Comic readers typically don’t think about the look and format of the letters in their books unless there’s a glaring issue. Partially, this is by design, as a skilled typographer’s work should go unnoticed, not impeding the reading experience in the slightest.
Innovative book printer and designer, Jon Ryder even went as far as to say, “The typographer’s art should be invisible. The hand which seeks perfection, but which is never actually seen.” It is from this quote that this field became colloquially known as “the invisible art”.
Comics lettering, as a kind of branch of typography, is held to a similar standard. Balloons should be placed with care, fonts selected with the reader’s experience in mind, and sound effects made to flow with the art in a beautiful marriage. Many comic creators will give newcomers advice to not skimp on the lettering, for bad lettering can sink the whole ship.
CBR explained this well in an article from 2000:
“Lettering is to comic books what back-up singers are to music: often over-looked, but if done wrong, it’s noticed in a bad way.”
Most publishers recognize that lettering does have artistic merits. In that same article, President of Comicraft and former Marvel editor Richar Starkings professes when designing a comic, the lettering must be a part of a unified whole and is essential to the book’s identity.
But while there is respect for it, common practices seem to suggest that lettering is something that serves the story instead of being a piece of it. This can be seen (or not seen) when the letterer’s name is relegated to the inside matter of a comic. Sites like GoodReads and Google Books don’t list them, and even Marvel’s official website doesn’t include their names. Often, it’s easier to find this info on Fandom.com or Comics Vine.
Like the craft itself, the letterer is placed into this weird paradox of seen, but unseen.
Because of this, its importance to comics storytelling has gone unnoticed, and that’s a shame. In the following examples, I hope to show that words and balloons are absolutely a part of the storytelling, just as much as those who get coveted cover credits.
Angela: Asgard’s Assassin & Angela: Queen of Hel (Letters by VC’s Clayton Cowles)
Angela has become one of my favorite Marvel characters lately because of the interesting place she holds in Thor’s universe. She’s a child of Odin but was kidnapped in the cradle due to her father’s treatment of the Angels of Hevin. In a grief-fueled rage, Angela’s mother, Freya, detaches Hevin from the world tree, banishing the Angels outside of the Bifrost, the bridge that connects the realms.
In Marvel’s Angela: Asgard’s Assassin and Queen of Hel series, Clayton Cowles’ lettering adds another element to this backstory that is incredibly subtle. Check out the following page from issue #6 of this collection.
Angela’s dialogue matches those around her, but not her brother, Thor’s. The font Cowles uses for the God of Thunder contains more flourishes and curves, while hers is clean and straight. Though the siblings speak in a similarly theatrical manner, they’re different.
But it isn’t only Thor where the reader sees this. This font change happens also with the two’s sister and Queen of Hel, Hela…
…and with Tyr and Baldur (also their siblings because Marvel’s Asgardians have way too much family drama).
Why is this so? The answer’s fairly simple, but not something most readers would likely think about.
Angela was raised an Angel and later finds out that she is a lost child of Asgard. Asgard’s Assassin shows how this revelation causes her internal torment; she grew up being taught to hate Asgard but is now a part of it. She no longer feels like an Angel, but neither does she fit in her birth world.
The plot follows her trying to reconcile this through a complex plan where she will become beholden to neither Asgard nor Hevin, she will simply be Angela.
These different font choices are another way of displaying this conflict. Though she speaks the same language as Thor and Odin, she doesn’t have the same accent as them. Since how one pronounces words is largely influenced by who raises them, it only makes sense that Angela has a different manner than her lost family.
Through something as simple as font, the lettering has given another element and a deeper look into the story being told. Without it, this detail would have been missed and the backstory of Angela less rich.
Barbarella: Woman Untamed, Letters by Carlos M. Mangual
Dynamite’s second arc of Barbella also features a passage where the lettering displays an essential part of any story: foreshadowing.
In this series, Barbarella journeys across the galaxy to rally the universe’s people to the cause of the Brotherhood of Tortuga, a rebel group located on Earth. While her mission had been successful thus far, the last one ended with her ship being maimed beyond repair.
