Bone
Jeff Smith
Reviewed by David Groenewegen

Of all the black-and-white self-publishing efforts of the ’90s none made quite such a splash with fans as Bone. And with good reason. It's a beautifully drawn, deftly plotted and well-written book of considerable charm and style. Unfortunately, however, it seems to me that it will not be able to convincingly fulfil the goals its creator, Jeff Smith, has set for it.

Essentially the problem is this: Smith has designed a set of appealing characters, and placed them in an interesting story with the intention of doing more than just being entertaining. While the inspirations for his characters are transparent, he has managed to transcend his influences to a certain degree that has allowed him to create something quite vivid and original. But his own characters are conspiring against him to undermine Bone as a thematic whole.

Some introductions to these characters are in order. The pivotal characters in Bone have always been the three Bone cousins, Smiley, Phoney and Fone Bone, and the human girl whose life they intersect with, Thorn Harvestar. While Thorn may be human, the Bones are not. They're, well, Bones. They're not like anything else.

Phoney and Fone Bone are short, round headed, big nosed, all white creatures. Add some big ears and they're not unlike bleached Smurfs with no hats (or pants). They have floating eyebrows, which give Smith a useful device for portraying their emotional state. At first glance they seem almost identical, with Phoney's black shirt being the only identifying feature either of them possess, but their round heads and noses are skillfully differentiated. Hard as it is to believe of a character who's made up of circles, Phoney has a sharper face than Fone Bone, an almost beak like structure below his nose. These differences are nicely shown in #36 when Phoney discards his shirt for the first time, and promptly runs into the perennially shirtless Fone Bone.

Their cousin Smiley is cast from a slightly different mold. While he is also all white and has a similar set of elastic limbs with no toes and four fingers on each hand, he is taller, with a smaller head and protruding nose. Like all the Bones, he is drawn in the clean, simple style so beloved of animators (the industry in which Smith worked before publishing Bone). All the Bones are gracefully drawn using a carefully varied line, which gives depth to what might otherwise be very two-dimensional figures.

Each Bone is given a distinct personality from the very beginning. Fone Bone (who, like Charlie Brown, is always referred to by both names) is clearly the most sensible of the threesome. Determined to avoid trouble, yet unwilling to be derelict in his perceived duties, he is kind, likeable and determined. Smiley is affable and generally unflappable, seemingly not terribly clever but possessed of a great deal of cunning when it suits him. Unlike Fone Bone, who tends to be motivated by doing the right thing, doing whatever seems the most amusing motivates Smiley. Phoney is a greedy, self-obsessed troublemaker ("God, I pity me" he exclaims at one point), who's motivated almost entirely by self-interest and greed. While Fone Bone is always worrying about the consequences, Phoney never does. As a result of Phoney's ill-fated run for mayor, all three are in exile from their home in Boneville.

As the never-changing inside cover blurb puts it, "One by one they find their way into a deep forested valley filled with wonderful and terrifying creatures": a pleasingly eccentric mixture of humans, giant talking carnivores called rat creatures and the usual curious mix of talking and non-talking animals that inhabit all anthropomorphic books. Possums talk, but cows don't. Go figure.

Once in the valley they become involved with a local girl called Thorn, her grandmother, and the inhabitants of a nearby village. Essentially the plot then follows the classic fantasy storyline as was exemplified in Lord of the Rings: escalating trouble, revelations about mysterious lineages, brushes with death and pressure to confront the problems that had been forgotten or dismissed. Thorn turns out to be the missing princess of a lost kingdom, as well as being connected to a mystical force known as The Dreaming. As this sort of plot goes, Bone is better than average, strengthened as it is by careful and well thought out storytelling. Smith is not afraid to pace individual issues so that they will work within the larger story - some issues seemed quite slow when read on a bimonthlyish basis, but this is an attempt on the author's part to lull the reader into a false sense of normality, thus making the next action sequence more unexpected and intense. It's something of a lost art in modern comic books - few creators have the courage to let the bigger picture so influence the individual issues, but Smith does it well, as is shown clearly when the issues are read in rapid sequence.

Additionally, he uses a clever structure to lure in the reader. The earlier issues are far more light-hearted, underplaying the threat from the rat creatures (two of whom spend much of their time arguing over the relative merits of quiche) - they're too stupid to be really frightening. But later issues turn this around, as the very real danger they pose becomes more explicit. This structure is also in the service of Smith's larger goals, his intention to reflect the change from childhood to maturity.

