Science Fiction That Doesn't Involve the Predator!

I'm sure I've said this before, but, considering the amount that I drink and how rarely I write on this blog, maybe it needs restating-- We're living in a goddamn golden age of science fiction. I mean, that can be said of media, in general (with the possible exception of movies, which seem to be stuck in Saturday morning cartoon mode, but anyways. . .), but it can be said especially of science fiction comic books.

Between Low, East of West, Wild's End, and Prophet, the past few years have been very good for nerds like me. Foremost amongst those comic books though, is the Fionna Staples and Brian K. Vaughn vehicle Saga.

Just read that book. Go. Do it now if you haven't already. I mean, unless you're a kid, in which case, you should not be reading this comic. Or this blog. Go play Minecraft. What are you doing? Get out of here.

Man, Saga is really, really good.

Saga works because it seems to be having fun with the world that it has built. It's got magic, wooden space ships, and seal boys with giant axes. It's a silliness that also gives the book gravitas when it shifts gears into darker, uglier subjects. It's a back and forth that never feels out of place and never throws the reader off balance. It is a silly world where terrible things happen and despite the smart-ass liar cats, it's a world that reads as true.

What it doesn't take for granted or play around with is how seriously it takes its characters. There is a real care taken to how the characters interact with each other and how they sound and how they read. The same can be said of the art. Staples and Vaughn are knocking this book out of the park with every issue that they complete.

That is not to say that Saga is not an intensely silly book. Because it is. It's very silly. It's about kids and has an immense amount of sex in it. I could not think of two things more diametrically opposed that can bring the same amount of levity. Because, man, kids are pretty dumb and adults are even dumber.

Saga has a life to it that few other comics of any genre have, and I cannot wait until Volume 7 comes out in trade paperback. At the very least, it'll help me get through another miserable family holiday.

James Kislingbury is a writer and a podcast. You can read him on this dumb blog and you can listen to him here.

NEVER GET CAUGHT

Not Quite Like Pulling Teeth
Thoughts on Secret (2014).

Secret is one of those books I skipped reading in issues because I figured I was just going to get it in the trades. Manhattan Projects is one of the best books I've read in a long while (as far as super-science books go, I think Nowhere Men just barely edges it out). Considering the book's subject mattr, in addition to its pedigree, it seemed like a slam dunk. Having now finished it, having done some measure of meditation on the book, I kind of wish I had only bought the first issue instead.

And I am not entirely disappointed. Secret is a fine book. Perfectly fine, even. While I still really like Jonathan Hickman as a writer, this book feels sparse. In that way, it's less Manhattan Projects than it is Red Wing. It's an odd thing to accuse a Hickman book of being insubstantial. Overall it feels like a story that was sitting in Hickman's drawer for a couple of years until he became Mr. Crossover at Marvel. Good for him if he's got that kind of heat behind him. There's certainly less deserving creators out there and it's a hard enough trade, the comic's game, even within the halls of the Big Two.

On that same note Secret is fairly vapid. It isn't that it's dumb. I've read dumber books than Secret that don't move as quickly and as viciously as it does. The Programme is a book that is both dumb and slow. As a dressed-up genre book, it's doing something right. It's violent. It's mean. It's got twists. And that's about it.

When I approach some of the book's deeper meaning, I don't come away looking for more answers. I come away slightly more confused, as if the answer isn't even worth knowing. The artistic style leaps to mind.

The concept behind Michael Garland's color palette is my main stumbling block. In the book, it leaps from black and white to monochrome to sepia, with the odd splash of blood here and there. Think a collision of Sin City, Casanova, and, for flavor, the opening of The Big Red One.

Is it symbolic? Is it tonal? Is it just quirky? Am I an idiot? If so, why? Or is it just there as chaff to distract us all from the fact that there's basically nothing beneath the surface of this book? At least when Hickman did it (and I'm sure it was his idea, it almost has to be his idea) in Manhattan Projects there is a clear connection to either a character or a timeline. It works in conjunction with Nick Pitarra's art (also Jordie Bellaire, the fairy queen of coloring works on the book, which doesn't hurt). Here. . . I don't know it's just weird.

Other than that, the art is excellent.  Ryan Bodenheim does a fine job of differentiating characters and generally making Secret's world of office blocks and cubicles into something visually arresting. Or at least as visually arresting as those things can be. I'd be interested to see what Bodenheim does in the future and what he's done in the past. Even if this isn't the perfect project, his art carries the story along nicely. Then again, it'd have been nice to see some color thrown in there somewhere.

It's frustrating to not know how dumb or how smart it is. It's like Lost. Or The Leftovers. Is it me? Is it this dumb book? Both, maybe? Are you leaving us a mystery to solve or did you just plain forget to fill out the details? With Manhattan Projects there is no such doubt. And, hell, it isn't Hickman's experiment on SHIELD, whatever the hell that was supposed to be.

