- Stephen on Doom Patrol vol 1.

'Are you thinking of staying on after your Work Experience?'

- Courtney, a wag of a customer, on Mark's cack-handed service, Thursday early morning 14/09/04. ;)

n e w b o o k s

Persepolis 2: The Story Of A Return (£12-99 Jonathan Cape) by Marjane Satrapi.

It's book of the year time from the Stephen L. Holland Prematurely Positive Poll, and once again, it goes to PERSEPOLIS. Why? It's an autobiography full of vitality, bursting with truth, and laced throughout with a wisdom and perspective that can only come through hard-won experience - and not so commonly even then. There's also a life drawing class which is hysterical, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

At the end of the first volume, Marjane Satrapi, aged fifteen, was sent by her parents on a plane to Vienna, in order that she might thrive outside the confines of an Iran both at war with Iraq, and, following the Islamic Revolution, under the thrall of a fundamentalist regime. 'I couldn't just go. I turned around to see them one last time.' The very last panel shows her mother passing out with grief. 'It would have been better to just go.'

'What happened next?' was the question which had been tearing at me ever since the book came out last year.

The answer is not at all what I was expecting, nor, necessarily was Marjane herself. In fact, one of the most engaging aspects to this book is that Satrapi does not set herself up as a saint. She's judgemental, self-righteous, and a bit of a prig to begin with. In fact a bit of a prig for a while. Until she finally gets a boyfriend and...

'Markus was so proud of me. So proud that he told the whole school that his girlfriend had contacts at Cafe Camera. This is how, for love, I began my career as a drug dealer. Hadn't I followed my mother's advice? To give the best of myself? I was no longer a simple junkie, but my school's official dealer.'

So no, not a predictable trajectory.

The book opens at her new school in Austria, where Marjane effortlessly - but without self-pity - evokes the loneliness of being separated from the comfort of family, and thrown into a boarding environment where the language is alien and friendships have already formed since the trimester has already begun. This, following the rejection of her supposed adoptive family. But there's also a newfound freedom to be enjoyed, both personal and commercial in the form of supermarkets, and fortunately, through her caricatures (which I myself found as good a way of winning popularity as being a clown), she makes two friends who serve her very well: German-speaking Lucia, and French bohemian Julie. The first solves the problem of what to do when everyone disperses for their Christmas holiday (she's invited to Lucia's parents in south-west Austria), the second introduces her to other outsiders including a pompous twat of an anarchist punk called Momo. She's also resourceful herself, sensibly using her downtime to study rather than brood:

'I then turned my attention to Sartre, my comrades' favourite author.

''The notion of consciousness comes from man's lived experience.'

'I found him a little annoying.'

I'm not going to tell you how she ends up on the streets, because that's going to spoil so much for you, but I will say that before too long she winds up back in Iran (like I said, not a predictable trajectory), where she must come to terms with her profound sense of failure, readjust to having to cover herself up completely, and watch that she doesn't fall foul of the authorities in so many ways. Women are not allowed to be seen with men in public unless they are husband and wife, which causes real difficulty when wanting to spend time with her new fiancé (but if you think being out proves difficult, try being 'out'), and - something I didn't know - you even have to take an Ideological Test, a proof of your moral rectitude and religious propriety, in order to enter university at all. As in the first book, Satrapi successfully persuades you of the clear and present dangers involved in any transgression - including summary execution (see being 'out') - as well as the morally bankrupt hypocrisy of being able to buy your way out of less serious trouble if caught. And it's all so superficial but thoroughly effective:

'The regime had understood that one person leaving her house while asking herself:

'Are my trousers long enough?' 'Is my veil in place?' 'Can my make-up be seen?' 'Are they going to whip me?'

'No longer asks herself: 'Where is my freedom to thought?' 'Where is my freedom of speech?' 'My life, is it liveable?' 'What's going on in the political prisons?'

'It's only natural! When we're afraid, we lose all sense of analysis and reflection. Our fear paralyses us.'

I forgot to mention the legacy of the war, over by the time Marjane returned. Tens of thousands of political prisoners were executed by the state for fear of a rebellion if freed by insurgents, and hundreds of thousands were killed and left limbless, including one of her childhood friends, now restricted to a wheelchair, but armed with affection and humour:

'That day, I learned something essential: we can only feel sorry for ourselves when our misfortunes are still supportable... Once this limit is crossed, the only way to bear the unbearable is to laugh at it.'

The book is full of these pithy observations ('When you see your parents rarely, all is forgiven.'), including in Vienna her early exploration of identity through haircuts and clothes, and the dishonesty yet draw of teenage conformity within a set group of friends. I could also relate to her shock at being offered a cigarette for the first time by her mother, a sign I recognised myself at the time as an early mark of adulthood. In fact I've another three pages of notes down here, which of course I can't read, so you can trust me when I tell you that there's so much more to discover in this book which took me a whole afternoon to enjoy. I haven't even told you how it ends.

As to that life drawing scene, I'll try to get that up on the website as soon as I can, because it's a wonderful absurdity as the class is confronted with a model from whom they can learn absolutely nothing, draped as she is from head to food in thick, black robes. 'We nevertheless learned to draw drapes.'

So there we go, my book of the year, a first-hand witness to the hypocrisy of the timid and the terror of the state, but overwhelmingly a testament to the kindness of strangers, the bravery of the individual, and the love of a caring family. And that's more than enough for me.

Why I Hate Saturn new printing (£11-99 DC Vertigo) by Kyle Baker. Anne and Rick are in a bar. She's actually very pretty, and he's kinda handsome in a 'you just know he has a cool record collection' sort of a way. And who in a bar can resist checking out the other drinkers? Anne speaks first:

'Look at them! The fools! Thick necked desk jockeys and ninety-pound Barbies! Look at them laugh! Blissfully ignorant of their own uselessness!'

'Yeah, they are pretty fake.'

'God, I wish I were one of them.'

'Wait, the one in the red just dropped her napkin.'

'You know, there's nothing like a festive atmosphere to depress the hell out of me.'

'Lighten up, Anne. I've never heard anyone complain so much in spite of the fact that she's got no real problems.'

'I've got problems.'

'I've never heard that said with so much pride before.'

''It's pretty crowded by the bar, Rick. Maybe you could cop a cheap feel.'

'I'm serious, Anne. You've got to stop. You're young, talented, and pretty, and too insecure to realise how young, talented and pretty you are. Which, in a way, is good, because if you ever did realise how young, talented and pretty you are, you'd be insufferable.'

'Well, at least I'm not insufferable. Balloons! They've got balloons here!'

'Calm down. Save something for the drinking.'

'I can't help it! Look! We've died and gone to mall!'

'Look, if it bothers you so much, why do we eat here?'

'Because Mexican restaurants are the only place you can drink abusively with your meal and not look like a lush, Frank.'

'That's another thing. Stop calling me 'Frank'. That's about the eighth time tonight.'

'Sorry.'

'It's pitiful. I mean, Frank left you six months ago. It's way too long to still be calling people 'Frank'. I bet you're still writing 1988 on your checks.'

'I don't have a checking account, you know that. Anyway, Frank broke my heart.'

'You didn't even like him.'

'So?'

'Anne, really, you gotta snap out of it. Get another boyfriend already.'

'Right. Where?'

'For instance, that guy in the green jacket has been staring at you.'

'Where?'

'Behind you. He's hypnotised.'

'Is he cute?'

'Turn around, I think he's drooling.'

'That's okay, I can see him in the mirror. Hey, he's pretty cute.'

