Saga: Volume 1

by Brian K. Vaughan (story) and Fiona Staples (art), 161 pages

A generations-long war between the winged race of the planet Landfall and the horned race of the moon Wreath has spread well beyond the limits of the latter's orbit around the former.  Then one day fate brings an unruly winged soldier named Alana face-to-face with a tired horned prisoner of war named Marko on a muddy little planet called Cleave.  The two argue, bond over a trashy romance novel, come to realize they have the same view of this endless war, and run away together.  Only their respective home-worlds won't let them off so easily.  With bounty hunters and zealous soldiers perpetually on their heels, it's a wonder they have enough time to bring a daughter into the universe, but they do just that before setting off across the stars in hopes of giving her a future free of the death and destruction that is all they've ever known.

Ooh, this is quite lovely and different and unafraid to be either.  It's also violent and unsettlingly graphic, but the unpleasantness is sadly part of everyday existence for these people.  Happily, so is snark.  I love that this series isn't just about the romance or the adventure--it's about family and hard work and life and death and all those ongoing things that are the reality usually ignored by "happily ever after."  Alana and Marko's daughter, Hazel, provides intermittent commentary from some unknown point in the future as we watch her parents struggle to keep her and each other alive through labor and firefights and "haunted" forests and unexpected visits from her grandparents.  Just like in the real world, the politics are crazy (there are winged-race-aligned royals with computer monitors for heads who, like royalty anywhere, don't seem to have much control of their own lives).  And the bounty hunters and other pursuers are scary but complicated, themselves.  I've been looking forward to reading this for many months and am excitedly awaiting the next trade paper installment.

Kingdom Come

by Mark Waid (story) and Alex Ross ( art), 228 pages

Some thirty years after the glory days of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and other big-name superheroes, the next generation of "metahumans" is making its mark on society--and it's not a pretty one.  Without their predecessors' work ethic and moral codes, the new super-powered wave is wreaking havoc as they try to prove themselves more powerful than the next metahuman with no concern for the collateral damage they incur in the process.  Fed up, world government officials are discussing new stringent laws curtailing the rights of metahumans (or even more drastic measures) while Wonder Woman goes looking for Superman to try and convince him to come out of his self-imposed retirement following a catastrophic accident when he last faced off with a reckless metahuman.  Witness to the conflict and deliberation is a human preacher, chosen by the Vision to pass judgment on all those involved in the conflict (humans and heroes, alike) and direct the fate of the world.

Caveats: I am not a big superhero comic reader and most of what little knowledge I have is of the Marvel variety.  That said:  This sure is pretty, with its near photo-realistic painted panels.  My only complaint on the visuals is that sometimes they look too photographic, looking more like captured poses than captured action and often as though characters interacting in the same panel were painted from two separate photographs, with their eyes intently looking off into space instead of at each other.  Still, pretty.  And an instance in which the cover accurately represents the content, which I very much appreciate (and which is an annoyingly rare occurrence in mainstream American comics).  Story-wise, I had a harder time with this, largely because I am not a DC girl and am not familiar with many faces or stories outside the three mentioned in the above paragraph's first sentence (and most of that is from movies and TV reruns, not the actual comics).  Since much of the plot relies on readers' prior knowledge of DC characters and backstories, I felt a little lost and ignorant.  I also felt the narration itself was overly dramatic and pretentious, but I imagine I would have more easily accepted its preachy weightiness if I'd had a better understanding of what was going on and who people were.  Even with my confusion, however, the action's climax is actually a little moving (even if I didn't have any idea who Billy Batson / Captain Marvel was and had to figure out from context why he kept saying "shazam!").  (Go ahead, laugh at my ignorance.  My big brother already did when I explained my reactions to him--and he's a Marvel person, too, just a more well-rounded one.)  I did like sarcastic, snarky Batman, though, even with his weird exoskeleton thingy.  (He's always been the most relatable and interesting of the major DC personalities for me.)  And my favorite scenes are of him, Superman, and Wonder Woman hiding in plain sight by hanging out in a horrifically tacky superhero-themed restaurant, talking and laughing and acting more human and down-to-earth than anywhere else in the book.

