Interview with cartoonist Adam Pasion on ‘Aftershock’ and ‘Sundogs’

For the past several years Adam Pasion has been living in Nagoya, which he calls “Japan's best kept secret.” An editor and illustrator for RAN magazine, he is also a co-owner and English teacher of SpeakEasy Language School. As the creator of his own comic diary series Sundogs, the San Jose native was profiled in The Japan Times earlier this year, and the strip has since been collected into three books, providing a daily document of Pasion’s life in Nippon with his growing family from 2008 through 2010.

His latest project is Aftershock: Artists Respond to Disaster in Japan, a global response to the combined disasters of this year’s Tohoku earthquake, tsunami and nuclear meltdown. Edited and complied by Pasion and representing over 35 contributors from five continents, including Jeffrey Brown, Carrie McNinch, and Ben Snakepit, the book shares their thoughts and feelings about a freshly devastated Japan in manga form. In this exclusive interview, Pasion reveals the inspiration for this unique project, his favorite Sundogs moments, and what’s next on his plate.

Tell us about your history with Japan. How did it cross your radar growing up?

My hometown had a pretty big and vibrant Japantown, and we would often go there and eat or go window shopping as a kid, but beyond that Japan was just a point on a map for me. In college I worked with a Japanese girl who tried to get me to go to some club for Japanese exchange students. I reluctantly went and was surprised by how much I enjoyed it—tons of delicious Japanese food and lots of cute girls. I started going regularly, and that is where I met my wife. I started taking a Japanese class, and through that class I got offered a position working in Japan for a summer. After spending a summer working here, I fell in love with the place. Several years later, my wife and I found out that we were going to be having a baby, and we decided to come have the baby close to my wife's family here in Nagoya. Four years, two kids and a couple belt sizes later, and we are still here.

How did Aftershock come together following the earthquake and tsunami of March 2011?

Like most people out there who have any sort of connection to Japan, I felt paralyzed by the whole thing. Here were all these terrible events unfolding just a few hundred miles up the coast and there was nothing I could do about it. I had a sort of “survivor’s guilt” by proxy. When the medical teams and disaster relief groups started to come in I felt even more uneasy, realizing that it was in fact possible to help, just impossible for me to help. Every place I looked told me “just donate money for now.” I felt like I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the doctors to do their job. All I could do was wait, and offer to help with the hospital bills.

Then one night my brain was racing as I was trying to go to sleep, and the idea occurred to me to find a way to help out within my own skill set, which is where the idea for this book came about. I jumped out of bed and immediately fired off about 10 e-mails to the cartoonists I knew personally, and the response was 100 percent positive. I contacted Top Shelf Productions after that on a whim and they were into the idea right away. I still felt like any moment it would vanish in smoke until out of the blue I started getting tons of requests to join the project and submissions from people I had never met. The word had gotten out and was spreading quickly, and at that point I knew we were on to something. When things with Top Shelf didn't pan out, the project already had way too much momentum to give up, which is why I decided to self-publish it. When the book was funding on Kickstarter, I actually had people thanking me for the chance to pledge money to the project. I still can't wrap my head around that.

What are your goals with releasing Aftershock?

This has been a major point of misunderstanding from a lot of people. The main goal of this project is not fundraising for a charity. That is certainly a big part of it, but the distinction is that even if it fails to make a lot of money, I think it is incredibly meaningful in its own right. From the beginning I have described this book as a kind of “open letter” to the nation of Japan from the international comics community. It is supposed to communicate how far-reaching the influence of Japan has been on cartoonists all over the world, and how we feel in a moment like this. I guess more than an open letter, it's a get well card. It is also a timepiece that encapsulates the popular sentiment of the world at one moment. I want all the contributors to look back on this book and remember exactly where we were and how we felt while we were still in the thick of it. I think we have succeeded in this goal. We have created a lasting piece of art that captures an important moment in time and the zeitgeist that goes along with it.

Some people have misunderstood the purpose of the project as a way to donate to the disaster. It certainly is [all proceeds from Aftershock will be donated to relief efforts in northeast Japan—Ed.], but if your main purpose is to make a donation, then there are much more direct ways to do it than to buy this book. I want the book to be successful in its aim to raise as much money as possible to help in the rebuilding process, but I also want people to actively become involved. Read the stories and see why we care so much. I want it to motivate people to join the process of rebuilding and I want it to help people feel like we are all in this thing together.