'So, go talk to him.'

'What if he doesn't like me?'

'Look, Anne, if you're too shy to talk to him, you can at least smile at the guy, let him know you're interested.'

'I guess.'

'You guess.'

'Well, I mean, what if I smile at him, and then he comes over here, right?'

'Yeah?'

'So then we get to talking, and it turns out I don't like him. I'll be in the position of having to turn him down after I'm the one who led him on in the first place! I'd look like a cock tease!'

'Wow, Anne, you're really screwed up.'

'Glad you like it.'

Have you ordered your copy yet? Because there are two hundred pages of this nimble, almost musical dialogue, all wrapped in some of the most luscious art I've ever seen, with sleek lines, perfect blacks and a light, sandy wash. Anne's the star (and I can relate, apart from the bit about being young, talented and pretty - but, hey, at least I'm insufferable). She's a journalist, a drinker, and her sister's coming to come and stay. Her sister honestly believes she's the Queen of the Leather Astro-Girls of Saturn, and she's about to get Anne into several shades of crazy.

Doom Patrol vol 1: Crawling From The Wreckage new printing (£12-99 DC Vertigo) by Grant Morrison & Richard Case.

'What do normal people have in their lives?'

'What?'

'What do normal people have?'

'You're asking the wrong person.'

'I've tried to be like them, I really have. But what happens when you just can't be strong anymore? What happens if you're weak? My painting's ruined. Everything's gone wrong.'

Not yet, it hasn't.

'Come in out of the rain.'

Welcome to the half-life of the Doom Patrol, who, under Grant Morrison, each pull themselves back from the brink of insanity in order to deal with madness. Ignore the introduction from ten years ago, it will only distract you. Stick to the material itself, packed full of sharp observations, like the urban catechism of subway stations which you grow to know by heart, and recite as you pass them by. And if you think that because this is relatively early Grant Morrison you're going to be let off the hook, think again, for here be memetic theory and metatexts, and the wonderful Scissormen, black and scarlet empty people bearing very large blades, reducing human beings to blank stencils in the air, and the English language to a series of cryptic crosswords:

'Defeating breadfruit in adumbrate.'

'The leaching will be novelistic for effacement! Curdle your pilgrimage! Curdle your pilgrimage!'

You could try to translate them (and I've a vague memory that I did some thirteen years ago - try, I mean), but that would be like attempting to decipher what Liz Fraser's singing on the early Cocteau Twins tracks: pointless (she used her voice like a mellifluous musical instrument rather than worry her head with real words). This is superheroes for clever people. Not superheroes for naughty people (ULTIMATES), cynics (SUPREME POWER) or degenerates (BRATPACK) - and I love all three - but superheroes for clever people, because you just wait for the next volume featuring the Brotherhood of Dada and the Painting That Ate Paris!

In the meantime meet the continually bewildered Cliff, a poor soul trapped in a metal body whose physical senses pale in comparison what he was used to, leaving him lingering in a virtual isolation tank where he can only remember what it felt like to touch. Greet Crazy Jane (several times), whose disassociation following childhood abuse has left her splintered into 64 unique personalities, each with their own metahuman talent. And frown in perplexity as Rebis reminds you that he/she/it is no longer Larry, but a composite being made from white male Larry Trainor, black female Dr. Eleanor Poole and a negative flying spirit that glows green on black. Led by driven but callous paraplegic Professor Caulder, they are, for the moment, the Doom Patrol, and their heads will hurt as much as yours. What this book won't do is bog you down like THE INVISIBLES, for this is more like a water park ride where once you start you cannot stop, and, scream as you might, you just have to lie back and enjoy the rapids' ride.

Grampa And Julie: Shark Hunters (£9-99, Topshelf) by Jef Czekaj - Grampa & Julie are the best shark-hunters in the world and this time they're after Stephen, the largest shark in the world. Their journey takes them to the moon and the desert and they meet a squirrel and a chicken who rap. Oh, and Stephen's mother.

'If you're looking for fresh, imaginative storytelling along with delightfully offbeat humor, just set sail with Jef Czekaj's Grampa and Julie: Shark Hunters. The stylish art is a perfect vehicle for this freewheeling tale, which never met an outrageously improbable plot turn it didn't like. The jokes fly fast and furious, and the adventures never fail to defy any and all predictions. A joy from first page to last.' -- Mark Crilley, Akiko

Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life vol 1 (£7-99, Oni Press) by Bryan Lee O'Malley - 'Scott Pilgrim's life is so awesome. He's 23 years old, in a rock band, 'between jobs', and dating a cute high school girl. Everything's fantastic until a seriously mind-blowing, dangerously fashionable, rollerblading delivery girl named Ramona Flowers starts cruising through his dreams and sailing by him at parties. But the path to Ms Flowers isn't covered in rose petals. Ramona's seven evil ex-boyfriends stand in the way between Scott and true happiness. Can Scott beat the bad guys and get the girl without turning his precious life upside-down?' Aren't we forgetting that he also has a cute high school girl in-between him and true happiness? Or are we thinking that he's going to be bad and try to juggle the two relationships at the same time? Bad, bad, bad Scott. But the book's rather good. Actually it's great in that throwaway way that we need from time to time. Both Tom & I think that it's like a lot of the Tokyopop lurve book but with more story and more laughs. All his friends are well thought out, the band is truly awful but he looks good with the guitar.

O'Malley is obviously having fun drawing all of this and the sense of fun is contagious. He's like a cute little Paul Pope. Awwww! Cute! There's a second book slated for February of next year so you have plenty of time to get in on the ground floor and boast that you were there from the start.

The Day I Swapped My Dad For Two Goldfish CD edition (£10-99 Harper Collins) by Neil Gaiman & Dave McKean. On the CD Neil reads the story. Under the new cover, Neil writes:

'This book started like this.

'My son, who is called Michael or Mike these days, but was Mikey back then, was angry at me. I'd said one of those things that parents say, like 'isn't it time you were in bed,' and he had looked up at me, furious, and said, 'I wish I didn't have a dad! I wish I had...' and then he stopped and thought, trying to think of what one could have instead of a father. Finally he said, 'I wish I had a goldfish!'

'And then he stomped off to bed.'

In the book itself, perhaps McKean's most charming book to date, a mother comes home to find her son has swapped his Dad for two goldfish. She isn't best pleased. So she sends the young man and his pestering sister back to his mate Nathan's house to retrieve their father, only Nathan's already gone and swapped him for a guitar. Indeed retrieving Dad turns into a succession of 'just too lates' because no one wants to hang on to him. 'Well, he wasn't very exciting. All he did was read the paper.'

This is the first children's book that should have a 'Parental Guidance' sticker slapped on it. As a description, rather than a warning.

1602 (£12-99, Marvel) by Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert and Richard Isanove ~ When this was serialised in comics I wasn't just sceptical, I was a snob. I didn't even give it a second look, uttering something along the lines of 'oh Neil's' gone to marvel. What a sell out'. I don't know why I acted this way, maybe I was scared the enigmatic writing which captured my imagination in the pages of Sandman, would be somehow watered down at the 'House of Ideas'. After all many would say Ennis never reached the same heights with Punisher as he did with Preacher, although that's debatable, and slightly off topic. From what I could gather, at the time, this was a huge team up title set in the 1700s'. Team up, I'm allergic to that phrase, it conjures up garish flashbacks of overcrowded continuity headaches from the 80's. And the hype, don't believe the hype. If someone says 'Groundbreaking!' or 'Earth Shattering!!' my mouth sneers automatically. I can't control it. I ran a mile. But I'm back now, I realise I'm a bad person with a problem and I'm very sorry.