Not a good gateway into the genre, this, though if you're already a DC fan it's probably on your must-read list.  I think I prefer Ross's equally pretty Marvels (written by Kurt Busiek), not just because it takes place in a universe I know more about, but because rather than portraying a chaotic future involving famous faces from the perspective of an outsider familiar with their stories, it portrays a handful of famous origin stories from the point-of-view of an outsider to whom the faces and events are new, too, meaning that even if you miss a lot of the references you can still appreciate and understand most of what's happening.  Both Kingdom Come and Marvels have won a handful of Eisner Awards, so they are worth taking a gander at if you want proof that superhero comics can be "art."

Morning Glories: Volume 1: For a Better Future

by Nick Spencer (words), Joe Eisma (art), Rodin Esquejo (covers), Alex Sollazzo (colors), Johnny Lowe (letters), and Tim Daniel (design), 288 pages

Six gifted sixteen-year-olds make the cut to get into the very exclusive Morning Glories Academy, only to find, once inside, that the curriculum could kill them--if the teachers don't get them first.

I don't know what's going on here!  The school is baaaad news, both for the students and their families on the outside.  There's some nununununess harking back at least to the Spanish Inquisition, some weird spinning physics experiment in the attic, a murderous ghost (?) with free rein over truants, and a lot of scary, faithful-to-the-mission (whatever it is) faculty members.  The set-up draws you in and the kids are an interesting mix of well-behaved youngsters and potentially bad seeds, with the most interesting wild card so far being the self-serving rich boy (if this were D&D, he'd be chaotic neutral, I think).  We don't know much about most of them yet, though, so we'll have to wait to see how they do or don't come together as a team (if they survive--unbrainwashed--long enough to get that far).

Artwise, the largely soft, pastel-hued interior art seems an ok fit for the school's cheerful veneer, as are the covers (with the exception of blonde Casey's weird skirt and legs on the front cover--they just don't look right to me at all).  I do wonder at the decision to relay all the swearing (and there's a good deal of it) with the traditional smattering of let-your-imagination-fill-in-the-blanks symbols, yet there's no hesitation to show things like the faces of unfortunate individuals having their eyeballs pushed out of their sockets from behind by intrusive semi-ghostly fingers (this happens at least twice and it isn't pretty either time).  Personally, I'd rather the gory violence be off-panel or merely strongly suggested and the text offer up the colorful metaphors without the squiggles and dollar signs, but that's just me.  I'm squeamish about things grisly and unbothered by foul language as long as it belongs, which it mostly does here.

I can't decide if I want to read more or not.  Some bits really bother me, others intrigue me, and I can't tell which will win out in the end.  Hrmmmmmmm.

Cowboy Ninja Viking: Volume 1

by A. J. Lieberman (story), Riley Rossmo (art, tones), and Clayton Cowles (lettering); Dave Casey (cover design), Jim Valentino (book design), 154 pages

An unstable man with multiple personality disorder is drawn back into the defunct secret government program that turned his affliction into an asset in the War on Terror in this high-energy, humor-driven action series.

For more details, please see my full review on NoFlyingNoTights.com!

Watchmen

by Alan Moore (story), Dave Gibbons (art), and John Higgins (color), 407 pages

Costumed adventurers (except those working for the feds) have been outlawed since the Keene Act in 1977.  But Rorschach never came in from the cold.  And now that a middle-aged sellout, one of his former colleagues--never exactly a friend, the Comedian, though they may have seen the world similarly--has been murdered, Rorschach takes it upon himself to investigate, suspecting a mask-killing conspiracy is at work.  But the more this lost soul digs, the bigger and more unbelievable the truth is revealed to be.