This is not without its problems, however. Once the rat creatures start looting and pillaging, the earlier light heartedness cannot entirely be recaptured. When Smith tries it, within the "Rock Jaw" storyline, he is less successful than in the earlier chapters. This is emphasized by the back up story by Sniegoski and Sakai in the later issues, which uses two rat creatures in the same jovial way they were used earlier, but which fails be cause they are no longer completely believable in that role.

The Bones, of course, turn out to be key players in the unfolding events, despite their initial desire to do no more than find their way back to Boneville. If you're the sort of person who finds the lack of comment on Cerebus' appearance in his book annoying, you shouldn't read Bone, because the humans may recognize the Bones as strangers, but they don't seem worried by the fact that they aren't human strangers. But while the Bones may not look like anyone else in the valley, their ancestors can be quite clearly seen by the seasoned comics reader.

Jeff Smith has been admirably open about the inspirations for his work, and generous in trying to point others towards those inspirations. It is these inspirations that provide an ancestry for his own key protagonists. The most striking and commented upon similarity is the work of Walt Kelly, specifically Pogo, which Smith pays tribute to with the introduction of a possum family in the second issue.

Fone Bone in particular is a close relative of Pogo Possum, while Smiley owes a lot (including his ever-present cigar) to Albert. The basic physic al appearances of these two are very similar to Kelly's creations, as are their personalities. Fone Bone, like Pogo, is a friendly reliable little chap, always willing to help, and doggedly loyal to his friends. Despite his best instincts he is often drawn into trouble of some sort, usually by the self-same friends. Smiley, like Albert, is impetuous and good-natured, but with a wicked streak - he's not averse to the sort of mischief t hat Fone Bone tries to avoid. These two characters are clearly the result of a long fascination with Pogo, but Smith has never tried to hide this - at one point he even produced a T-shirt of the four characters meeting for Pogofest, the results proudly shown in a letter column.

But Pogo contains no direct equivalent in either design or personality to the avaricious Phoney Bone. Certainly there are characters that share parts of his persona - Porkypine's gruffness, Howland Owl's fondness for idiot schemes, P.T. Bridgeport's relentless self-promotion. But it's difficult to claim that any Pogo character matches Phoney. If anything, he seems to be a relative of Scrooge McDuck's. The greed, the megalomania, the hidden heart of gold, it's all there. Bones even have the same flat, archless feet that the Ducks have.

The fact that Phoney seems more inspired by Barks than Kelly reminds the reader that Smiley may have Albert's cigar, but he also has Goofy's waistcoat and tiny hat. Goofy too was a tall, amiable second banana with a propensity for getting himself in trouble. You can imagine that he would have enjoyed dressing up like a cow as much as Smiley does in the Great Cow Race storyline. And like all good Disney characters, the Bones are not afraid to walk around without any pants on.

This blending of characters from more than one source is the difference between knock-offs and inspiration. Other comics characters, particularly those from comic strips are referenced. The occasional swirl of lines above the brow to denote exasperation is very Charles Schulz. Gran'ma Ben, particularly in her early appearances, is a cross between Popeye and Mammy Yokum. Smith himself describes his mountain ranges as being drawn in the style of Herriman.

The Peanuts influence is particularly interesting, because it encompasses more than the way the characters are drawn. In his final strip, Schulz mentions only four of his many characters by name: Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus and Snoopy, and I think most people would agree that they were his key characters. Each one has a parallel in the world of Bone: wild and unpredictable Snoopy is Smiley, mostly sensible and introspective Linus is Fone Bone, crabby and pushy Lucy is Phoney (in fact, Phoney's betting booth before the Cow Race is a dead ringer for Lucy's psychiatric help one), and Charlie Brown is Thorn. The last comparison doesn't quite work, but more on that later.

Please note that I am not suggesting that Smith ripped off Charles Schulz, cunningly dressed the characters up as Pogo imitations to throw off the scent, and went on his merry way. What I am suggesting is that both Smith and Schulz tapped into some character archetypes, which gave their work its appeal and universality. These archetypes are not restricted to comics. A couple of examples: the Bones can be compared to the Marx brothers. Phoney is Groucho, Smiley is Chico and Fone Bone is Harpo. Which makes T horn Zeppo. Or you can use Seinfeld : Smiley = Kramer, Phoney = George, Fone Bone = Jerry and Thorn = Elaine.