As with all of Gaiman's' books there is an awful lot going on. It's the twilight of the Elizabethan era. The queens' physician Stephen Strange and spy master sir Nicholas have kept her majesty alive long past her natural life and her people safe from influences such as the Inquisition and King James of Scotland. The successor to the throne. But for how long can they alone keep the wolves from her door? And what's with all this strange weather we're having?

In the hands of anyone else it would have been a total mess, just look at me trying to describe the plot! With Neil at the helm however you have his trademark epic, writing where everything sounds incredibly important, coupled with the cheap fanboy thrills of trying to figure out who's who. I didn't clock who some of the characters were meant to be until the end. There are still some I'm trying to workout. So much fun.

Essentially this is Neil doing Marvel, not the other way around. That's why it works.

Flight (£12-99, Image) by various - ' It began with a small idea to combine the work of several friends and compile them in printed form to sell at the 2004 Alternative Press Expo. Since then, the project quickly gained momentum and we were able to bring aboard a large crew of very talented up-and-coming comics talents to contribute to this project as well. The roster includes notable storytellers in the field of animation to the work of international super-talents and some of the best comics artists on the web.' Beautiful collection of full colour stories circling around flight, influenced by the films of Hayao Miyazaki. Kazuo Kibuishi begins the take-off with a boy and his dog building a plane, missing pieces and gently charming me with the lost spirit of Calvin & Hobbes. Jen Wang adds a touch of collage, bits of exotic paper and handwritten notes like Souther Salazar gone manga. There's quite a bit of manga influence here but that's part and parcel of the online comics crowd. Not sure why it is, maybe it's just something we'll be seeing a lot more of in the coming years. Derek Kirk Kim, a rising star whose SAME DIFFERENCE is turning into a big seller here, pits a cute hairslide girl against mythical creature in 'The Maiden & The River Spirit'. Excellent contrast between the eerie gaze of the spirit and the sassiness of the girl. Nice twist too. Buy it for yourself, put it away until christmas and then get it out on boxing day. Should go well with mince pies.

In The Shadow Of No Towers (£20-00, Penguin Viking) by Art Spiegelman - You might have seen excerpts in either the Comics Journal or McSweeney's 13. I think that the Guardian ran a few pages a while ago. This is Spiegelman's reaction to the attack on the twin towers, American reaction to that and the government's reaction to the whole thing. Ten huge pieces, aping old Sunday comics sections, printed on thick card like baby's first book. The scale is correct, the book, with the black cover, spot varnish and illo of ancient American comic characters kicked sideways by a foreign goat, is huge. The format works, carefully spelling out the events of the day a scary kids' book for adults.

Prism Comics 2004 (£3-50 Prism Comics) by many. Subtitled 'Your LGBT Guide to Comics', this neat little resource book does precisely what it says plus a little bit more - although now that I come to typing this I'm having trouble finding out what LGBT stands for. Lesbian and Gay for sure. Bisexual? Transsexual? We'll come back to the resource bit in a second, because the reason this is up here rather than at the bottom of the book section, is that it's not just an extensive reference book for those wanting to track down all they hold queer in comics (non-comics stuff usually goes to the end of the section), there are also fifty pages of exclusive comicbook material from the likes of Donna Barr (DESERT PEACH), Leanne Franson (LILIANE) and Eric Shanower (AGE OF BRONZE), including Tim Fish's surprisingly harsh 'It's My Duty' in which a guy frightened of losing his boyfriend when said boyfriend returns for a tour of duty in the US Navy, outs him to his superiors by sending them a copy of a gay magazine in which they're both pictured cavorting around, topless, in a nightclub. Well, I say harsh, but actually I thought the ending was a little careless considering the possible repercussions. Then there's the sort of bondage soft porn you'd expect to see at Avatar - only without the chicks - and some one-page strips on marriage law from Kris Dresden, whose deft punchline involves a chicken wing. Back to the guide bit, and there's a listing of notable creators who are either gay themselves or prepared to push the envelope in diversity's favour (missing Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman, although there's an interview with José Villarubia about his collaboration with Alan on the beautiful MIRROR OF LOVE hardcover, and Neil's 1602 is referenced in...) a Year In Review, picking out all the same-sex bits said creators have somehow smuggled into the coy world of corporate superheroes, an interview with Phil Jimenez (artist on, amongst other things, Grant Morrison's NEW X-MEN) about his imminent OTHERWORLD series from Vertigo, another with Alison Bechdel (DYKES TO WATCH OUT FOR), a webcomic guide, and finally a website guide (there's a gay and lesbian roleplaying association!). Prism's President Charles 'zan' Christensen wrote to me a while ago, and I promised to provide a web address because they cover a lot of this and more on-line at www.prismcomics.org But then he offered to provide a link to us in return, and I can't see one. Perhaps we're not gay enough. Time to sling on that sleeveless Midnighter t-shirt again.

B.P.R.D.: The Soul Of Venice & Other Stories (£12-99 Titan) by Mike Mignola & various. The Hellboy entourage go it alone with the help of some guest writers and artists (Guy Davis, Oeming etc.), investigating 'a haunted train, more Nazi war criminals, the vengeful spirits of drowned witches, and an imprisoned sewer goddess'. Which pantheon did she belong to?

Hellblazer: Setting Sun (£8-50 DC Vertigo) by Warren Ellis & Bradstreet, Teran, Pulido, Romberger, Frusin. 'Ah, Chas... I tell you, mate, there's nothing like telling tales. That's all this game is, mate. That's why it works on people. Magic and a little bit of bullshit in the night, and they all fall in love with it.' A five-act Grand Guignol of grisly horror, sharp psychology and terse words/tough love from our John the con. Some really gorgeous art from Tim Bradstreet, and some suitable grim graft from Teran, in which a lonely old goblin of a man has hacked to death so many people that he's spiritually scarred the room. Inspector Watford (see previous Ellis HELLBLAZER) calls in a favour, sending Constantine into the room which has already made two sound policemen kill each other in a frenzy of bloodlust. He deals with it, after his own fashion. 'Never fucking call me again.'

Smax h/c (£12-99 DC ABC) by Alan Moore & Zander Cannon. Some days I like this, some days I don't. Alan Moore uses two of his troops in TOP TEN to remind us all that fairy tales weren't all sweetness and light, but come from a rather darker tradition. Today I like it, because I've just slipped back in for a bit of the dialogue, and seen more wit than I remembered, as Smax tries to tell Robyn that he's been intimate with his sister for years, and that's fairly standard in the dimension he's from. Co-stars a singing, sentient sword, and recommended to Tolkein fans - amongst others.

Club Zero-G (£12-99) by Douglas Rushkoff & Steph Dumais. Trite, didactic and very, very ugly. Douglas Rushkoff is not a stupid man; the journalism I've read is eloquent and shrewd. This just goes to show that 'real' writers (novelists, journalists, screenplay monkeys), the corporations' holy grail, aren't necessarily what comics need. They can be, but they also fuck up, and I can only assume that Douglas decided comics were only read by sixth formers, riddled with acid and spraying graffiti 24/7. Through a series of dreams the protagonist meets up with friends from his waking life - and even enemies, who, freed from their neuroses, turn out to be warm-hearted - and battles the evil forces of conformity. We no longer have any, but my sincerest suggestion if you happen to stumble upon a copy in another comics shop, comes as a three-part instruction: isolate, immolate, then defenestrate the ashes.

