Paradox Press' "Factoid Books" Big Book of fill in blank is a series I have fond memories of, though I never bought any of them. I recall spending time flipping through them while hanging out at Barnes and Noble and Borders book stores, back when I was not really that into comics but intrigued by weird historical stories, legends, and mysterious events. This series was one of the sources that, I think, started to get me to change my mind on the idea of graphic novels. Full of "100% true" stories of aliens, gruesome murders, and drugs, it was like Ripley's Believe It Or Not for the nineties.   

Over time, I've managed to gather a small collection of my favorites at various library book sales and stops at Half Price Books, and recently I read through a few of them. As products of an earlier period of pop culture, I can't say they really hold up. It was funny to see how rooted to the period they are. The series strikes me as being particularly, inescapably '90s in style, topics, and conception. Anthologies of comic vignettes depicting various topics, stories, and people, the Big Books reflected the pop culture interest in this stuff that was big at the time. Written in a tongue in cheek, overly "irreverent" style, little really sticks. All black and white, the artists included were, in general, pretty standard comic book styles, with some detail lost due to the lack of color in a few of them. 

The Big Book of the '70s and the Big Book of the Weird Wild West were the most historical, focusing on the current 1990s nostalgia for all things seventies and all the over the top tall tales of the "Wild West" stoked by recent revisionist westerns. Both of them had some interesting, little known stories included, in particular the Big Book of the '70s, which did a pretty good job painting a picture of what American society was like at the time. The Weird Wild West occasionally got a little bit speculative for it's "100% true" billing, drawing strongly from period penny dreadfuls rather than vetted historical accounts. Still, both of them have some pretty good and comprehensive bibliographies to look into.  

The "100% true" descriptor falls on even shakier ground with these two, which felt particularly dated to that period when everyone was watching the X-Files and 9/11 had not yet struck. There's something that just feels so quaint about the Kennedy Assassination and the Hopskinville Goblins after the events of the last twenty years. I have to admit feeling quite bored getting through these two, though perhaps its because I've seen these same stories repeated again and again in all this paranormal conspiratorial literature. Even the addition of comic Charles Fort narrating did not really save them. There were still a few good strips, though, like the entry on Chupacabras (appropriate, since the beast was only a year or so old at the time).

The Big Book of Urban Legends was, of course, my favorite of the lot, simply feature comic adaptations of famed folklorist Jan Harald Brunvand's popular urban legend accounts from his various books. From the funny to the horrifying, they're all here and in probably the best art of the series. On the other hand, this may be the most disturbing of the series as well, with frequent sexualized violence, misogyny, and racism, which of course reflects the fears of such "friend of a friend" tales. Still, the artists did a good job depicting a diverse cast of characters in many of the stories.   

In the end, the Factoid Books are pure nostalgia, from a time in which Men in Black (the mysterious figures who show up after paranormal events, not the movie) and a hook handed killer were seen as scary. 100% true, maybe not, but 100% nineties! 

*Theme music for entry: "Flagpole Sitta," Harvey Danger, Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?, 1997

New England's Scariest Stories and Urban...

Disclaimer: ARC read via Netgalley

                I actually was pleasantly surprised by this little book. This is a collection of urban legends or myths about New England. The most well known starts the book off. This would be the story of Champ, America’s version of Loch Ness (in fact, it seems at least every continent, if not country has one of these). The sources used in this section range the gamut from older material to more modern sources. There is even some science thrown in for good measure.

                Champ is probably the best known story outside of New England, and the other stories I was not familiar with at all. There are, however, some variations of them in other sections. New Jersey seems to have version of the Dover Demon and the Pigman. Philadelphia has a variation of the throne mentioned in the chapter about the The Little People’s Village.

                And that chapter is actually a nice and surprising one. I love reading books like these because of the folklore and history that are contained in them. Too often, however, authors take some of the stories so seriously. It has a ghost, it’s scary and it must be true. It’s nice to see that Pardis and McManus don’t check their brains out there. The research involved their journeying to the places describe and checking out sources. Sometimes, this means they debunk the story, or to be more accurate, tell the reader the true history.

                I have to say that the weakest part for me of this book was the use of Wikipedia in the source listing. I should note that it is my own personal dislike for the use of it as a source. The book does not read like a reworded Wikipedia entry, and Pardis and McManus are at least honest in including. While the book’s tone and style are not quite up to the level of L.B. Taylor Jr’s great books about Virginia, it is an enjoyable read and nicely illustrated with photographs.

Sunday morning. Coffee and the chupacabra. As you do.