La Perdida. (AP Photo/Pantheon Books)

Portrait of the artist, by the artist, Jessica Abel. (AP Photo/Pantheon Books)

AP AUDIO In order to listen to this news clip you must have Macromedia's Flash Player version 7 or greater installed. __DOWNLOADHTML__ Jessica Abel talks about Wonder Woman's creator, Charles Moulton Marston and his feminist tendencies.

As a little girl, I loved comics. I devoured Tin Tin, Asterix and Raymond Briggs of "The Snowman" fame. Every week I bought the classic British comic called "The Beano," and I was even a member of the fan club. I couldn't get enough of the naughty escapades of Minnie the Minx, the Bash Street Kids and Dennis the Menace (not the American version) with his scurrilous dog Gnasher. Back then, I didn't know that the 'g' in "Gnasher" was supposed to be silent.

So why was it so hard for me, as an adult, to break into the comic and graphic novel universe? Because the works were inaccessible -- both physically (they weren't sold in regular bookstores) and, more important, emotionally (they seemed deeply reserved for masculine fantasy).

Then one day I was introduced to Marjane Satrapi's "Persepolis" series. It grabbed my attention immediately. Satrapi's graphic memoirs told the story of a smart, feisty girl growing up during the Islamic revolution in Iran. I could relate to that! Suddenly the idea of graphic novels didn't seem so -- well -- novel.

The world of comics opened its doors to me, and I was receptive. I passed it on to my boyfriend, who loved it, and bought a copy for his sister. Was my initiation something as simple as picking up a book by another woman? I think it was.

It's a tricky situation. The genre is still trivialized as childish or unliterary, though that perception is changing. So to be a female cartoonist trying to get published -- well, that's doubly hard. Men have always dominated the world of comics, but there is a void gasping to be filled -- and publishers are starting to invest in female cartoonists.

The equation is simple: The more women read graphic novels or comics, the more they'll want to create them. For those who have never tested the waters, a comfortable entry point might be as simple as it was for me -- try out a comic created by another woman.

"A woman who is not familiar with comics is more likely to pick up a comic by a woman because they have at least one thing in common," says cartoonist Jessica Abel of Brooklyn, N.Y. "Maybe after that it doesn't make that much difference, but certainly initially I think it does make a difference."

Abel is tired of being singled out because of her gender. She just wants to make comics -- and make them well. After repeated invitations to all-female anthologies, she says, "I started to feel that I would never just be a cartoonist; I'd always be a woman cartoonist."

Abel's first full-length graphic novel, "La Perdida," is a gripping yarn about twentysomething Americans in Mexico City who dream of "authentic" lifestyles.

Carla's estranged father is Mexican, so she moves there in the hope of finding her Mexican side. At first she stays with an ex-boyfriend, Harry, a blueblood who's trying to live an expatriate-writer fantasy in the style of his heroes, Burroughs and Kerouac.

She falls in with a group of small-time drug dealers but always holds onto to her naive ideals and her love of Frida Kahlo. The novel is about the loss of innocence in a blend of bilingual dialogue and charismatic black-and-white drawings.

It takes a load of talent to create this kind of art. How does one learn it? Abel, who taught herself, teaches in the cartooning department at the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan, where about a third of her students are female.

It's still uncommon to find institutions that teach cartooning, but the genre stands on the threshold of change. Abel says her students' ability to flourish in a community of peers is pivotal.

It will take this kind of generation, one that is fluent in the culture, to balance the gender inequality and normalize female cartoonists. Looks like we're getting closer to Abel's dream: "The war is won when my sex is not notable at all."

CLOSE-UP

Here's a peek at two recent graphic novels that bring women's issues to the forefront. Both are candid tales of true female experiences that can be enjoyed by both men and women:

These women invite you to some girly conversation. (AP Photo/Pantheon Books)

Marjane Satrapi. (AP Photo/Pantheon Books/Maria Ortiz)

"Embroideries" by Marjane Satrapi

($10.95, Pantheon Books)

"Embroideries" is a bit like Plato's Symposium, but the group of Greek men exchanging stories about love and sex is replaced with a party of Iranian women.

Unlike Plato's lofty posse, Satrapi's ladies are unabashedly bawdy in their discussion about the nuts and bolts of male-female relations. Meet Satrapi's grandmother, an opium addict who believes that "to speak behind others' backs is the ventilator of the heart." And the Persian aristocrat who rants about double standards between the sexes: "Why is it the women who have to be virgins? Why suffer torment to satisfy an asshole?"

Topics discussed include breast enlargement, the aesthetics of uncircumcised penises and arranged marriage. The dialogue is fast and racy, and the elegant black and white drawings are hilarious. The themes are universally feminine.

Dragonslippers. (AP Photo/Black Cat)

Not the easiest man to live with. (AP Photo/Black Cat)

"Dragonslippers: This is What an Abusive Relationship Looks Like" by Rosalind B. Penfold

($15, Black Cat)

"Roz" B. Penfold uses a pseudonym to tell the painful story of her decade-long relationship with Brian and his four children.

Roz starts out as a successful 35-year-old who runs her own business. She meets Brian and falls in love with his extreme displays of affection, but the flip side of that behavior rears its head. Brian transforms into an unbearable bully; Roz becomes a sack of manipulated nerves.

The drawings were "emotional shorthand" -- a visual diary of sorts, a canvas where she could confess her anguish. This might explain the sense of urgency in the crude drawing style, which is simple and rounded.

It's an intimate journey through the author's memories. She didn't do the drawings for the public to see but hopes her story can help people identify abuse before it gets out of control.

Shazna Nessa is asap's interactive editor.

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