In your own contribution to Aftershock, you observe how quickly the Japanese people joined together to help each other. What are your thoughts on how the rest of the world has helped out in the wake of the disaster?

It was really beautiful to me to see countries offering support in both direct relief action and financial support. When I saw the Chinese aid workers getting off the plane, it really touched me. Countries which have been stymied for so long with historical enmity overcoming those things in a time of crisis is always a beautiful thing to see. Hell, even Kim Jong Il showed his softer side and donated money. Who saw that coming?! Of course things moved on, as things tend to do, and when Japan was out of the limelight the funds tapered away as well. The global attention span is shrinking all the time and I was surprised to see this disaster get as much time in the international press as it did. That is another reason I decided to start this project.

Ironically, when the disaster struck my magazine was hosting a benefit concert for the earthquake that had occurred in Christchurch, New Zealand, shortly before. I came home from that event all charged up, feeling great about the money we raised and the good energy of the event. It wasn't until I got home and saw my wife crying in front of the TV that I realized how bad the disaster here was. My publisher immediately called and said he was going to donate the money from our Christchurch event to this disaster in Japan. I felt really bad about that for two reasons: First of all, the need in Christchurch didn't go away simply because a bigger disaster occurred elsewhere. But second, and most importantly, I realized that as soon as the next disaster happens, Japan will be forgotten in the same way New Zealand was. So I was stuck with the challenge of keeping people aware of the disaster, and finding a way to keep money coming in over the next few years.

Now that Aftershock is complete, what’s your next project?

It hasn't congealed in my brain yet, but I definitely enjoyed the collaborative process of working on a compilation like Aftershock. Editing brought certain challenges that I was not used to, but I enjoyed it and found that I have a certain knack for it maybe. I also think that I want to get back into putting out issues. Books require a lot more commitment and are a little risky in terms of the time and effort they take, let alone money. Maybe some sort of monthly magazine which features cartoonists working here in Japan. All my stuff deals with the idea of a place seen through the eyes of an outsider; I love that sort of thing, so I would love to do something that profiles other foreign comic artists here.

Now that I have these leftover ISBNs and am actually a registered publisher, I want to take advantage of that. In putting this project together I realized there are a lot more people like me here in Japan than I ever would have guessed. I think a good publisher is almost more important to the industry than a good creator. There are way too many undiscovered people out there and not enough people willing to take a chance on them.

Where did the name Sundogs come from?

I was reading some book about the Arctic, and I came upon this bizarre weather phenomenon called a “sundog” that I had never heard of. I didn't really think too much about it when I chose the name; then when people asked me about it I felt like the truth was pretty stupid, so I made up some kind of meaning. Here is the fake origin of the title: Sundogs, or parhelia, are false suns that appear as a result of refracted sunlight from suspended ice. They look like the sun and appear next to the sun, but actually they are just an illusion. Japan is the Land of the Rising Sun and the Japanese people are the People of the Sun, descended from the sun goddess Amaterasu. Sundogs is about expats trying to live among all these suns. Half the time nobody notices, other times it just looks strange, but even if it is only an illusion, we try our best to blend in with the rising sun...it almost sounds like I mean it, right?

Sundogscaptures the personal feel of a diary; did keeping a journal before this inspire the idea?

To be honest, Sundogs was an exercise in discipline. I resolved one year to draw every day and the only way to make myself do that was to keep it as a diary comic. I figured if I gave myself deadlines and published it as a zine it would force me not to give up. Looking back and seeing my own life told this way, though, helps me see what makes diary comics so compelling as a genre. It shows life for what it is. Life isn't kind enough to give us overarching themes, convenient morals and clear conclusions. It is just a series of moments that takes on meaning only when taken in big enough doses.  It can get boring and repetitive, but you still feel disappointed when it’s over.

In the strip you divulge things like your wife walking in on you during an Internet porn session and encounters with racism in Japan. Have you ever intentionally left any of these observations out?

As any expat in Japan can testify to, living here can really wear on you after a while. You start to feel bitter and resentful about all kinds of things that may or may not have anything to do with Japan. I try to leave those sorts of observations out because I think it may paint a picture of Japan that I don't want to portray. As far as embarrassing things like passing out drunk at a work party or throwing my back out masturbating, I am pretty much an open book.