These aren't always exact matches, which is one of the strengths of the book. For all the similarities to other familiar characters, it's hard to claim that any of Smith's characters are direct clones of a predecessor. They are unique, even though Smith has drawn his characters from a range of inspirations, and has used some very common archetypes to bring them t o life. In doing so he has designed characters for the long haul that a comic strip (or a television show) requires. Easily recognizable, capable of the occasional surprise, but essentially fixed in stone. The Marx brothers traded on their personas for fifty years, Schulz got the same sort o f mileage out of his creations (although some took longer to arrive at their fixed point than others). And given that Smith originally intended for Bone to be a comic strip, rather than a comic book, they were well chosen. But by creating a comic book, and a comic book with a fixed ending in mind, Smith's work has actually been counter productive.

The central theme of Bone is the inevitability of change and how dealing with that change creates us as adults. Thorn expresses the despair of a child, indeed of many of us when confronted with change when she asks in # 25: "What's happening Fone Bone? Why is everything changing? Why can't we go back to the way it was before?". She doesn't get the answer to her question until the next issue, when the Red Dragon tells her "You can not make the difficulties of the world go away".

Smith has said that Bone is about the passage into adulthood as much as it an adventure story. It's about the choices we make in life that change us into what we are. But the Bones have no real choices because they aren't going to become adults. They already are what they will always be. The re can be no growth for the Bones, because the nature of their characters will not allow it. Fone Bone was a plucky, cheerful, loyal and friendly character in #1. Thirty-six issues later he still is. He hasn't been changed at all by the war with the rat creatures, or his numerous brushes wit h death. He enters the story trying to protect his cousin Phoney from the consequences of his own stupidity, and he's still doing it. The only difference is he's trying to protect Thorn now as well. But collecting another troubled soul does not make Fone Bone a different person - it just shows the same qualities in a different way.

Smiley is afflicted in the same way. For instance, both he and Fone Bone are able to separate their experiences with rat creatures from the needs of the rat creature cub Bartleby, because that is what their characters demand. They're essentially kind-hearted, with no enemies except for those who choose to make enemies of them. So they protect and feed the cub, and try and take it back where it belongs. Neither has been affected by the events around him. Harpo and Chico would have done the same thing.

The only Bone who foreshadows any change is Phoney, but it's such a predictable change that it hardly seems worthwhile. In fact it's exactly in keeping with his archetype. It doesn't take a genius to guess that at some point in the final part of the story, Phoney will be called upon to do something selfless, at some cost to himself. He may hesitate, or he may do it without thinking, but he will do it. It's as predictable (and probably as short-lived) as Uncle Scrooge giving up something he has coveted throughout a Barks story in order to protect his nephews. Phoney's "good heart" and genuine affection for his cousins have been foreshadowed ever since he refused to let his cousins' names be slandered along with his. In #3 6 it's revealed that he took care of his cousins when they were young. It 's not real growth or change, it's just the way that particular character HAS to work. Groucho, George, even Lucy have their moments where they show a heart of gold.

Smith therefore has the problem of having three of his pivotal central characters undercutting the point of his story. The Bones defy change. They may have to face the difficulties of the world, but they do so with no clear consequences to themselves. They just go on doing the same things they would always do, doing in the same way. They save Bartleby. They scam the villagers. They protect small animals from harm. They follow the same impulses that brought them to the valley in the first place. Perhaps later events will change them, but it seems unlikely. Will Fone Bone become angry and bitter? Will Smiley become cautious and depressive? Would it be believable if they did?

For the story to work at all, much is riding on the central human character, Thorn. Ironically, when Jeff Smith published a forerunner to this work in his college newspaper it was called Thorn, but he changed this title because he felt the Bones were more important. While they're certainly appealing characters, none of them can be the central character, the motor of the story, because none of them have a real quest. A good fantasy story of this nature needs a quest, because through the quest a character is able to change and grow. It is Thorn's journey that propels Bone.