But it's Jonathan Hickman making an industrial espionage book with a fairly talented artist and I am perfectly okay with that.  It's also only $9.99, so who the hell am I to complain? Image drives a hard bargain. Just read Manhatattan Projects or Nowhere Men and let's call this whole thing a wash, okay? Or maybe Zero if you want some crazed ultraviolence. Or East of West.  

Hey, the world is your fucking oyster, okay? Go out there and read something.



James Kislingbury is a writer, podcaster, and an enemy of mankind. You can follow him on twitter.

I'd Hate to See The Union Busters

I'll be brief: You should read COWL #1.

As though engineered to anger my father, COWL tells the story of the world's first unionized superhero team.

Rather than using that idea as a set-up for some kind of reflexive, high-concept nonsense that floods the pages of Previews every month ("Hey, what if Batman was actually a vampire!?" and "Hey, what if Superman retired and got into cock fighting!?" they all said, choking on their own sick), COWL actually uses its concept to tell a story which, again, looking at the pages of Previews, actually is a kind of high concept in and of itself. . .

In short order, we're thrown into a familiar (but not too familiar) 1960's Chicago where we see a team of heroes closing out a case against a supervillain. It's a high concept deployed correctly and it's a story that feels new and different instead of playing off of a story we've seen a hundred times before (but with, I don't know, more drugs and uses of the c-word). If it's playing off anything, it's Mad Men and even that's only in the comic's set dressing.

It's the comic book that I didn't know I wanted. It's also mature in the proper sense of the word. Yeah, it has the murder and death, but so does Law and Order. By sprinkling in some sexism or brutality, writers Kyle Higgins and Alex Siegel are informing the world and the narrative, not just thumbing their nose at the Big Two's editorial policies. They aren't pushing buttons, they're creating a world.

Besides the sex and violence (and one delightful bit of public urination), it's also a book with a sense of humor. It also deals with complex relationships between people and it does so all in a very short amount of time. It's a fun book that smartly plays between the kind of "realism" we're used to seeing in superhero comic books post-1985 and the kind of fun that made us pick up comics in the first place.

And the art. . . Oh man, the art. You ever have that moment where you see an indie book that looks interesting and you pick it up to see what it's like inside and it looks like somebody who couldn't get work at DC? This isn't that.

As strong as the cover is, the interior is even better. Rod Reis' work looks like a comfortable mix between Bill Sienkiewctz and Phil Noto. It's a look that almost any book would be lucky to have and in this case, with this story, it feels a bit magical. Something special is going on in this first issue and I'm really excited for what the future might bring.

Go support good comics. Go support weird and new ones. Go read COWL.

Oh, and here's a free blurb: "COWL is Watchmen and The Wire meets FIST."

There. That blurby enough for ya?

FURTHERMORE:

There's a character called Arclight. And he flies. And I should have thought of it. But I didn't. And I hate it.

James Kislingbury writes comics and records podcasts. You can follow him on Twitter @kislingtwits.

Sex: It's What People Do

Author's Note: It's been pointed out to me that this has a lot of, shall we say, unfinished sentences? While I appreciate the effort I am well aware of my lack of a copy-editor that isn't my cat. The following is a second go at this article.

As discussed in a previously post, I went on a bit of a comic book buying binge. I blame Christmas. And my poor impulse control. And a lot of things.

Speaking of which, one of the comics I bought is Sex.

I don't know that I've ever read a Joe Casey comic before. There was a time when I wanted to pick up Butcher Baker the Righteous Maker, but since that violently imploded, I think I'll take the long way around to checking out that book. From my understanding Mr. Casey is a man who takes superheroes and pits them against situations that are completely opposed to superheroics or situations that are the ultimate conclusion of the superheroing business. (Trade? Practice?)

That's a fine way to go about things. It's also as much a part of the comic landscape as the straight stories about people in capes. He seems far less pleased with his ideas than a guy like Mark Millar does and he also seems far more talented than the kind of "But what if Batman was in real life!?' type of nonsense that pours out of the Preview pages.

Sex's particular take on superheroes is "What if Batman quit being Batman? Also, what if everyone in Gotham City was a sexual maniac? Also, what if costumes were a poorly explored metaphor about sexual dysfunction?" And then it goes from there. Kind of. In its defense it doesn't feel cheap or exploitative. Maybe it's because I'm so jaded and cynical, but I never batted an eye at the sexual content of the book.

Then again maybe that's also a problem. If I'm not batting an eye at the contents of a book that was sold with the tagline "IMAGE WANTS YOU TO BUY SEX" then maybe something has gone wrong somewhere along the lines.

Though, the boners and the tits are there. My reaction is sort of tempered by the fact that they are there and they are sticking up at you. If that's the sort of book you were looking for-- and I thought I was-- then Sex will deliver.

