The British are coming (again)

For British comics week, we'll be looking at a pair of creators from a different tradition each day. Today: James Hunt on Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

For aspiring writers and artists in Britain, the idea that they could get their hands on comicdom's biggest and most thoroughly American icons might seem implausible – and yet, over the last decade, writer Kieron Gillen and artist Jamie McKelvie have managed to do just that, forging a creative partnership that resulted in mainstream comic book success beyond Britain's borders.

It's not the first time Brits have conquered US comics, of course. In the late 1980s, the American mainstream saw a raft of UK-based writers and artists making their mark in an industry which had, until then, been almost exclusively the preserve of domestic talent. Within a few years, the creators of the so-called British Invasion would produce some of the medium's definitive works – the likes of Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' Watchmen, and Neil Gaiman's Sandman.

Although the UK's own comic book tradition is well-regarded, the larger and more lucrative US market would be foolish to avoid. The majority of British writers and artists follow the path laid down by the creators of the 1980s, honing their craft on Britain's long-running sci-fi anthology 2000 AD before moving to more profitable assignments at Marvel and DC.

But in recent years, certain British creators have proven that it's possible to conquer the US scene without needing to use domestic publications as a stepping stone.

Specifically, Kieron and McKelvie followed an atypical route to mainstream success, one that's arguably more accessible than the heavily structured and compartmented entry point represented by 2000AD. Gillen, a games journalist of some notoriety, and McKelvie, whose first published work as an artist was written by Buffy alumnus Amber Benson, grabbed the attention of the US comics industry with their six-issue creator-owned series Phonogram, which was published through Image in 2006.

Part-music journalism, part-occult fantasy – or, if you prefer, High Fidelity meets HellblazerPhonogram Vol. 1 (retroactively subtitled Rue Britannia) was championed by Image's current Executive Director and noted Anglophile, Eric Stephenson, who had previously collaborated with McKelvie on the graphic novel Long Hot Summer after the pair met at SDCC. Phonogram was a critical hit, and although sales on the series were modest, its specialised subject matter earned the pair a dedicated cult following.

Following the conclusion of Phonogram Vol. 1, McKelvie moved ahead with his own four-issue fantasy miniseries, Suburban Glamour, which he both wrote and drew. Meanwhile, Gillen's gaming credentials saw him drafted to write comics based on properties like Warhammer and Starcraft, even as he was also hard at work co-founding the PC gaming website Rock Paper Shotgun. In 2008, a personal recommendation from Warren Ellis helped earn Gillen his first work at Marvel: a low-key spin-off of an alternate universe series entitled Newuniversal: 1959.

By the end of 2008, Gillen and McKelvie had reunited to work on a second volume of Phonogram, subtitled The Singles Club. Published in full colour for the first time, the series comprised seven one-shot issues which explored the relationship between music and the individual. A technical and philosophical tour de force, Gillen and McKelvie's collaboration was the embodiment of comic book magic: a creative partnership in perfect synchronicity, an opus unique to the form.

But as with any medium, quality is no guarantee of success. The second volume of Phonogram sold as well as the first – but not substantially better. The extra cost of colour printing, combined with the back-end payment deal common on creator-owned comics forced McKelvie to seek work elsewhere – with a more time-consuming, labour-intensive task to complete, it is artists who typically bear the brunt of any financial shortfalls on creator-owned comics. Conceived as a monthly, Phonogram Vol. 2's irregular schedule saw it released across 14 months. In February 2010, the release of the final issue was accompanied by a mock wake, held in a Euston pub and attended by the creators and fans, wherein the series was officially laid to rest. A victim of its own financial unviability.

By that same year, however, Gillen's fledgling relationship with Marvel had been honed into something more substantial. In 2009, he had been unexpectedly propelled into the limelight, writing Thor after J. Michael Straczynski (creator of Babylon 5) had abruptly departed mid-storyline. Things went well, and by the end of 2010, Gillen had retired from games journalism and was co-writing Marvel's flagship X-Men title, Uncanny X-Men, with indie comics wunderkind Matt Fraction. By March 2011, he would have sole authorship over the title.

During this period, McKelvie had also settled at Marvel, drawing short stories, backup strips and fill-in issues featuring the likes of the X-Men, Iron Man and Spider-Man. In June 2010, he re-teamed with Gillen on the pair's first Marvel collaboration, Siege: Loki, starring Thor's treacherous brother, and again in 2011 on two issues of Gillen's X-Men spin-off, Generation Hope.

By 2012, Uncanny X-Men as written by Gillen frequently placed as Marvel's best-selling title. McKelvie, meanwhile, was assigned as the artist on the hotly-anticipated X-Men: Season One, part of Marvel's first line of original graphic novels in almost 25 years. In February 2012, the pair announced that they would return to Image and the hit that launched their careers with Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl – and although it would be delayed into late 2013, the pair remain collaborators on the forthcoming Young Avengers, a Marvel series due in January 2013 which features teenaged superheroes learning the ropes as a team of Avengers.

While not quite rags-to-riches, Gillen and McKelvie's rise has been a steady and formidable one – a virtual textbook example of how to break into the US comics industry. Their ongoing creative partnership is also typical of a comicbook phenomenon which sees pairs of writers and artists – particularly British ones - maintaining an association across multiple titles and companies.