How to sum up this classic graphic tale?  It's dark (really dark), twisted, clever, violent, thought-provoking, and a turning-point in comics history.  Moore, Gibbons, and Higgins create an alternate history in which masked vigilantes were for a time a part of everyday life in America.  They also pull back the curtain and show the reader how sadly mundane and dysfunctional that nostalgically idealized era was and how those behind the masks have variously dealt with the changes in their circumstances over the years.  Not exactly "heroes," most of them.  Sunshine and bunnies this is not, though there are a few surprisingly good zingers.  The reader is challenged to feel for these imperfect people and to consider the weight of their responsibilities and the consequences of their decisions.  Do you agree with their choices?  Can you blame them for making them?  While I was getting ready for my book discussion on this title, I realized just how dense and complex a story it really is.  The artwork is riddled with motifs and symbolism.  The meticulously plotted story falls into place through multiple storylines and timeframes, flashbacks and meta-fiction, snippets of files and articles and tell-all autobiographies.  It's a bit insane, really.  And I think it's rather brilliant.

The Surrogates

by Robert Venditti (story) and Brett Weldele (art), 204 pages

In the not too distant future, most people stay home and live and work remotely through highly realistic high-tech robots called surrogates.  When his surrogate is damaged while investigating the destruction of several surrogates in an electrical storm and during a break-in at a lab, Harvey finds himself the odd man out when he decides to actually go to work in person.

This near-future dystopian story is more social commentary (/warning?) than mystery, but I enjoyed pondering the questions it poses.  From what I hear, the movie adaptation with Bruce Willis is quite different, so I'll have to watch it and compare the two.  If you give this a look-see, you might consider coming to BWD to chat about it in the fall when it has its turn in our ongoing graphic novel discussions.*

*the third Thursday of every month at 6:30 (shameless program plug)  :P

Sweet Tooth: Volume 4: Endangered Species

by Jeff Lemire, 167 pages

Gus and company head north to learn the truth of Gus's (and hopefully the plague's) origins.  Along the way, they encounter a strange man holing up within the walls of a dam-turned-fortress-of-self-sufficiency.  He offers them sanctuary and a home, but Jeppard doesn't like it.  Who to believe?  They're all so tired of being afraid and running, but if they stay they may never solve the mystery.

Ooh, I don't trust him, either!  Get out of there, people!

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

by Frank Miller with Klaus Janson and Lynn Varley, John Costanza (lettering); Batman created by Bob Kane, 227 pages

The Batman hasn't been seen in Gotham for years, but as skyrocketing crime statistics threaten to drag the city into chaos, his aging alter ego struggles against the urge to come out of retirement.

At last I can eliminate this title from my comics-loving conscience's not-yet-read list--woot!

Bruce Wayne is no spring chicken. Pushing sixty tends to take the edge off one's crime-fighting pizzazz, and I love that Wayne acknowledges this, is a little worried about it, and finds less-taxing workarounds when he can. It helps, of course, to have a talented teenage sidekick to pick up the slack. Batman fights not only punk gangs with bad grammar, "rehabilitated" old foes, and vigilante-averse authorities, but his own body and the changing of the guard. The layers of conflict here besides just those between good and bad give this seminal addition to the comics world, and the superhero genre in particular, its depth and staying power.

The Unwritten: Volume 4: Leviathan

by Mike Carey (story), Peter Gross (art), and Yuko Shimizu (cover and incidental art), 136 pages

Tom, Lizzie, and Savoy arrive in New England searching for clues to the "source" of story-bound magic so Tom can start to figure out how to control it instead of just being at its whim and crossing his fingers. While he inadvertently gets pulled into the story of Moby Dick, Lizzie and the increasingly sun-averse Savoy get caught up in one of the Cabal's webs.

Oh no, Savoy's looking a little green around the gills! But I worry less after seeing Lizzie's practical but undisturbed reaction. As long as somebody brings him his meals and he stays out of direct sunlight, maybe he'll be ok (as will the jugulars of those around him). Stupid Ambrosio, biting people without their permission.

I do love the way this series draws on literary allusions and philosophical theories as a basis for its magic. All the whale business this time around was rather fun (Tom meets up with some interesting personages in the belly of one). And the continuation of the story of Pauly, former acquaintance of Tom's father, in the form of a deranged rabbit now exiled to a scary staircase land with a bunch of other (somewhat familiar) talking animals is weird and disturbing and a bit cool (I do hope he gets his comeuppance, the selfish thing).