The main problem with the book is that as good looking as it is, it is listless. Appropriately listless considering the theme. Or one of the themes. I'm not sure I care to parse them out. Our main character is primarily defined by the fact that he doesn't do anything. He has a thrilling past and one full of trauma and psychological conclusion, yet we're stuck in the present with this white goofus who seems to have the acting range of an opium addled Keanu Reeves.

Like scenes like this? Well, don't get used to them.

Ennui isn't an emotion that moves stories forward. That's a lesson we never quite learned from the French.

This lack of drive carries over to Sex's world building. In works like Watchmen or The Winter Men or any number of other books in this vein we have fully realized worlds that are as much a part of the story as the characters or the dialogue. Batman has had 70 years to throw a world together, but as readers we know what Gotham City is. It's a place that is alive and that has real weight. As a writer Joe Casey is making an analogue of Gotham City without any of the texture of that city. In Sex we're treated to a lot of men in suits and skyscrapers. Saturn City doesn't feel like a real place and that's important if your main characters aren't exactly leaping off of the page.

As far as Sex's supporting characters, we have the Alpha Brothers (the world's one and only Sebastian O cosplay gang), The Old Man, Keenan, and this world's Catwoman stand in, each weaving in and out of each others' lives, trying to make a living in a world without Batman the Armored Saint. Yet, by the end of the trade the only thing that's changed in any of their lives is that Not Catwoman had to get glasses. Which she thinks makes her look old. Considering that Lisa Ann is the world's most popular porn star and she's known for dressing up like another well known MILF, I can't help but feel that Not Catwoman can't see the forest for the trees. You know. Literally in this case.

Plus the main character has a goatee and what the fuck is that in 2014?

Overall, though, the book is rather humorless. I mean. It's called Sex. I'm not looking for Benny Hill here, but if you're going to have superheroes standing around not being superheroes, at least make me smile. I mean, Lord almighty nobody is having fun in this book. I'll go watch Shame if I wanted that. (I don't.)

All in all I'm excited that Hayao Miyazaki is making comics again. I want to read something nice.



WELCOME TO THE AD GAUNTLET--

I came out with a comic book myself. It's called  Old College Comics Presents and it's pretty fucking exciting. The cover looks great. The paper stock is solid. Some of the words and drawings together are pretty decent, too. If you're not interested in picking up the new comic, we also have an old one (It's called The Freshman Fifteen. Get it?). Either way, who are you to resist?

(It seems our website hasn't been updated. . . Huh. That'll have to be resolved rather soon. . .)

I do a podcast with my actor friend Cruz Flores. It's called White Guys, Square Glasses. It is a title that is 75% accurate. If you like the kind of nonsense I've written in the above article you might like the kind of nonsense that falls out of my mouth on our show. It's about media and pop culture and rambling on about whatever catches our fancy. In short: It's a podcast. But it's one from me.

Dance, Dance, Dance: A Review of Dancer

Can I say that I'm a espionage thriller connesuer without sounding like an asshole?

What's that? Other people can, but not me? I gotcha. That's fair.

Who is Jake Ellis? is a fantastic book. It feels like the hybrid of a 1970's spy movie with the kind of USA TV show you would watch because you're too drunk to get off of the couch. It's pure entertainment wrapped in a high concept that manages to work. Instead of feeling like a gimick, it feels like a new kind of spy thriller. Dancer is what happens when that high concept fails.

In a way it should be a slam dunk. The doppleganger is a class film noir trope. Considering that this story takes place in Europe, that sort of connection with German expressionism and France's post-war fascination with the American genre films they missed out on, you have a very smart set of texts to play around with. Then you layer on something like Metal Gear Solid, which includes the same kind of plot device to get moving, Dancer should be an excellent. You look at all this and you think "Hey, this should be good, this should work."

And then it doesn't.

It doesn't work because I don't care. I won't go into what the concept is supposed to be as removing the surprise might smother what little life this story has in it. But it doesn't work because it's a silly idea, the reason this story doesn't work is that the plot and the characters are paper thin. So, while all of this action is going down and then there's the silly high concept waving to you in the background, reminding you of just how silly this entire story is. It's a refrain that I've been hearing a lot lately. In a way it's good to see that comic book

Oh, no, wait, it's the opposite of that.

Speaking of characters, though  the villain doesn't work and if the villain doesn't work in a story like this, then it's bad news for the reader. Bad news indeed.

Bond had Goldfinger and Jaws. Bourne had Chris Cooper and Brian Cox. What you got here? Some kind of half-assed Khan Noom Singh (or is this a half-assed Hannibal Lector)? Come now, really? It doesn't work in the same way that the rest of the book doesn't work. It never quite comes together, never quite gets out of first gear.