Tommysaurus Rex (£7-99 Image) by Doug TenNapel. What an unexpectedly moving little book. I am, I concede, quite easy to reduce if not to tears then at least to swallowing hard in a bid to stave off such embarrassing soppiness. However, pets are going to hit me where it hurts, particularly if the pet gets hurt, and sure enough within the first few pages young Ely's dog lies six feet under. To try to mitigate his son's distress, Dad sends Ely to go and stay on his grandfather's farm ('I thought you said I was to young to go work for Grandpa!' 'When a boy loses his dog he gets a lot older,' replies the Dad with perception), where Ely stumbles first upon a bully and then upon a living, breathing and improbably cute T-Rex, drawn in beautiful Bill Watterson fashion. Unexpectedly the beast is both loyal, playful and stupid, but petrified of fire, and there's a great sequence later on involving real or genetic memory, depending on where you think the T-Rex came from, in which fire sends Tommy (oh yeah, Ely named him after his late dog) into another blind frenzy and you see what it sees: flaming meteors and lava. It's a coming of age story at heart, in which Ely learns the painful extent to which a pet may prove both tenacious and loyal (those last dozen pages really put me through the wringer - such a big girl's blouse!), plus the nature and power and value of forgiveness. The bully's well evoked: he really pisses you off, then you begin to understand why he does what he does... and then he pisses you off even further. There's a cameo by Ray Harryhausen (he of stop motion fame), and those final forest fire scenes are nothing short of blistering, particularly the light on the big lizard's form. Jeff Smith, creator of BONE gives this a big thumbs-up (he appears to be a big girl's blouse as well, bless him), as does Guillermo del Toro. And now me. {Doug was also the creator of EARTHWORM JIM. I only put the two together the other day - ed}

A Jimmy Dydo Adventure (£3-50 Blindwolf Studios) by Art Baltazar. Endearing art in a James Kochalka way, belies a story of no consequence at all. Tufty shadow creature finds a friend, makes an enemy, discovers he's from outer space. Art does PATRICK THE WOLF.

School Bites vol 1 (£8-50 Broadsword) by Holly Golightly. Bauhaus-referencing, manga-influenced Tweeny Goth title (and the manga influenced creeps as far in as the introductory chat-ette), but not to be confused with Junko Mizuno's craft. Lots of pink, and the villain's called Dante Le Bon.

Scary Godmother: Spooktacular Stories (£6-50 Sirius) by Jill Thompson. All the trappings of the crave of the grave titles, but with whimsy that's witty and design that's divine. Only problem is that it's a genuine all-ages title, rather than one deliberately seeking to undermine them, so its sales are slim compared even to the above. I won't be disheartened, though, because Jill's exuberance makes that impossible, so here are the HOLIDAY SPOOKTACULAR, the ACTIVITY BOOK, the SUMMER PREVIEW and VALENTINE'S SPECIAL, with all their child-friendly puns and Addams Family reversals, and a particularly sweet tale of rekindled affection between boy-vampire Orson's normally romantic parents, Ruby and Max, the former more modern, the latter stuck in a rut of traditionalist vampire values. The activity book boasts handcrafts, recipes, mazes, crossword puzzles, word games, and encouragement and instructions on making comics. A superb Christmas present for the younger generation, and a real heartwarmer for us pension-aged children.

Shockrockets: We Have Ignition (£9-99, Dark Horse) by Kurt Busiek, Stuart Immonen. Looking at the cover by all-new, all-improved Immonen (and he did go up a notch during SUPERMAN: SECRET IDENTITY, finding his own, personal flair), your immediate impression is 'Boys' Own'. And it's a perfectly targeted cover too. This is sci-fi Top Gun for young teenagers, wherein a bright young lad joins by accident an elite squadron of aerial fighters built from alien technology, and finds he fuses far more comfortably with his ship's controls than anyone else before him. Just as well, as earth's previous saviour is about to embark on a massive coup de monde. Immonen was already an attractive artist, and propels the story along for a bright and breezy ride.

Amazing Spider-Man vol 7: The Book Of Ezekiel (£8-50 Marvel) by Straczynski & Romita Jr.. Ah, yes, the truth about Ezekiel and the spider-totem-thingummy. Well quite, but the art is splendid, and includes my houseguest Gemma's worst nightmare: a humungous monster made out of spiders. Even I might shy away from helping that out of the bath.

New X-Men h/c vol 3 (£19-99 Marvel) by Grant Morrison & Chris Bachalo, Phil Jimenez, Marc Silvestri. The last three softcovers (5, 6, 7) of Morrison's run under one oversized roof. Unusually there's less useful extra material, certainly less of the illuminating original script, than in volume 7 of the softcovers. Still, works very well as a single volume, the three story arcs flowing into each other as they do with increasingly catastrophic results.

Essential Super-Villain Team-Up (£10-99 Marvel) by many. All manner of 1970s over-the-toppistry in which Doctor Von Doom manipulates, betrays and takes tea and cake with the likes of the scarlet-noggined Nazi, Red Skull, purple-helmeted master of monologue, Magneto, and Namor the Submariner here seen wearing his Village People blue-and-gold latex look. Quality dialogue too. 'Look you, Tiger Shark,' gloats Attuma in broadest Welsh. 'Look! Namor! The 'Avenging Son' -- bested! And his anger avails him naught!' Just remember that kids, your anger won't no never avail you but naught. I think it's all that seawater - plays havoc with your Shakespearian. But he's right, Namor does have a temper on him. 'Arrogant tyrant! Perhaps mine was the same kind of debilitating rage which has left you humbled time and again by the Fantastic Four!' 'WHAT? You dare...!!' 'Yes, I dare! I am Namor, The Avenging Son!' He is, you know. Can you imagine those two preparing a three-course meal to sit down to? That's the sort of thing I'd have liked to see them join forces over - a sort of Supervillain rehabilitation title, but it wouldn't be without its ups and downs:

'Despicable land-dweller, I will not abide anchovies in my terrine!'

'Bah! Only a limp-finned, fishfaced frou-frou would term it a terrine! To one such as Doom is the pâté of power -- and it will have ANCHOVIES!'

Anyway, you also get the Perez AVENGERS and CHAMPIONS issues that tied in with this series, plus some earlier ASTONISHING TALES and several appearances by the cursed Richards. Hands up who wants me to be writing the Marvel relaunch?

Essential Iron Fist vol 1 (£10-99 Marvel) by Chris Claremont, various & John Byrne, various. No really, they're such easy targets, and I get two in one month. Did you wonder what I meant in the preview about the second person singular narrative? This is voice-over with a brief burst of monologue in the middle:

'Instinct -- sudden, blindingly fast, your body reacting before your mind has shifted into gear... after all it's not every day a good friend tries to murder you. And then, there isn't even time to react, as the world twists around and thru you... and everything flips out at once.

''God of us all -- what's happening TO MY MIND?!'

'Only one constant remains --- Colleen Wing still wants you dead... and in that first moment of blind panic, she almost pulls it off. But the moment passes, your mind frantically reorientating itself, telling you where you've experienced this before, telling you what it is! MINDSTORM! Born of the psychic screams of one David Angar, revolutionary-turned-uncommon-criminal... a twisting of reality and perception wherein all of man's senses lie and lie again, until nothing makes sense anymore... Up is down is right is left is up is in is down is out is on and on and on until the mind can stand no more.'