Sweet Tooth: volume 3: Animal Armies

by Jeff Lemire, 143 pages

Dr. Singh searches for the truth behind the plague, desperately hopeful that Gus is the key. Meanwhile, Jepperd and the others set out to launch a possibly suicidal rescue mission.

*shudder*

There are some whacked out, unpleasant, and yet momentarily useful (at least until they decide you're not useful) people out there. Everybody's so wounded! Even some of the horrible-seeming characters have sympathetic motives. Some are still just plain bad, though, and you can't help but breathe a sigh of temporary relief when they're out of the picture.

Sweet Tooth: Volume 2: In Captivity

by Jeff Lemire, 140 pages

Gus meets some other kids in the same boat and sees more of the horror the outside world is willing to inflict on its own kind in the name of self-preservation. Meanwhile, we see Jepperd's backstory and learn what was so important about the contents of that duffle bag that he'd sell Gus away for it.

Sympathy, violence, fear, and despising fill these pages. I think I'm going to have to start following each volume of this series with an immediate chaser of sunshine and bunnies.

Samurai's Blood

by Owen Wiseman and Michael Benaroya (creators), Owen Wiseman (script), Nam Kim (pencils), Matt Dalton (inks), Sakti Yuwono (colors), Josh Aitken (letters), Rob Prior (logo), and Jo Chen (covers), 185 pages

When the Sanjo clan is overthrown and nearly wiped out through the greed and betrayal of two of its own retainers, it's up to those who remain to make things right.

I picked this up because of the cover art and because I do enjoy a good samurai and sword story. Although I was disappointed that the story art was not as cool, attractive, and realistic as the covers (which are by a different person, as is often the way with serial comics from the big American publishers), I still enjoyed reading it.

I have not read nearly as many American comics as I have Japanese and Korean ones, so as I try to remedy that I find myself going through an adjustment period. I have to remind myself that the traditions of each are different and I can't judge them with quite the same scale. So just keep that in mind whenever you hear / read me grumbling about overly-beefy heroes, Botox-lipped heroines, and insides that don't match their outsides.

I loved Jo Chen's covers for the originally serially-published chapters (so much so that I Googled her and bookmarked her official website). Every time I flipped the page to start a new chapter and saw one, I'd try to hold that image of the characters in my head while I read the actual story. The digitally-colored interior art is very slick. While I like the well-used color palette and detailed backgrounds, I was less fond of the figure art. The pronounced chins, cheekbones, jaws, and noses (hallmarks of traditional American superhero comics), and the fact that many characters don't look the same from panel-to-panel, distracted me. Also, I thought the plot seemed like it skimmed over a few points that would have worked better (and would have given the reader more opportunity to get emotionally invested in the characters) had they been given a little more attention. And while the narration gets a little purple at times, it fits the melodrama of the story, so I didn't mind too much. Overall, this is a decent action / revenge drama that might have benefited from an additional couple of fleshing-out chapters along the way.

The Unwritten: Volume 3: Dead Man's Knock

by Mike Carey (story), Peter Gross (art), and Yuko Shimizu (covers), 152 pages

Lizzie struggles with her own identity issues and Savoy has an unlucky run-in with Tommy Taylor's immortal nemesis, the vampire Ambrosio, as the release date of missing Wilson Taylor's fabled fourteenth Tommy Taylor book draws near. At the center of a complex plot he doesn't understand, Tom believes the only way he'll find any answers is to track down his father and demand a full explanation. But he should know better than to assume he'd get anything like a straight answer from the man who may have written him into this chaotic mess in the first place.

Lizzie and Savoy appear to be the "real world" mirrors of Tommy Taylor's loyal friends Sue and Peter, who are themselves rather Ron and Hermione-like (on purpose), so I can only hope they fair better in the end than most of the unfortunate people caught up in this word-woven web. Poor Lizzie's messed -up background is laid out for the reader as a choose-your-own-adventure chapter. I've never had much patience for those, so I ignored the "go here," "go there" instructions and just read the pages in order, trying to link them together logically in my head, which seemed to work ok. I've grown rather attached to Savoy's comic relief, so Ambrosio and his possessed vessels had better keep their sharp pointy teeth well away from him. But as unpleasant as Wilson's intentionally Voldemort-like "fictional" vampire is, the shadowy cabal of wordsmiths and string-pullers trying to shape the world to their liking is far more frightening.