It is here that the reader is introduced to the two characters who are the focus of this section: the talking space-fox, Vix, and Taln, Barbarella’s ship’s AI who acts as a companion and protector, and can manifest outside of the ship through a jewel on Vix’s collar.
In the first issue, it’s shown that Vix speaks like most individuals in the galaxy; nothing fancy distinguishes her speech besides broken sentences and referring to herself in the third person.
Taln, on the other hand, has a blue stroke (fancy letterer speak for the outline) around his balloons. Since he is an AI, Carlos Mangual was likely trying to convey that this character speaks with an electronic, computer-like tone.
It’s a subtle thing and because of that, it makes a later twist in the story even better because the reader could have seen it coming.
After Barbarella and crew have cracked one mystery of their current mission, they find themselves pursued by a group of gun-toting thugs who want to keep things hidden.
All looks hopeless, they have Vix in their clutches, Taln’s form is fading and Barbarella can’t get to her ship. In a moment of bravery, Taln activates the ship and crashes it into their attackers, sacrificing himself in the process. Having developed feelings for the AI, Barbarella is heartbroken.
However, luck is on her side as Taln returns in the next issue and how the lettering hints at this reveal is beautiful.
Barbarella learns that Vix can link to networks via her collar and when she does, her balloons and style of dialogue change.
Because of how this sequence is framed, the reader is led to believe that this was a momentary change due to Vix connecting with machines. This style of balloon also reappears many pages after Taln’s demise, so most readers likely forgot they were unique to him.
It makes it incredibly satisfying when Barbarella’s digital friend returns in the final pages. The reader realizes that Taln was speaking through Vix and that the balloons foreshadowed this issue’s conclusion. Once again, it’s a clever bit of storytelling that could only be told through lettering.
Grass Kings, Letters by Jim Campbell
My final example, Matt Kindt, Tyler Jenkins, and Jim Campbell’s Grass Kings, shows how lettering can also visually display the internal experiences of a character. Unlike the previous examples which used visuals to display differences in sound for storytelling, this one gets more abstract and focuses more on silence, at least a kind of silence.
Grass Kings’ main protagonist, Robert, is an alcoholic who is tormented by his past. He fell asleep while watching his daughter, only to wake up and find her missing. This tragedy ends his marriage and throws his life into chasing rumors of uncaught serial killers and any explanation behind his child’s disappearance.
This combination of excessive drinking and trauma has fragmented and muddled his memories. The book displays this experience through abstract pages without gutters and swathes of color, but what’s most interesting about these is the lettering.
His wife’s words are lost, just blank balloons with his own monologue pasted on top. He can’t remember what she said, but he remembers how he felt and what she looked like.
Other times, when he recollects past events, he only remembers them in headlines and news blurbs. The lettering thrusts the reader into Robert’s head and allows them to experience his messed-up brain firsthand.
What makes this even better is when these hazy moments are contrasted with Robert’s memories that he can recall clearly like the moments before he lost his daughter. In that flashback, he can recall exact words and the events flow sequentially. Through these creative plays with balloons and style, some great nuances can be inferenced about Robert giving his character more depth and readers a richer experience.
Conclusion
Lettering is storytelling.
Through acutely crafted balloons and meticulously selected fonts, the lettering can show additional details and plot elements beyond simple sounds and mood. It should be apparent now that it isn’t something to serve the visions of writers and artists, but another piece in the puzzle.
This is what separates it from crafts like calligraphy and typography. It is not merely an aesthetic art, but a narrative one like every other part of a comic. Lazy lettering doesn’t just fail the look of the book, it fails the story.
Lettering is worthy of the same kind of respect as those we normally think of as the creators of comic book tales. So put your damn letterers on the covers of your book!
Like what you’ve just read? Help us keep the Yeti Cave warm! Comic Book Yeti has a Patreon page for anyone who wants to contribute: https://www.patreon.com/comicbookyeti