And on that note... Includes the MARVEL PREMIERE appearances, the 15-issue IRON FIST run, some MARVEL TEAM-UPS, the last POWERMAN and the first POWERMAN & IRON FIST (#50). Things to note: the IRON FIST run introduced Sabretooth then guest-starred the X-Men just after that outer space crystal affair around #109, hence Wolverine's bizarre outfit with the bone necklace.

Batman: Death & The Maidens (£12-99 DC) by Greg Rucka & Klaus Janson. Long-winded swansong for one of Batman's most long-lived foes, in which the baton is finally passed down to not one but both his daughters. You only thought Ra's al Ghul had only one? Nyssa's been around a couple of centuries herself, and suffered her children's rape, torture and death, been abandoned by Ra's in a Nazi concentration camp, but failed in her previous attempts to exact revenge. Meanwhile Ra's himself is aging rapidly without the restorative benefits of his Lazarus Pits, which Batman's been closing down one by one. Can Bruce be persuaded to give up the location of the single surviving Pit in exchange for a meeting with this dead parents? And if the meeting is real, will they approve of their son's dark lifestyle? Klaus Janson provides a commentary for several missing pages of pencils in the back, some of which had been reworked, some discarded, some forgotten in a drawer somewhere. For this was originally supposed to be a four-parter of 48-pages each rather than a standard-sized mini-series, and do you know what? You can tell. It feels reworked, and slightly disjointed. Key material for long-term Batman fans, though.

Silent Hill: Dying Inside (£12-99 IDW) by Scott Ciencin & Ben Templesmith, Aadi Salman. Bludgeoned nurses, elusive, sinister children and packs of live ammo left inexplicably behind domestic refuse bins; bewildered strangers, rabid dogs and stuff that drips from the wall. That's my neighbourhood, anyway. It's also a list of standard ingredients found in the Silent Hill series of console games. Ben Templesmith provides the requisite mist and ambience (though an Aphex Twin CD alternating with the dubbed recording of a police siren, slowed down by a factor of 50 wouldn't hurt), and you probably couldn't find a more appropriate artist... as his replacement, Aadi, will ably demonstrate on the second two-thirds of the book. What's the plot? How would I know? I'm not sure I ever fully understood the games' various scenarios. However, as with the original source, there are several alternate endings:

Read the book through once, save it on the shelf, then open again. Proceed to page 85 and instead of reading the incantation in the book provided, pick up the lighter at the bottom of the second panel and set fire to the comic. If you want to see the 'House in Ashes' scenario, quit the room immediately and make your way to the local pub. If you want to see the 'Ambulance Speeding through Congestion' scenario, wait until the 'Time for a New Carpet' sequence kicks in, then attempt to put the combined items out with your bare hands. (As a special bonus there'll then be a 'Four Month Waiting List' feature ready to unfold, complete with a Wonky Diagnosis mini-game. Oh, if only this weren't so true.)

Real Life (£16-99 Starline Multimedia) by Greg Dean. Possibly the most misleading title of the year. More webcomics, and another soul misguided enough to think the reader wants each and everyone of the these lacklustre strips put into the context of Greg Dean's life. Listen, mate, they're either funny or they're not (they're not). They either stand up or they don't (they don't). This is the visual equivalent of unseasoned tofu. Blank characters cut and pasted onto bland backgrounds. Horrible.

Horns Of Hattin (£9-99 Terra Major) by Shane L. Amaya & Bruno Angelo. Now, I want you to take a good look at the those credits; I want you to memorise the writer, the artist and the publisher, because you're going to want to steer well clear of all three now and forevermore. If the above was unseasoned tofu, this is bleached quorn that's been rolling around in a pool at the bottom of the Young Ones' fridge for five months, dusted down in their ashtray, then flushed down their toilet. You really wouldn't want to ingest that, now would you? Actually I've no idea what the fuck this is, my stomach isn't strong enough to persevere. I suspect it's a Christian tract glorifying the slaughter of the Crusades, but it could well be the opposite for all I know. I cannot and will not show you the visuals, but I do present the following piece of evidence as to why a couple of captions are going to be all that is endurable:

'Gregory, the bishop, servant of God, to all the faithful in Christ, to whom these presents shall come, health and the Apostolic benediction'

That's in a box, in pseudo-scriptural typescript, and I swear I've left nothing out. I think it anticipates the following piece of dialogue, just underneath it:

'Take example, all ye that this do hear or see, how they that I loved best do forsake me, except my good deeds that bideth truly.'

We're never going to sell it, in spite of the deceptively classy cover. Please, no one write in and say you can't judge what you haven't read: the smell of dog shit on the pavement is enough to dissuade me from tasting it.

Donald And The.../Donald Has A Difficulty h/cs (£8-50 each, Harry N. Abrahams) by Peter F. Neumeyer & Edward Gorey. Edward Gorey's the creator of macabre nonsense poetry like the GASHLYCRUMB TINIES, a sort of midway point between Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton. Here he's on board as illustrator/collaborator on short (very, very short) nonsense stories from 1969 and 1970 respectively, in which docile Donald is tended to by his absurdly overdressed, seemingly Ascot-bound mother. First he catches a mysterious white worm whose secret is revealed in a hilariously timed anticlimax, and in the second he gets a splinter. Aaand, that appears to be it. Was there a cautionary message in there about alcohol?

Hello Duudle (£15-00, Day 14) by Jon Burgerman & Sune Elhers - 'Jon & Sune have participated, via email, in what is sometime known as ping-pong or Photoshop tennis: Mailing back and forth sections of an image, each time inviting the recipient to continue the composition or extend the line.' Jon's a local guy, I might have seen some of his stickers around town. This is an extended jam piece that folds out as a five foot, full-colour frieze. Playful and fun with spot-varnish and a sheet of stickers.

True Brit (£14-50 TwoMorrows) by George Khoury. Just trying to keep this on the shelves at the moment, so haven't had chance to do more than thumb. Basically, it's series of illustrated interviews with British creators - or should I say British creators that have worked for corporations. There's no Andi Watson or Nabiel Kanan here, that's for sure. Those sitting for portraits include Grant Morrison (bang up-do-date interview including the WE3 series), Dave McKean, Leo Baxendale, Bryan Talbot, Lord Bazza of Windsor-Smythe, Alan Davis, and Frank Quitely. Loads more, but evidently Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman are all talked out at the moment.

Simon Bisley's Illustrations From The Bible: A Work In Progress h/c (£16-99 Heavy Metal) by Simon Bisley. The most interesting work I've seen in a very long time from the Main Man most famous for LOBO, and not at all what you might expect. In fact if you showed me his version of Daniel facing off against Goliath - the final colour version - I would have sworn blind that it was Kubert coloured by Isanove (1602, ORIGIN). I count only one bare breast (well, one female bare breast), and even that was covered up for the painting (oh wait, I've seen a few more, but they're in Eden so that's understandable). In fact the only pieces which made me smile in their predictability were the two heavy metal versions of Lucifer, and the only real flesh on show is man flesh. A lot of man flesh. Gladiators, centurions and doomed souls all bear their all, and there is an almost obsessive quality to the number and variety of crucifixion scenes, all suitably horrific, set at different times of the ordeal. At a guess they make up some three quarters of this substantial art book, before giving way to The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Bible illustrations have never looked quite like this before, nor has Simon Bisley or his palette, which for my taste is vastly improved. Excellent figure work, excellent book.

m a n g a

The Walking Man (£9-99 Fanfare/Ponent Mon) by Jiro Taniguchi. Do you go walking? Everytime I cross the River Trent on my way to work, something magical happens. I can't explain it, but it makes all the difference, a sensation of space and light and beauty heightened several-fold when I cross it on foot. Eye-candy. We all need eye-candy. And that's the simple premise behind this book. One man, sometimes with the dog his wife found under their house, takes eighteen different walks round the Japanese suburbs and occasionally out into the countryside. It's clean and it's beautiful and the word that keeps springing to mind is indeed 'magical'. The amount of work that has gone into some of these landscapes is staggering: line after delicate line, tracing the structure of trees, roofs and fencing. A quiet book of exploration which will cure any brief bout of the blues.