Tom and friends are off to Nantucket next to "catch a whale." Hee! Being a fan of Moby Dick, I'm looking forward to seeing how Carey ties it in with Tom's metaphysical quest for truth.

This is one series where the lovely dream-like cover illustrations balance out the cartoony Tommy Taylor segments and the main story's more traditional, old-school comic book look. The mix of art styles blends interestingly with the dark violence, reality-bending philosophical examinations of literature, and moments of levity (the latter being rare but, oh, so appreciated!).

Chew: Volume 4: Flambé

by John Layman (story) and Rob Guillory (art), 115 pages

Tony investigates a school rampage instigated by a mind-controlling recipe, goes on a USDA suicide mission to stop production of a bio-weapon, sneaks into Area 51 with his twin sister to foil domestic E.G.G. terrorists, and infiltrates a Kool-Aid-drinking egg cult, all in pursuit of truth, justice, and illegal fowl.

All we learn this volume is that Tony's sister's got a secret of her own, that his boss really wants him dead (which isn't new or surprising, but it's still pretty funny), and that messing with Poyo the fighting rooster is a bad idea (ditto). But in between, we get to watch Tony and John banter as they try to piece together the clues, Savoy expand his mind, the Russian "vampire" gloat, and Tony blush and project little pink hearts whenever he talks to his girlfriend. There's more--some of it icky, some of it cute, most of it amusing. And now I must wait for the next trade (out in April!).

The Unwritten: Volume 2: Inside Man

by Mike Carey (story), Peter Gross (art), and Yuko Shimizu (covers), 164 pages

With all the circumstantial evidence against him, Tom Taylor loses the love of his erstwhile fans as well as his freedom following a spree gruesome murders at a historic villa. In prison, he meets his new cellmate Savoy, the only person who seems remotely sympathetic about his situation. But even on the inside, Tom's not safe from the powerful forces looking to remove him as a threat. And he's still struggling to accept the truth of who or what he is, the depth of his father's elaborate plans, and the existence of what it is increasingly difficult to deny is magic.

This volume gets even darker and more surreal than the last as Tom and his companions (Savoy and Lizzie Hexam, a possible agent / pawn of his father's) step out of the bloody reality of the prison under siege and into a pre-recorded-film-like WWII Nazi Germany. It's all harmless enough...until you focus your attention on something and give it substance. A twisted tale's corruption takes on physical mass and threatens to swallow everything in its path. The power of words to shape people, perceptions, and history, itself, takes some work to wrap your head around, but it's interesting stuff. And the side story about one of Tom's father's enemies trapped in a Beatrix Potter / Winnie the Pooh-ish story with a dark underbelly is both disturbing and cool. (The first volume ended with a chapter about Rudyard Kipling's assisted rise to prominence, the effects his writing had on the British Empire, and his desperately clever efforts to fight back against his "handlers" with more words when he realized what he'd contributed to. Neatness!)

Sweet Tooth: Volume 1: Out of the Deep Woods

by Jeff Lemire, 124 pages

One of the cover blurbs for this describes it as "Mad Max with antlers." Strangely, that actually fits.

Nine-year-old Gus lives in the woods with his aging, ailing dad, who warns him to never go beyond the perimeter fence and into the dangerous outside world. But he didn't tell Gus what to do if the dangerous outside world comes to the woods. Where can the boy be safe now? And whom can he trust?

Sweet, naive little Gus has that whole "deer in the headlights" look down pretty well. Of course, he comes by it naturally. It's post-apocalyptic chaos out there and no kid with antlers (or bunny ears or a pig snout or whatever) is going to make it very far without a friend...or without a gun. It's not pretty and it's not supposed to be. The reader doesn't know how the world got this way or where it's going (other than nowhere good just yet). But she hopes that Gus and his influence on the big and small will nudge things in a more positive direction soon.