Are there any subjects that are too personal or taboo for the strip?

I feel fine drawing myself naked in the strip, or even my kids in the nude, but for some reason I feel uncomfortable drawing my wife naked for the world to see. That one is just for me. Also, for years I told my wife I had quit smoking even though I always drew myself smoking in the comic. She never called me out on it.

On a lean day for ideas, how difficult is it to come up with a hook that makes each strip unique from every other one?

You just described the hardest part about keeping the diary. Some strips feel so repetitive I feel bad just drawing it. I am aware how many panels I have of me drawing this very comic, eating something, or watching Star Trek. The only thing worse than a day with nothing new to say is the type of day where you have way too much to condense into three or four panels. I remember moments where something interesting was happening to me and I thought to myself, “Not now! I already have enough for today!” What a goofy way to look at life.

As a cartoonist and musician, who are your influences?

I am a huge fan of Love and Rockets, especially Gilbert Hernandez. A huge inspiration for this comic was the work of L.A.-based cartoonist Carrie McNinch, who is a dear friend. Jeffrey Brown has also been sort of a mentor along the way, always offering great criticism and support. James Kochalka is the master of the genre of diary comics. His American Elf comics showed me that capturing a snippet of a conversation conveys way more than cataloging the events in a day. Musically, there are a lot of Japanese punk bands from the early ’90s that blow me away: Fruityand Nuts & Milk are two of the best, as well as Ging Nang Boyz for anybody looking to check out great Japanese rock that inspires me.

For you, what are some of the challenges of living the expat life and raising a family in Japan?

Without making this too much of a downer, the biggest challenge is knowing that I will never be Japanese. It’s not the same in countries like America where anybody is American after living there for a certain length of time. Even if I speak fluent Japanese, become naturalized and eat natto every morning, people will still ask me how long I have been here and if I know how to use chopsticks. I saw an application recently for baby models and they had a separate form for “half” babies. It really depresses me to think my son, who is a Japanese citizen and has been raised here, will never be considered truly Japanese.

How about the most satisfying aspects?

I went to a movie theater tonight and was able to order a beer. I could grab a beer at the convenience store and drink it on the way home. I know that makes me sound like an alcoholic but the truth is Japan as a society is far less uptight than North America in a lot of ways. They are more comfortable with their sexuality, bad habits and their private lives. Sure, they are hung up in other ways with face masks and eye patches everywhere, but people are more free to just do what they want in their free time without some sort of stigma attached. People of all ages read comics, for example. Street thugs wear hair clips and pink track suits without getting grief for it. If a guy likes schoolgirls he isn't a deviant, and if a guy likes to drink in the park he is not an alcoholic.

Do you ever plan to return to the U.S.? What other places would you like to visit?

I hope to let me my kids experience the American school system at least for a few years, so eventually I think we will end up back there. I say that now but every time I ride my bike around town and look at all these familiar places, I realize how hard it will be for me to ever leave this city where my kids were born and so many things have happened to me. Before our kids were born my wife and I entertained fantasies of living all over the world and leaving as soon as things got boring but just getting the kids ready for a trip across town is a lot of work now. Someday I would love to do the 88 Temples Pilgrimage in Shikoku or visit the shochubreweries in Kagoshima. As far as the rest of Asia goes, I am interested in seeing absolutely every part, whether it’s freezing cold or blistering hot, or smells like dog turds. Asia is absolutely fascinating and I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I live here.

How did you first get in touch with Tonoharu cartoonist and Aftershock contributor Lars Martinson?

I actually interviewed him for a magazine here in Nagoya that I work for. I ordered his book by chance from a secondhand book dealer in Japan, and once I read it I instantly wanted to tell people in Japan about it because it’s something all expats can relate to, especially anybody who has worked as an English teacher.

In Sundogs 2010 you wrote that you surpassed Scheherazade by penning over 1,001 strips. What were your biggest developments as an artist in that time?

I think if you read all three books back to back, it’s pretty easy to see the developments in terms of art and storytelling. The biggest artistic development was probably being able to visualize what I wanted it to look like before I drew it. For the first two years it was usually a mystery to me until the drawing was finished, but in the last year I was able to frame the shot more closely to what I envisioned. That gave me the ability to be more experimental in terms of strange angles, foreshortening and just making it more playful in general.