In the earlier part of the story Thorn is so overwhelmingly nice she actually comes across as being vapid. Like Zeppo Marx, she's pretty but seemingly inessential. Like Charlie Brown she's unlucky in love, her passion for a honey merchant going largely unrequited. Even the art serves to emphasize this - the early Thorn is drawn in the style of the classic Disney heroine, pretty but undistinguished. She helps out around the farm, takes pity on the Bones, befriends small animals and so on. Whenever Gran'ma Ben tells her to do something, she obeys with only the mildest protests. While this makes her similar to Fone Bone, she is different in that, initially at least, she lacks his ability to pursue a course of action immediately, and to follow it through. She's a little wishy-washy.

As she starts to recognize her birthright, and the responsibilities inherent within this, her personality begins to change. She becomes less willing to take the advice or her elders. She tries to make her own decisions, and follow her own paths. She thinks about what she is told, rather tha n simply accepting what she hears as the truth. Tellingly, she becomes more willing to defy Gran'ma. She tries to live up to the faith placed in her by others. She is not always successful in these efforts, sometimes returning to her more wishy-washy ways. But she recognizes that she must confront hard decisions and that she can't expect others to do everything f or her anymore. She's avoided Charlie Brown's fate, and is growing up.

This process is reflected in the art. In the later issues Thorn's face seems sharper, it lacks the puppy fat roundness she begins with. Her eyes, once open and expressive, are now often covered or shadowed by her hair. The weight of decision making is shown in her appearance, which gives her more personality than she once had.

The key to the effective portrayal of this process of maturation of her character lies in the gradualness of it. Smith avoids the trap that so often afflicts this type of change, where a single moment creates an entirely new personality for a character. Thorn's progress is less direct, more hesitant, as it should be. In #33 she is able to take control of a group of villagers, using her newfound sense of authority to overcome the objections of men far older and larger than herself. Yet two issues later she is shown playfully spitting cherry pits at Fone Bone, while sitting cross legged inside a hollow tree, her too large crown sitting comically on her head. We are reminded that while she is becoming a woman, she is in many ways still a child.

But she is changing, she is taking the steps that help define maturity in a psychological as well as a physical sense. She is trying to forge her own path, taking counsel when needed but making her own decisions. As she is told by one of the mysterious "Stick-eaters" - "You alone may walk your path".

And she's able to do the unexpected as a result. Charlie Brown would always try to kick the football, and always fail. The dynamics of Peanuts relied on it (Schulz's sentimental granting of one symbolic baseball victory notwithstanding). Thorn is able to try different things as she juggles her own impulses with the need of her "subjects" for leadership, and thus she moves beyond being just another pretty Disney heroine.

Is this one exception sufficient to counter the dominant mood of fixed archetypes? Smith has often said that Bone was heavily influenced by Lord of the Rings, and this is clear by the way the story's structure has unfolded. In Tolkien's story the three hobbits who accompany Frodo on his quest do so, like the Bones, out of friendship and loyalty. It is not their quest to the return the ring. But despite dangers far greater than they ever imagined, they stay the course. And they are changed by what they see, if only because all three are forced to leave their adolescence behind. Merry and Pippin are notably juvenile and easily frightened at first, yet they grow into determined and responsible characters. Sam is able to become more than an assistant and a son - he is able to stand on his own at the last, guiding Frodo as much as he follows him. These changes will not affect the Bones, because the Bones are already all they can be. Their characters, designed to last a lifetime of comic strips, can't believably change beyond the expected limitations of the archetype.

Thorn, however, can be changed in a way that is harder to predict. Will she become regal but domineering? Embittered by war and longing for the quiet life of the past? The gracious queen? Will she fail? While this last option seems unlikely, it is a mark of Smith's work that the option can even be considered. The Bones seem foolproof and thoroughly known - Thorn does not.

In Lord of the Rings Frodo, like his companions, is irrevocably changed by his experiences, but unlike them, not necessarily for the better. The burden of his quest has not only made his former life unlivable, but has removed the potential for contentment. He has to leave everything behind. While Thorn's fate remains to be seen, for Bone to have the depth that Smith wants it to have something truly unexpected will have to be done to her companions, the Bones themselves. But at this late stage in the story (Smith says there are only 15-20 issues to go) it seems hard to imagine that he can change them at all, because to do so would fatally undermine any credibility the story has. Thorn has been changed so carefully, so gradually, that a hasty alteration to the personality of other primary characters like the Bones will not ring true in the context of the larger work. Given the ambition with which Jeff Smith has approached his work, that's a damn shame.