Fight back, kiddos! Come on, Big Man! Hear that little niggling voice in the back of your head? That's your conscience. Listen to it, won't you? *eagerly ILLs Volume 2*

The Unwritten: Volume 1: Tommy Taylor and the Bogus Identity

by Mike Carey (story), Peter Gross (art), and Yuko Shimizu (cover and incidental art), 140 pages

Having your emotionally distant beloved-children's-author of a father base a universally popular character on you is hard enough, what with the legions of adoring fans who can't tell the difference between fact and fiction. But it only gets worse when he disappears after publishing the thirteenth and final (?) book, leaving you to fight for your identity, fend off the increasingly suspicious police, and deal with the possibility that you may have no better a grasp on what is and isn't real than your father's readers.

I quite liked this first installment and will definitely read more. What starts out as a peek behind the curtain of the publishing and convention worlds becomes an intriguing tale of magic and mystery dark enough to qualify as horror, all with a literary, philosophical bent.

Chew: Volume 3: Just Desserts

by John Layman (story) and Rob Guillory (art), 121 pages

Tony tries to balance his personal life (dates with "persuasive" food writer! family Thanksgiving [complete with illicit bird]!) and his work (hateful boss! wonderful nutjob partner! still-at-liberty villain!), with both silly and serious results. Is a double agent really a triple agent? And what's Tony going to do when his nemesis figures out his shocking weak spot?!

Ooh, surprises! And guffaws. Also, uh-oh. I need the next book!

Chew: Volume 2: International Flavor

by John Layman (story) and Rob Guillory (art), 121 pages

When Tony takes an off-the-record trip to a chicken-loving resort island in pursuit of a lead, what begins as curiosity quickly turns personal. Now he's got to coordinate with a crazy Agriculture Department agent, dig up a grave, locate a stolen fighting rooster, talk his greedy chef of a brother out of job, rescue the woman of his dreams, and deal with a potential Russian vampire linked to the vigilante conspiracy theorist from volume one. And of course he has to eat a lot of questionable stuff to do it.

I keep cracking up over every little thing in this series. Notes on walls and bulletin boards ("Colonel Sanders wanted for questioning"--"TPS Reports must be filed by end of day!"). All the different brands of artificial chicken products, such as Poult-Free and my favorite, Fricken (think "ribbit"). And the undefeated rooster's wall of fame ("Poyo: Behind the Mask"--"Cockfight will be followed immediately by BBQ"--"Could Poyo Beat a Man?"--the answer is "yes," by the way). And those are just from the backgrounds. :)

Fables: Volume 1: Legends in Exile

by Bill Willingham (story), Lan Medina (pencils), Steve Leialoha and Craig Hamilton (inks), Sherilyn van Valkenburgh (colors), Todd Klein (letters), and James Jean and Alex Maleev (original series covers), 127 pages

When all the different kingdoms of folklore and fairy tale are overrun by an avaricious enemy only known as the Adversary, the denizens of the old worlds regroup in the mundane land of New Amsterdam. In order to survive, they must pull together, so they sign accords granting amnesty for all their past deeds and forge ahead for centuries as carriages give way to yellow cabs and New Amsterdam becomes New York. Things are going as well as they can when Rose Red, civil servant Snow White's wild-child sister, goes missing, leaving a bloody mess behind in her apartment. Bigby, once a scourge of civilization as the big bad wolf, is now a lawman of Fabletown and sets out to solve the mystery before it stirs up too many past grudges and tears their delicately maintained society apart.

Cheezy noir with semi-familiar personalities all tossed together for a somewhat fun, if a bit hokey, entry into a fairy tale-infested universe. Golly, it's been a long time since I read an American-style comic book á la Marvel or DC (the latter's Vertigo imprint, in this case). It'll take me a while to get reacquainted with the color palette and the drawing style, which are not my cup of tea, but I enjoyed aspects of the hammy, tongue-in-cheek story. Philandering playboy Prince Charming (ex of several of the leading ladies), irresponsible slacker Jack of Fables, Beauty and her Beast (in marriage counseling--again), and newly-engaged Bluebeard all make appearances this volume and help fill out this world of literary and cultural refugees. It'll be interesting to see who else shows up in the future and how well they do or do not fit our expectations from what we remember of their sources.