Previous all-British teams include Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely (who worked together on Flex Mentallo in 1996, New X-Men in 2001, We3 in 2004 and All Star Superman from 2005-2008), Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean (Violent Cases in 1987, Signal to Noise in 1992, Mr. Punch in 1994, The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish in 1998 and Wolves in the Walls in 2003) and Andy Diggle and Jock (2000 AD from 2000-2003, The Losers from 2003-2006 and Green Arrow: Year One in 2007).

Such creator-pairing is not unique to British collaborations, but British-borne relationships have typically proven more enduring than those formed inside the US. Proximity certainly plays its part, but perhaps the important part of the equation is the dynamic of the UK's comics scene. Perhaps when partnerships form before commercial success they're more likely endure beyond it. Or maybe it's just that in the UK, the partnerships are formed in pubs and hotel bars, rather than offices.

Still, Gillen and McKelvie, who partnered on the nascent Phonogram after meeting at a comic convention in Bristol, are living proof of the tradition however it's incited, and their rise from indie obscurity to mainstream dominance can stand as an inspiration to any British comic creators who have a pen, a dream, and the audacity to think that a kid from the suburbs of nowheresville, UK, might one day write and draw the likes of Iron Man, Spider-Man and Wolverine.

A promo for Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl. Image: Jamie McKelvie

James Hunt is a freelance journalist, and writes about comics at Alternate Cover.

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Ukrainian cooking shakes off the old Soviet fur coat

Forget the stereotype: Ukranian cuisine is about more than just borscht, as a new cookbook shows.

“Potatoes,” Olia Hercules fumes. “Everyone thinks I’ve written a book about bloody potatoes.” It must be said that there is the odd spud in Mamushka (Mitchell Beazley), her surprisingly colourful celebration of Ukrainian food (after all, how could you have an eastern European cookbook without borscht?), but potatoes are far from the only thing to thrive in the country’s famously fertile black soil.

In fact, Hercules – young, slightly built and rarely seen without a slick of dangerously red lipstick – bears as much resemblance to the archetypal babushka as her homeland does to the bleak, grey landscape of the popular imagination. Born close to the Crimean border, she spent many holidays at the beach by the Sea of Azov, “the shallowest in the world”, where the kids ran around smothered in kefir to soothe their sunburn and everyone feasted on mountains of home-made apricot doughnuts.

Southern Ukraine, it turns out, is a land of plenty – during its long, hot summers anyway. There are prickly cucumbers picked straight from the vine, “aromatic and warm from the blistering sun”, sour cherries that “just drop off trees in the streets in June”, and the best watermelons you’ve ever tasted: “huge, firm, stripy beasts”, Hercules says.

What isn’t eaten straight from the garden will be preserved carefully to see the household through the region’s mild winters. The conserves include some rather intriguing fizzy fermented tomatoes that promise to blow your mind and your taste buds. In Ukraine, she says, “Tomatoes are king!” Fresh curd cheese and barbecued catfish, warm, flaky pumpkin bread and saffron-spiked rice all sound a blessedly long way from that old Soviet favourite, herring in a fur coat.

Nevertheless, this sunny childhood was still spent under the rule of Moscow, with its power cuts and queues, and Hercules retains to this day a nostalgic fondness for margarine, a legacy, she says, of the USSR’s “perpetual credit crunch”. A family favourite of slow-cooked goose brings back memories of bribes her surgeon uncle received to grease the creaking wheels of an ageing Soviet health system, while the home-made silky egg noodles underneath were a necessity, at a time when the local shop stocked only the occasional packet of grey macaroni.

The Soviet Union can also take some credit for the diversity of Hercules’s family, and hence the food on which she grew up. When you have a Siberian grandmother, aunts from Armenia, an Uzbek father and relatives in Azerbaijan, impossibly exotic asides such as “My grandmother picked this recipe up when she lived in Tashkent” just come naturally.

In answer to my geographic puzzling, Hercules snorts that “Ukraine basically is eastern Europe”, but the country’s culinary horizons stretch far further – there’s even a significant Korean population in the south, which, in the absence of Chinese cabbage for kimchi, has contributed a pickled carrot dish to her book.

For most of us, thanks to long memories for those tales of endless queues and dismal canteen cooking, the curtain is yet to rise on the culinary delights of the former Soviet bloc. The television producer Pat Llewellyn, the woman who discovered Jamie Oliver and was
food judge for the 2015 André Simon Awards, described it as “a much-underrated food culture” when praising the shortlisted Mamushka (the author’s childhood nickname for her mother, which has come to signify, she says, “strong women in general”).

It’s anyone’s guess whether that means we’ll get to see Hercules, resplendent in one of her signature knotted headscarves, showing off her Moldovan giant cheese twists on screen any time soon. But we’ll be seeing a lot more of her beloved “mamushka cooking”, one way or another. Just don’t mention the P word.

Next week: Richard Mabey on nature

Felicity Cloake write the food column for the New Statesman. She also writes for the Guardian and is the author of  Perfect: 68 Essential Recipes for Every Cook's Repertoire (Fig Tree, 2011) and Perfect Host: 162 easy recipes for feeding people & having fun (Fig Tree, 2013). She is on Twitter as @FelicityCloake.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle