lone Sloane (1970–1974).  You can find an index of Pilote issues here.



So, where is the cultural legitimacy?

Perhaps it started with the left-leaning satire magazine Charlie Hebdo (1969-present) and its precursor Hara-Kiri (1960-1970).  These were satirical magazines similar to Harvey Kurtzman's magazines Trump, Humbug or Help! The magazine ran under the title Hara-Kiri, but it was banned after they ran a cover joke about French president Charles de Gaulle's recent death. To side-step the ban the publisher renamed the magazine to Charlie Hebdo - an inside joke referring to a magazine that ran Charlie Brown comics called Charlie Mensuel (Charlie Monthly), and also to Charles De Gaulle's death.  Charlie Hebdo is still published, and apparently it's still edgy - a 2011 issue was renamed "Charia Hebdo," guest-edited by Mohammed.

After 1970, the market for mature, envelope-pushing, and bizarre comics seemed to explode with publications such as L'Echo des Savanes, Metal Hurlant, À Suivre, and Fluide Glacial.

L'Echo des Savanes (1972 - 2005)
L’Écho des Savanes featured the work of French and international authors and graphic artists in mature-oriented comics over the course of 34 years, temporarily ended publication in 2006 and relaunching in 2008.

In the early 70's notable artists were Alexis, Harvey Kurtzman, Jean Solé, and Moebius.  From 1975 to 1976 the magazine published work by Neal Adams, Richard Corben, Robert Crumb, Dick Giordano, Alejandro Jodorowsky, Jeff Jones, Gérard Lauzier, Jacques Lob, Georges Pichard, Jacques Tardi, Martin Veyron, Wallace Wood and Berni Wrightson.  The late 70s and early 80's saw stories from Jean Michel Charlier, Guido Crepax, Jean-Claude Forest, Carlos Giménez, Tanino Liberatore and Art Spiegelman. Later issues had work by Baru, Will Eisner, Milo Manara, Frank Miller, Jean-Marc Reiser, Alex Toth, Jano and Alex Varenne. In addition to "adult" comic strips, issues contained articles featuring photographs of semi-naked women.  Here is a link to an index of the issues.

Metal Hurlant (1975 - 1987; 2002-2006)
Métal Hurlant ("Howling Metal") was an anthology of science fiction and horror comics stories, created in 1974 by Jean Giraud (better known as Mœbius), Philippe Druillet, journalist-writer Jean-Pierre Dionnet and financial director Bernard Farkas. These four were collectively known as "Les Humanoïdes Associés" (United Humanoids), which became the name of the publishing house releasing Métal hurlant.  The magazine is perhaps best known in the US as "Heavy Metal", and inspired the movie by the same name. Many of the artists who published in L'Echo des Savanes can also be found in Metal Hurlant.  Here is a link to an index of back issues of Metal Hurlant.

(a suivre)... (1977 - 1997)
"À Suivre"  ("To Be Continued") is considered to have been one of the major vehicles for the development of Franco-Belgian comics during the 20th century.  It published major European comic book artists including Hugo Pratt, Jean-Claude Forest, Alexandro Jodorowsky, Milo Manara, Jean (Mœbius) Giraud, Jacques Tardi, François Bourgeon, F'Murr, Ted Benoît, Guido Crepax, Vittorio Giardino, François Schuiten, Benoît Sokal and François Boucq. Here's a link to the index of past issues.

Fluide Glacial (1975 - present)
Fluide Glacial is what might happen if Al Jaffee and Rod Serling were friends and talked Bill Gaines into doing a monthly anthology comic.  The stories are offbeat, sometimes infantile, and are often disturbing or have a shock twist ending.  During its years Fluide Glacial has featured the work of French and international authors and graphic artists such as Jacques Lob, Luc Nisset, Édika, Claire Bretécher, Jean Solé, François Boucq, Moebius, Jean-Claude Mézières, Loup, Daniel Goossens and André Franquin. It now sells some 120,000 copies a month.  Here's a link to the index of past issues.

B.D. L'hebdo De La B.D. (1977, 78)
This short-lived series, BD,  offered a platform for many influential artists, including Al Capp, Zippy the Pinhead artist Bill Griffith, Art Spiegelman, and Dutch cartoonist Joost Swarte. Jacques Tardi first introduced his character Adele Blanc-Sec in BD. Here's the index of past issues.

So, do adults read comic books on the Metro in Paris? Probably not so much. But they do read comics, and many comics are written specifically for French-speaking adults.  From this list of notable Franco-Belgian comics, perhaps only a third of them are for children, so there must be a market for more mature material. This list of the top 20 "coolest" French comics has a similar makeup.

Unfortunately, a lot of the anthology magazines have given up publishing. This may be due to the internet, and it could be that many artists are trying their hands at publishing digital comics. So, the time for reading comic books may be passing.  Instead, adults will be reading comics on their phones and tablets on the Metro. What's the French word for iPad?