Hero (£10-99, Comicsone) by Wing Shing Ma - Well, the film's at the top of the US charts and it's coming over here soon. Visually the film makes Crouching Tiger look like Nil By Mouth and the book, like other Ma works is beautifully illustrated.

also arrived:

Captain America vol 5: Homeland (£12-99 Marvel) by Robert Morales & Chris Bachalo, Eddie Campbell. Seriously: Eddie Campbell.

Venom vol 2: Run (£12-99 Marvel) by Daniel Way & Paco Medina

Spectacular Spider-Man vol 3: Here There Be Monsters (£6-50 Marvel) by Paul Jenkins & Damion Scott, Paolo Rivera

X-Men: Days Of Future Past (£12-99 Marvel) by Chris Claremont & John Byrne, John Romita Jr.

Green Lantern: Passing The Torch (£8-50 DC) by Judd Winnick & Dale Eaglesham.

Batman: War Drums (£12-99 DC) by Gabrych, Willingham & Woods, Scott, Walker. Note that last comma.

n e w c o m i c s

King-Cat Comics & Stories #63 (£2-00, Spit and a Half) by John Porcellino - Fifteen years of publishing. It's been about a year since the last one but a lot has happened in John's life. He got married and moved from Denver to San Francisco. The front and back covers have little scenes from San Fran, I think I recognise the second one. It's been hectic here at the shop this week, we've had a lot of new stock, a lot of reorders. It's been a little busy. When this arrived it was a little oasis of calm. There's been no time to read anything but I always make a free moment for this comic. The three big stories are about drinking (giving up), haircuts (saving money) and bugs (friendly but annoying ones). There are little pieces that, in a way that few others have managed, show reflective parts of our lives. Recently I've not had the chance to step back and look at a grand landscape, or notice the stars (although the fireworks by the Trent can be seen from my garden) but you see through John's eyes here. The minimal art joins with the sparse language and slow everything down in a way that nothing else has managed these last two month. Maybe this year. We've also got MY WORD by John and his wife, and some King-Cat badges.

From 'Great Western Sky' -

'I feel lucky that I

got to experience

that great western sky...

The stillness of Nevada at 3a.m.

The silence of a thousand stars

shining down

The roaring of - not

one

word

spoken

anywhere' July 03 - Feb 04 J.P.

WE3 #1 (£2-20 DC Vertigo) by Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely. Rarely do you see a comic from an established creator which marks such a refreshing departure from their regular fare - not that you could class either Morrison's or Quitely's fare as 'regular'! And I think the sales speak for themselves: it's only been out a week as of typing this review, it's already sold double the quantity of SEAGUY, and I fear that in spite of the efforts we'll most certainly be making it will be sold out by the time you read this. Still, that's why we do previews as well. [Restocks are now in, sales through the roof - ed.]

WE3 are a cat, a dog, and a rabbit. They sit in smooth, thick-set body armour, with sparking aerials and wires jutting out of their skulls. They can even communicate in basic, monosyllabic text-style bites:

'Ha. Hello, boy. And how are you today?'

'I. M. GUD. R. U. GUD 2? 'MR. WAH-SHING-TON.''

'My god. It can't escape can it?'

'? R. U. 2?'

'Oh, 1 won't bite you, Senator. Not while the restraints are locked. Number 1 is a good, loyal dog. He only kills the enemies of our nation.'

'This is astonishing. Good dog. Good dog.'

'GUD DOG. IS GUD DOG?'

The military calls it augmentation - the first of a new breed of expendable weapons (and we've seen just how effective they are in the longest prologue to a mini-series I've ever seen). What you call it is up to you, but it is after all just a tiny 'progression' from current experimental practice. Morrison's choice of household pets as the subjects here is essential to the horror he and Quitely so successfully bring home (and I do mean 'home' - just take a look at the domestic idyll on the cover: the whole thing reeks of betrayal on our part). Some of the pacing I found odd (but then one man's 'odd' is another's 'delightfully unpredictable') with panels compressed into a very tight, squint-inducing squeeze, only give way to a full-on double-page spread, and then there's that seriously extended prologue. I really don't care, though, I'm so looking forward to the second issue, which again I cannot predict in any way, shape or form.

Return Of The Elephant (£3-99, Adhouse Books) by Paul Hornschemeier - I'm trying to remember the exact legends/sayings/stories that he's alluding to (or at least I think he's alluding to) with the title. One is about ignoring something is like an elephant in the living room. Something about a (possibly) family secret that no one wants to mention but everybody can sense it. The other is about three (maybe four) blind men coming into contact with an elephant and, individually, trying to describe it. One feels the leg, thinks it's a tree, the other finds the trunk, thinks it's a snake and the other (two?) say something else. I'm good at this, aren't I? Anyway, a friend of the family comes to visit and there's something that isn't said. One of their fathers was jokingly called 'the elephant man' because of the dry skin on his hand. The visitor has brought some videos to watch. Few details are given and we're not told what the two men are watching but you get a nasty feeling in you gut. Who is the elephant? Is it the visitor or the spectre of the father?

The President Is Dead (£4-99, self-published) by Dr. Parsons. Dr. Parsons is a very rude man. Very rude. He's also a massive hit here, where he's sold in his hundreds, whether it's his comics which mostly aren't comics (101 ways Diana could have died, This Buk is Called etc. - those two back in stock) or his mainstream book merchant editions (tony & me by georg bush, this is was by georg bush). This runs very much along the lines of the Diana book, with a series of gruesome wishful thinkings in which the end result is a huge relief to the world community. My favourite's the single panel in which Lady Di is innocently offering him a lift.

I Am Going To Be Small (£3-50) by Jeffrey Brown - 'Most of these comics were originally drawn from 1997 - 2000 in various sketchbooks.' Jeff Brown the gag-writer. If you'd only seen UNLIKELY and CLUMSY you'd think that this was near impossible. But if you'd seen the self-parody BE A MAN you'd understand. Great jokes, some laugh out loud, some just a brain chuckle. Two figures in an underground bunker, 'I don't think anyone's even going to try to rescue us.' The caption says 'skeptic tank'. Ninety six pages and a good one about unicorns. 'Missouri Love Company.'

Igor's A - Z (£2-50) by Tim Bradford - Simple, hand made mini on rough paper. 23 drawings with captions. 'Charming Diver Exaggerates Fish', Deranged Engineer Freezes Glovepuppet', 'Enormous Fundraiser Greets Hostage'.

Totally Bricktop (£2-60 Atomeka) by Glenn Fabry with Chris Smith. Brit suburban Tank Girl for the criminally surreal. Shopping trolley races, talking fish, big explosions, ice-cream cone projectiles and a random alien.