Can you point to a specific place where your drawing style crystallized? Is there a strip where you were especially satisfied with the outcome?

I noticed more of a change in the way I told a story. The first few months of comics are really stiff, just cataloging the events in my day. By the end, I had small snippets of a story. I love the strips where I could tell a whole story in just three or four panels, like when I told my son I was going to count to 30 and then he had to leave the bathtub. When he didn't like that idea, I told him I would count to the biggest number he knew, and he chose 12. There is a ton of information being communicated in that one gag: the innocence of childhood; the amusing father-son dynamic. I learned over the years that what you leave out of a story can often be as important as what you leave in.

I was really touched by your growing relationship depicted with your young son Nimo. What kind of feedback have you received from others about that aspect of Sundogs?

A lot of people feel like they know Nimo from reading the comic, which is pretty funny. I had a similar moment recently when I met the daughter of a famous journal comics writer from the ’90s. I felt like I knew her before we even got to talk, and then I realized that it was sort of weird. It made me feel like a stalker to have all this info on her from when she was young, and she knew nothing about me. It has also been a point where other cartoonists with kids can relate. Jeffrey Brown's son Oscar is about the same age as Nimo, so it’s a subject that often comes up between us.

Besides obviously incorporating them into your strips, how does having children influence your idea process as a writer and illustrator?

Since my son was just a baby, he has always been pretty creative and taught me to think about things in new ways. He used to have this book that he always wanted me to read to him, but he wanted me to start in the middle, read to the end and then read the beginning. He just liked it that way, and I thought it was so cool that he hasn't had it ingrained in his mind yet that books go from front to back. The way his mind is still wide open and unrestricted makes me jealous, and I hope to glean whatever I can from that. The other day he surprised me by saying, “Let’s make believe we are oden [a kind of stew]–okay, I am the konyaku.” That has got to be the most boring make believe I have ever heard of. This year I attempted (and failed) to make a 24 hour comic, but the story was influenced by stories that Nimo and I make up together. The stories are how he met “Tomorrow-Nimo” and “90-Year-Old Nimo” one night, or how he woke up to find his house had been turned into the ocean. It’s actually pretty similar to his namesake, Windsor McCay's Little Nemo in Slumberland, but influenced by how he wants the stories to go.

Eating and drinking are two other big recurring themes in Sundogs. What are some of the most memorable meals you’ve enjoyed in Japan?

I go out of my way to find strange stuff. Food is one of the best parts about living abroad and I can stomach just about anything. I had dog meat, which might be considered shocking. Don't believe what anybody tells you: Korea, China and Japan all have traditional dishes made with dog, even if most people don't know it. Still, the most shocking thing that sticks in my mind is odori-gui: literally, dancing food. Wriggling tentacles and shrimp that arches its back when you bite into is something I will never get used to. I have come to love shirako–little pouches of fish semen.

Tell us some more about your band.

I had a band here called the Bears and we were short-lived. Maybe that is for the best. We only played two shows in Japan, one in Nagoya and two in Tokyo. We got naked at all three of them and often too drunk to play. After one show we went around the room kissing all the other bands on the mouth. We have videos of our shows on YouTube, but watch them at your own risk. Plenty of unflattering shots of my flabby belly running around naked. We broke up for the same reason  most expat bands break up: everybody moved away and left me with a stupid bass I can't sell back.

Do you go to any concerts by well-known performers in Nagoya? What have some of the highlights been for you seeing shows in Japan?

Shows in Japan are what I use to revive my love for the place. Teaching lifeless students and uptight salarymen all the time can grind me down, but one punk show here and I am in love with Japan all over again. Performers really put everything into it and there is a lot more of an expectation that they will entertain you here. I also love seeing guys show up after they just got through with work and they are still wearing their suits and ties but really getting down to the music. Nobody ridicules them for that and I love that. Shows in Japan seem to have just as much energy as shows in the U.S. without as much aggression.

Any other messages for our readers?

My books are for sale but I would be just as happy to receive a nice trade. If you enjoy the books, and especially if you don't, write to me and let me know. The saddest thing to me about this machine age we live in is that people can't be arsed to send off a letter of criticism or appreciation. If you find yourself in Nagoya, get in touch with me and we'll split some whiskey and milk tea.

Aftershock is available now in paperback and Kindle editions. For more of Adam’s works, visit www.biguglyrobot.net.

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