Then there's the ending, which without sounding like a smartass, is the best thing in the book, but it's exactly the same as every single one of the Bourne movies and, it's 2013, do we really need to be biting Bourne's style? Why would you ever want to draw comparison to those movies?

Dancer simply shows how great of a book Who is Jake Ellis? was and what a nice surprise that was. While the art works quite well, the story drags it down. It also reminds us that the best way to bite Jason Bourne's style is to make a fantastic movie. But not every story can be Casino Royale, can it?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to post this because it uses the word "dance" in it--

Prophet is the Tits

I don't know what you heard, but this comic book Prophet is the kipper's knickers.

It is a comic you should be reading.



Look at this splash and tell me that you are not curious.

The above splash page is the tone of the piece. It's about a displaced Conan who rides on a giant bug and sometimes is heavily involved in slime men and eating random bits of creatures he finds on his journey. It's as exciting as a comic can be and it is as completely mad as a thing can be without becoming nonsensical. It's great because for the past ten years or so comics have been immensely concerned with this concept of realism at the detriment of good ideas. Just look at the amount of stitches and seams that have appeared on the costumes of super-heroes lately and think about how creative those sartorially inclined heroes have become.

Prophet, for a relaunch of one of the most infamous comic creators of the 90's, strikes me as an old fashioned way of making comic books. A few months ago I read the original run of OMAC and my friend Beef was recently talking to me about reading Kamandi for the first time and we both basically agreed that as wonderful and as ecstatic of a writer/artist/creator as Jack Kirby was, he was as unhinged and as all over the place as a comic maker could be. This current run of Prophet, I feel takes the best aspects of Kirby's energy and makes it into something modern and wonderful.

I'll get back to that in a moment, but first I want to denigrate comics as they are now. It'll be more fun this way.

Instead of using an issue to go over the various ins and outs of the Avengers going over the new psychological problems of Norman Osbourn for five years or how they should maybe buy a new shelf from Ikea, this comic book has a giant battle involving alien elephants. Then it moves on. Because it can. It can afford to throw those things away and because there's so many of them and there's a story that can wrap it all together in a nice, little package. It's an exuberant comic book.

The art is pretty great, as well. It should go without saying, but it's pretty important that a book as nuts as this not look like hell. It's important that the ideas look as awesome as they are on the page. In this case it does. Simon Roy has knocked the hell out of the crazy plate of junk that King has handed him. It's great looking and it is great to the point that it makes me want to double-down on my own art. I won't ever get to the point that Roy is at, but. . . man, making aspirational art is a serious endeavor. It's a sign of something.

As you can tell the art style simple and cartoony and that somehow melds well with the subject matter. At the very least it's an excellent way to separate it from the muscled madness of previous Prophet. I've been following the work of Simon Roy for a while and I've always liked his stuff. It's cool that his art has shown up in a work that interests me this much. Overall it's a nice melding of a kind of serious art style with a fun and representative style. It's exactly what Jack Kirby would have been pleased to see.
















But I'm babbling.

As we speak I'm fairly certain that the new arc of this comic has come out with a new artist, as well (same writer, though). I've wasted my time here and I've wasted the little time I did put to any use. The point here is you should read Prophet.

It's a good comic. Good comics deserve love, too.

The fact that I'm saying this about a Rob Liefeld production should speak enough to its quality.

Un Phrophet

It's basically science fiction Conan if both the science fiction and Conan did some acid and then got thrown into a cock fight and then all of that was boiled down into some sort of an unction. Yeah. That's exactly what this is. Prophet is a fun comic. Whenever I encounter a book I basically come back to the same non-thought which is: This is what comics are supposed to be.

For whatever that's worth, it's a recommendation.

Actually, I take some of what I said back-- It isn't a totally insane book. Orc Stain is a totally insane book. As I understand it Tale of Sand is also an extra in Shock Corridor, but this book is actually completely straight forward. In its art, in its telling, it is stellar from start to finish. It's clean, it's coherent, and it's a lot of fun. So, you know what, yeah-- This is what comics are supposed to be.

On a meta-level, though, it doesn't make any real sense that this book exists. First off, it's also total fucking insanity that this issue is given the number #21. Prophet, as a book, hasn't existed in about twenty years. I imagine it got cancelled for a reason and I imagine I've never heard of it for more or less the same reason.

In terms of counter-programming against DC's complete re-numbering across the line it still seems crazy. It all seems crazy. What remains the craziest fact of all-- the craziest fact ahead of all else, ruling over the rest of the crazy facts from a throne made out of discarded phone books and cat droppings-- is that this is a Rob Liefeld creation and it's good. It's really fucking good.

There's nothing about that should work. This book is fun and, so far, it works as more than a pleasant surprise. Go ahead and pick it up. The second printing is out now. If you don't like it, then fuck you. I don't know what to tell you. Get your head out of your ass, maybe. You slimeball.