Bullseye: Greatest Hits #1 (£2-25 Marvel) by Daniel Way & Steve Dillon. Poor choice of title and inappropriate advance information from Marvel has left this a pleasant surprise. Of course it's almost impossible not to enjoy a comic pencilled by Steve Dillon, for his pages are consistently inviting in their quiet clarity and light. But Daniel has risen to the challenge, and where the inadequacy of the solicitation material comes in is that they failed to remark that the whole of the first issue would be set in an underground prison where no detail for security has gone uncalculated. And it's just as well, since one of the seven prisoners held there is Daredevil's adversary, Bullseye, who can turn any object found into a weapon - including a hairdryer, as Natasha Romonov once discovered. You see, we're already halfway into the story, and it's up to two conspicuously different agents to discover what Bullseye knows before the plutonium he's been playing with causes some as yet undefined disaster. So it's basically a conversation piece, and I for one prefer conversation pieces to crass displays of leaping about and hitting people, just as I prefer sitting down for a pint with my mates over trawling round Nottingham and smacking people (or, more realistically, getting beaten to a pulp). As long as the conversation's interesting, anyway. Previously we've known little about Bullseye except that he's a instinctive marksman with a keen sense of ingenuity and improvisation, and once had a brain tumour which sent him sensationally round the bend. Slowly, we're beginning to learn more...

Gambit #1 (£2-25 Marvel) by John Layman & Georges Jeanty. If someone introduced themselves to you as, 'LeBeau. Remy LeBeau, ' you might think, well, sexy name. But if they then went, 'My superhero codename's Gambit, but I don't stand much on formality,' you'd think, what a complete prick.

Hulk/Thing: Hard Knocks #1 (£2-60 Marvel) by Bruce Jones & Jae Lee. A Thing walks into a bar, and says to the scientist sitting there: 'We need to have a little talk.' 'You need, maybe...' says the scientist, 'I'm fine.' But the rock monster smacks the scientist to the ground, saying, 'Not you -- the other guy.' And so begins what I can only assume is a joke. We'll have to wait three months for the punchline, which is fine by me, because this temporary replacement for the regular HULK periodical is a vast improvement, not only because I am one hell of a fan of Jae Lee's personal version of neo-gothic, but also because it's as if Bruce Jones went, 'Phew. Am I glad I've finished that interminable storyline!' Basically, Ben Grimm, the Fantastic Four's orange-bricked heavyweight, seems intent on telling the Hulk (and emphatically not Bruce Banner), a few home truths in the guise of a few private anecdotes from his past. He finishes one with 'Your turn now' - only to interrupt a reluctantly persuaded Hulk with another. Strange, but a pleasant relief.

Strange #1 (£2-60 Marvel) by J. Michael Straczynski, Sara Barnes & Brandon Peterson. I swear I'd finished that last review with no intention of providing a link, but this too is both STRANGE (obviously) and a pleasant relief. Especially given that I wasn't sure what Sara was going to bring to the table, and I have little affinity with Marvel's Sorcerer Supreme. Straczynski does, however. Indeed his and Bendis' and Ennis' versions (oh, and Wizard's TWISTED TOYFARE version - does that count?) - which tend to portray him as an overly serious object of fun - are the only ones I've found myself engaged by. But for the moment you can forget all that, because it's all very Year One as we find the promising medical doctor on a field trip to Tibet, inspiring the first words from a traumatised young Wong in over a decade (Wong eventually becomes his manservant). Moved by his success and a bewildering experience high upon the mountains, Stephen promises to return. And Wong waits, and he waits, and he waits, but in the meantime success has gone to Strange's head and got to his conscience, for instead of helping people who are ill, he's lip-deep in collagen injections, readjusting people who are just... sick. Hardly enlightenment. Time for a rude awakening.

Ultimate Elektra #1 (£1-70 Marvel) by Mike Carey & Greg Larroca. Mini-series sequel to ULTIMATE DAREDEVIL & ELEKTRA, in which Elektra's Dad borrows money from people he shouldn't. One day someone's going to borrow money from someone they should, the philanthrope will waive all interest, and the loan will be repaid on time. Faith in human nature will therefore be restored, and a fine example set to all. It might sound boring, but at least it'd be original. This is more straightforward than the other Ultimate series, so no funny dialogue or particularly interesting ideas. In fact it doesn't feel like an Ultimate title at all.

Madrox #1 (£2-25 Marvel) by Peter David & Pablo Raimondi. 'The Soul Of A Gumshoe.' Jaimie Madrox has had an interesting life. In fact he's had several interesting lives, for Jaimie Madrox is the Multiple Man, able to create his own independently minded duplicates with but a bash of kinetic energy. Whilst stuck in a rut, unsure what to do with his life, he sent a whole batch of duplicates out into the world, to learn various disciplines which he can later absorb along with their memories. Now he's a Private Investigator, which is just as well because one of his dupes just came back with a hole in his chest. Armed with vague memories of the stabbing, he's off to find out who tried to kill him, and whether it was personal to Jaimie or just his duplicate. David has found some ingenious interpretations, manifestations and ramifications for Madrox's powers, which had been used for little more than biff-powing until David began writing X-FACTOR (Jaimie's last main appearance). The art's fairly attractive too, in a Guice/Gulacy way.

Worldwatch #1 (£2-20 Wild & Wooly Press) by Chuck Austen & Tom Derenick. Ever wondered what Chuck's superhero scripts would look like without editorial interference? Here's your answer: everyone bitches, obsesses over sex, and the girls get their kit off. Almost hilariously gratuitous. Derenick's pencils look much better before Rapmund deadens them with his inks. Presumably Avatar's terms weren't favourable enough.

Following Cerebus #1 (£2-95 Win-Mill Productions) by Craig Miller, John Thorne with Dave Sim & Gerhard. The first in a quarterly series of critical essays and interviews on the 300-issue comicbook series, in which its creator intends to play an active role, thereby doubling sales immediately. I worried about this: I wasn't sure Mssrs. Miller and Thorpe were up to it, especially when I saw that their first essay's goal was to examine the 'Something Fell' motif. Would it be amateur, pointless speculation? Would they be reading too much into things? And I was fairly convinced I was about to be proved right during the first couple of pages, but no. I think they could be onto something when they cite the manner of Cerebus' death as the key, something that never occurred to me during issue #300 itself (SPOILER ALERT: Cerebus fell off a chair - and it killed him - to precisely the same sound effects which accompanied the initial, ominous intonation nearly 250 issues prior to the finale), and that's not the only example of stuff exhumed here which I (who considers himself to be quite the attentive reader on the title) missed. Regardless of whether they're 100% right (and I think they may have neglected Cerebus' role as random, transforming element and amplifier), much of what they've come up with is intriguing, and there's the promise (well, potential) that Dave may reveal the truth next issue. Speaking of Dave, the interview here covers some familiar territory, including, I'm afraid, women being supposedly inferior to men (here's my retort: no one ever said that a man = a woman, but just because a woman does not equal a man in strict, equational form, it doesn't follow that women are unequal to men; my mother, for a start, can drink me under the table), but there's a fairly revealing extended sequence on just now profound a shift it created in the philosophical core of the book once Sim had converted from secular humanism to his own personal brand of Judaeo-Islamic Christianity, one of many aspects which cuts the work in two between #200 and #201. Lastly - well, not quite lastly, because the letters column isn't full of imbeciles either, they've found some astute correspondents - there's the very rare interview with Gerhard, in which the landscape artist talks about illness which neverly prevented him contributing to the last dozen issues, and the evolution of his working methods (with a number of illuminating examples). Most surprisingly of all, unless you've read the essay in the back of the LAST DAY trade, is Gerhard's insistence that his chief contribution to the pages of CEREBUS was to ruin them with his backgrounds. An extraordinary perspective, given that I doubt I will ever see finer in this medium for the rest of my life. (For more spectacular landscape, please see THE WALKING MAN in the manga section.)

m e r c h a n d i s e

tony & me by georg bush ltd edition button badges (£6-00) from Dr. Parsons. 50 sets in the world. How speshul is that? (sic) Four badges: tony, georg, 'GOD SAYS FIGHT' and, umm, a jagged-toothed, loonie beard/cloud/God. 'there comes a time when everyone begins to see the world as a series of 38mm diameter perfect circles. these badges are for that time.' See comics section for new comic, THE PRESIDENT IS DEAD.

