My long-standing, one-sided feud with Neail Gaiman and his twee-goth masterpiece Sandman, are well-documented, so I won’t go into it here, but Sandman is, basically, the Radiohead of comics.
Also, anything Geoff Johns has ever done. I just don’t relate to it in any fashion whatsoever. It might have something to do with having not read a non-Frank Miller-written DC comic until I was well into my 20s, or it might be just that I’m too big of a snob, but I do not get the guy’s appeal in the least. Same with the other “Weird Jeff,” Jeph Loeb. I mean, people swear by Long Halloween and (ugh) Hush, but you literally could not pay me to read either of those.
I think Garth Ennis is overrated. I mean, bless you if you like his stuff, but I tried and … nope. It’s not for me. Hitman is okay, I guess, but I read the first two trades and didn’t feel any sort of burning desire to see the thing through to the end.
I’m also not really on the “white cartoonist bemoans his life” train, ie. indie sacred cows Chris Ware and Dan Clowes. Their styles are fantastic, but it’s in service of some dull bullshit that doesn’t interest me in the least. Same with Seth, though Wimbledon Green is some A++ stuff. (I haven’t read the sequel, The Great Northern Brotherhood of Canadian Cartoonists, but it’s on my Wish List.)
Come to think of it, Kevin Huizenga’s really the only cartoonist doing that sort of thing that is at all interesting. And he’s not really doing autobio stuff so much as magical realist, quasi-autobio stories. Anders Nielsen’s in the same boat, I guess, but some of his stuff is a little too up its own ass.
This just in: Dylan hates everything. I approve.