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Paper Tiger Fantasy Art Gallery
edited by Paul Barnett
(Paper Tiger, $21.95, 144 pages, trade paperback, published August
2002.)
Once upon a time, for far too short a time, there existed a wonderfully
massive e-zine called The Paper Snarl. It was created toward
the end of the last century by Paul Barnett (Commissioning Editor of
the Paper Tiger imprint of Collins & Brown Ltd) as a  free
fanzine-by-subscription, geared toward the interests of the readers
of the imprint's catalogue of fantasy art books. At as many as twenty-five
thousand words (sometimes even more) per month, it was nearly thick
enough to choke the PCs and Macs that attempted to download it; but
once onscreen The Paper Snarl was a delight to read. It was a
whimsical array of news and reportage (indeed, the frequently mentioned
Snarl reporter's kit of hipflask, rumpled trench coat, slanted
fedora and pad with pencil -- listed in order of importance -- created
the picture of Barnett's transient "staff" as a gang of sottish Columbos
and Kolchaks), columns, caustic editorials, letters to the editor ("You
Snarl!") and "The Famous Paper Snarl Review Section". And, each
month, artists and writers of various levels of renown would slip into
the trench coat, pick up the pad with pencil, and pitch in with guest
pieces. One month, award-winning artist Bob Eggleton might be mentioned
in a convention report; the following month he'd be reporting on a convention
himself. Acclaimed sf writer and critic John Clute wrote the RIP piece
on Poul Anderson, among other pieces. In one edition, Barnett inserted
a list of the reckoned IQs of recent US presidents. There were extracts
from forthcoming Paper Tiger books, and sometimes the offer of a free
download of a complete text. And so on. In short order, The Paper
Snarl became a monthly cyber-visitor welcomed by fantasy and sf
artists, writers and their patrons. It was an endeavour unlike any that
had come and gone before.
The centerpiece of TPS was always the Paper Snarl Interview.
Each month, editor Barnett would chat with one or often two prominent
personalities connected with the fantasy art community and, most likely,
with Paper Tiger. One month, it might be an enchantress such as Anne
Sudworth. The next, a legend the likes of Frank Kelly Freas. Or, maybe,
a hot property such as Fangorn. Each conversation was lively and each
reflected the personality of the interviewee. And each was a treat to
read.
But sadly, for reasons known only to Barnett and those in the executive
offices of Paper Tiger, The Paper Snarl went on hiatus sometime
during 2001 and there are no imminent signs of its return. The website
that housed it on the net was, essentially, deactivated around the same
time, and it floats as a derelict through cyberspace today. (Occasionally,
a hopeful rumour of impending reactivation will surface, but thus far
none has proven to be true.) What we have left is access to various
Snarl pieces through Google and other search engines. There is
also a site housing over thirty Paper Tiger-affiliated artist interviews
with artwork samples on a web page called The Paper Tiger Fantasy Art
Gallery. The interviews are reprinted from The Paper Snarl.
And that leads me to the subject of this review.
For, you see, Paper Tiger has placed twenty-five of Barnett's Paper
Snarl artist interviews in a glossy, 144-page soft cover accompanied
by brilliant, high-resolution photographs of selected works by each
of the subject artists, and called it -- you guessed it -- Paper
Tiger Fantasy Art Gallery. What one finds between the covers is
sheer enjoyment, because the interviews were so entertaining to read
in the first place. The artwork, though only somewhat representative
of each creator, is still a feast for the eye. And on this basis alone
the issue is worthy of the $21.95 you will have to shell out to a US
bookseller to own it. (That is, if you don't pick it up from some discounter
on the net for less.)
However, I do have a few minor issues ...
First, there is the title. I expect to see wall-to-wall artwork in
a "fantasy art gallery". Granted, there is artwork on each page of this
book, but the majority of the space has been allotted to the interview
text. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that the
title doesn't truly reflect the focus or contents of what's to be found
inside. Maybe if it had been called something like "Interviews Within
the Fantasy Art Gallery" it would have conveyed more effectively the
nature of the book. Further, Barnett evidently wasn't aware when he
wrote the introduction that so much artwork would be included, since
he makes only minor mention of it in the form of a gracious thankyou
to the artists for their permission to reproduce it. It's a matter of
"Welcome, then, to my conversations ..." and off we go. I got the impression
that the editor was as surprised as I was when he saw the title of his
book.
Then, there is the layout of the cover itself. I admit it's a difficult
task creating a cover for a compilation such as this without making
it look as though it's been aimed towards the seconds pile at a chain
store, but that's just what this one looks like. The cheesy banner running
diagonally across the centre of the book tells me, rightly or wrongly,
that I won't have long to wait before I'll be able to pick it out of
some book bin near the store's cash register and make off with it for
under five dollars.
And, fellows and gals of the editorial office, you should probably
have identified the title and artist of each of the pieces you used
on the front and back covers somewhere other than within the interviews
with the artists themselves. I might have suggested the copyright page
as an appropriate location. Although I was familiar with seven of the
eight works of art you chose for the front and back covers (along with
the artists), most of your readership will be forced to comb through
the book to find identifications. That might prove a bit frustrating
to them, as the "Where's Waldo" craze in America seems to have just
about run its course.
I wasn't upset that an occasional work or period of art mentioned in
an interview didn't show up anywhere in the gallery. I did find it confusing,
however, when the interview with Eggleton, done in 1999, referred to
his The Book of Sea Monsters and Greetings from Earth,
while the artwork supporting the interview was actually done one to
two years later. Couldn't this piece (although to be fair its date,
July 1999, is given at the head of the interview) have been updated
a bit to include the work illustrated?
Nevertheless, you should buy this book for the Judith Clute section
(Barnett draws a wonderful rant from her about the restrictions of being
tagged with a "style"). Buy this book to get into the mind of a successful
cover artist like Chris Moore. Buy this book to discover the vividly
colourful realism of the art of Fred Gambino. Buy this book for the
lump in your throat you will get when the late Ron Walotsky tells you
about his future plans. Buy this book, period. The minor flaws I've
pointed out don't detract from the delights to be found within.
Paul Barnett is a master interviewer because he makes it look easy.
His conversations with award-winning contemporary artists turn us all
into eavesdroppers, as we glean personal tidbits and philosophical insight
from each artist's response. It is the discussion within the gallery,
not the gallery itself, which is of value to the reader here, hipflasks
and rumpled trench coats hovering in the background, as always.
Review by
Randy M Dannenfelser
Nick Gifford's alternative
review of Paper Tiger Fantasy Art Gallery is available
elsewhere on this site.
Elsewhere in infinity plus:
Elsewhere on the web:
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