UK Postage (overseas at cost):

£1-00 for the first comic (unless there's a book included in the package in which case it's just 25 pence), and 25 pence thereafter.

£1-00 each for Tokyopop or Lonewolf books, £3-00 for 'The Complete Bone', £1-50 each for other books or t-shirts.

'JLA/Avengers oversized double h/c slipcased edition', ''Behind The Panels', 'Cages', 'Comics, Comix & Graphic Novels' and 'Love & Rockets: The Complete Palomar' will cost a flat £5-00 postage, but anything ordered on top of them will of course be postage free, because.....

Maximum postage for all this lot is £5-00.

Posters and prints are sent separately @ £1-50.

Standing Orders:

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More information can be found in Comics International (£1-50), the Previews catalogue (£3-25), at www.ninthart.com and www.sequentialtart.com or indeed by e-mailing us at page45@page45.com

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l e t t e r s

Attention, all shipping lanes! Attention, all shipping lanes! Following my plea for a THIEVES & KINGS review, Simon Robinson, regular correspondent and most irregular school teacher, issues the following weather warning:

An opportunity to review one of my fave comics! That's for me!! Which issues of Thieves and Kings would you like reviewing...??

Fantastic. I imagine our more lunatic fringe will be thrilled.

Unfortunately we've just sold out of book four for the moment, so I've no idea what issue it goes up to. I think you can assume that book five will contain something like the last eight issues. A general review of the series so far, and something on the most recent material would be cool. Go to town on any aspects you like. As in any aspects you want to. Or like.

If I could have it by a week today, preferably in the morning, that'd be marvellous. Consider it homework, the student's revenge. I will grade you, obviously, and there may be detention if I feel you could try harder.

Oh wait, just realised you've got two months to do the review since the book won't be out till November, but if you could get into to us within the month, that'd be monkey spit, cheers.

At least, that's what I told him.

Dear sir,

I will be reviewing the relevant issues this weekend. I will coat the review in peanut butter and send it to you by radioactive carrier pigeon on Sunday.

Thus, it should arrive the day before I send it. That is all.

Simon.

Just a reminder: Simon teaches maths. Not English, and definitely not science.

Some fantastic news comes in the form a follow-up to our letters column from July part A this year, in which Chronic Fatigue, creator of zombie/bunny/gore titles MIXY and OUR WORLD, asked us for help in persuading a major distributor to handle his wares. Seems like our advice paid off.

COLD CUT WANT TO CARRY MY COMICS!!!!

phew...sorry about that, this is just a MASSIVE thank you for suggesting them and i am very happy right now, they liked them alot and want to distribute them in the US...

hope all is well and take care...

I'm now feeling smug as a bug on a drug.

Probably not tetramethrin. Coldcut are a huge distributor in the US, second only to Diamond, who do a thriving trade on all things Vasquez/Dirge (Chronic is not going to thank me for using this phrase in the same sentence and himself, but in other words: 'cute but dead' stuff). Fatigue's cloth patches are now in stock and ready to be safety-pinned to your t-shirts, bags or black leather jackets - or even your nipples if that's the way you hang. They're £2-00 rather than the £1-00 we suggested, but they're excellent prints, white on black and in two designs. You can also buy t-shirts direct, get your stuff signed at The Charlotte in Leicester on October 18th (www.thecharlotte.co.uk or www.psychobilly.com), or visit his own site at www.manydeadthings.com.

Donna Barr forgets we'll print pretty much anything she writes:

Thanks for mentioning my latest (November) books!

That's BOSOM ENEMIES: BRIDGEWORK, and AN INSUPPORTABLE LIGHT...

I can get you a copy of An Insupportable Light shipped right now, if you'd like one to review.

A very generous offer, but it'll only confuse our readers if we review them before they're on sale.

How the hell do you get this HUUUGE newsletter written every month?

Well, let's just say that this is my week's holiday this year, right here, right now, and I'm spending it writing this mailshot. Then after this is finished, I'm editing the new Recommended Reading List so that Mark can design the bugger and have it printed in time for our 10th Anniversary. At present my contribution for reviews over the last two years alone (and remember, this one's going to be covering everything - every book we currently stock which we consider top quality and worth at least someone's attention), comes in at 49,000 words, which, in 10pt Times Roman, racks in at a whopping 58 pages without illustrations. Yes, a lot of editing required! I don't think I'm heading for Scotland any time soon. The rest of the year I have no idea how they get done, but that's the price we're all paying for this medium being in overdrive right now (you with your wallets, us with repetitive strain injuries). But would anyone honestly want it any other way?

I'm afraid I've been concentrating on learning to fish and discovering bone-gaming (www.clallamatbay.blogspot.com) for the whole of the summer among other things. And moving. And selling a house. And all that crap. But it will be raining soon, and I can get back to work. I've got my hands on a hyperpen drawing pad and stylus (thank you Michelle Polk!) and I'm planning on.... now, don't quote me, it may NOT happen if the Gods hear...

Sorry, what was that...?

... releasing the next Desert Peach in full color -- WITH the Desert Peach novel as a full-length Print-On-Demand book. Yes, once again, I'm going out on a limb, technology-wise. Cross your fingers I don't bloody my face on ANOTHER wall. It could get ugly. Donna Barr

Everyone cross their fingers, please. And if you can still use a mouse with platted digits - or rather, if you with platted digits can still use a mouse - and you like a good horror story, try here for a real doozy about the art exhibition from hell, a cautionary tale for any artist: http://www.silverbulletcomicbooks.com/engine/109468172285476.htm I've never known Donna to be restrained - this would try the patience of a saint, let alone Donna! - but you will be staggered by her self-control in the wake of such toe-curling disaster.

Here's a new correspondent - and we do like new correspondents (consider that a cry for help, I can't fashion something out of nothing, you know) - and another young artist aspiring to embark on a career in comics:

Congratulations on the Diamond awards you guys deserve it no disputing that. My funny book is still a work in progress I'm hoping to use it in my portfolio for University interviews. As soon as if got the first prints one will straight to you guys. Any criticisms would be amazingly appreciated. But it'll be some time still. Thanks again for your great service Aran Timbrell

Aran used to be local before moving to mail order, and a more enthusiastic chap you'll never encounter. Almost every year we've received original, hand-painted Christmas cards, which must take hours to create. Each one of them is still pinned to our notice board, and I don't think there can be any better reward for whatever it is we do that inspires that sort of kindness. So. Almost ready to announce more plans for the 10th anniversary including that Recommended Reading List and a new window display so secret Mark won't even show me the sketches.

Once those are in the can, we'll be scouting out a location for a booze bash to which everyone'll be invited and have their first drink on us. Don't know exactly when that'll be, we have to get the hard graft sorted first. Finding the right sort of place we can hire at the weekend is not as easy as it sounds. Well, finding a place that will have us at all is a stumbling block. Plus we need to make sure Dominique's available.

Well, someone has to clean the ashtrays...