The Latest (In Every Sense) Recommendations!
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By Regie Rigby
Look, yes, I know. But it’s only the second time I’ve missed a week (OK, a week and a half this time) in nearly seven years, so I’m a long way from Marvel levels of lateness…
No time for excuses though, we’re late enough – so on with the show! It’s the final round up of reviews from Bristol this week, amongst other things, and I want to get straight into that because there’s a lot to get through!
I want to start with the latest issues of Bevis Musson’s wonderful Queen of Diamonds, because I’ve been neglecting it. Issues #8 and #9 came out together at Bristol, and make up a neat little two parter. Actually, given the cliff-hanger that #8 finishes on, I’m bloody glad that they did come out together, because if I’d had to wait until Bristol 2008 I don’t know what I’d do.
#8 pits the Queen against a crack team of special forces type operatives whose one objective seems to be to take him out. They’re good. Very good. Led by a sinister cyborg they know far too much about their target, and they appear to be winning. Worse still, when discretion seems to be the better part of valour they seem to have the upper hand.
As well as being available in good old fashioned paper, you can also enjoy the monochrome gloriousness of comics most colourful character free, gratis and for nuffin here, which is one hell of a bargain. Go now. Tell ‘em I sent you!
In #9 we see another side of the Queen. Since I first discovered the character I’ve become used to the fabulous side of Q. His flamboyance, his flair, and his wit. I never thought to wonder what he’d be like when his boundaries were crossed, when an adversary tried to hit him somewhere important.
Now I know what the Queen is like when he’s really pissed off.
Forget the glitter. Forget the smart chat. Forget the posing. When the Queen is pissed off, he’s scary. I won’t tell you exactly what happens, because I don’t want to spoiler a comic I’m going to encourage you to buy, and it’s not up on the website yet. Just trust me. It’s brilliant. Not online yet, but doubtless will be soon – and when it is, I’ll let you know.
As well as being cracking good reads, both comics feature the characteristically dynamic art that I have come to associate with Musson’s work. There’s real movement in these panels, as well as some absolutely brilliant facial expression. The black and white line work is smooth and fiendishly attractive too – as ever it’s a bit of a master class in how to do black and white comics.
Oh, and the three goons who are the cyborg’s backup team bear a striking resemblance to a certain Budgie Barnett and the “Two Drunk Guys in a Bar” team of Tony Lee and Dan Boultwood, which will provide a bit of a chuckle to anyone who knows them. (Which to be honest seems to be pretty much everybody…) They’re all looking rather flatteringly buff too, which I also found somewhat amusing.
Not that they’re not buff in real life, of course…
The other comic I wanted to bring to your attention was the intriguing Superhero thriller Mythos. This is top stuff – a Superhero comic with real balls and real soul.
What you have here is a conspiracy story. At the start of issue #1, an apparently ordinary guy receives the powers of the hero “The Myth”. He has no idea why he’s been so honoured, but The Myth manages to tell him that this was no random event before he dies. So what’s that about?
Well, we don’t know yet, which is one of the mysteries I’m looking forward to following as the series progresses. No on issue #3, there is some real cloak and dagger stuff going down in these black and white pages. Who is the guy kept in top security conditions in a secret facility? What has he got against the nation’s favourite hero? What have the authorities got in mind? Will out hero’s elevation to super power status destroy his relationships with those he loves? Who is the super villain in the basement? Why is he helping the Myth’s mysterious government contact?
And what is he going to do about the fact that his own greatest hero appears to be the worst criminal of them all…
Mythos is a real gem of a comic. The script by Stephen Aryan is tightly written and full of intricate twists and turns that drag the reader along through an almost unbearably convoluted rollercoaster narrative. This uncompromising storytelling style is complemented by Eddie Butler’s almost brutalist black and white art.
Aryan weaves a clever plot through more twists and tangles than a plate of spaghetti, and manages to work all sorts of things into the weft that so many indie superhero books leave out. There is some real character development here, but not at the expense of the overall pace of the story, which sort of sneaks up on you while you’re busy watching the lives of the central characters. Before you know it the next crisis has hit and you’re as shocked and confused by it as the characters it’s happening to.
This is either the greatest fluke in narrative history, or some genuinely skilled writing. Mythos is a real class act, and I commend it to you.
Also coming into radar range here at FoolCentral is that rarest of things, a good looking textbook about comics. Sequart.org have launched their first book, Grant Morrison: The Early Years, critically examining the early work of, well, Grant Morrison.
The book’s author, Timothy Callahan, examines the way that Morrison “redefined comics in the late 1980s and early 1990s”, starting with his creation of Zenith for 2000AD, through the astonishing work he did on Animal Man for DC (the final issue of his run on that comic remains one of the finest uses of the comics form I have ever read, and you should seek it out.) Then there’s Arkham Asylum (still the best single Bat story I’ve ever read), Doom Patrol and a whole host of other great stuff to be discussed.
Callahan says that "the book explores the unifying themes of Morrison's early work, providing a close analysis of stylistic and structural techniques. Morrison is arguably the greatest comic book writer in history, and this book attempts to explain why", so you can see that this is a somewhat pro-Morrison study, but in this instance, at least so far as I’m concerned, that’s no bad thing.
I’m a huge huge fan of Morrison’s early work, indeed I’d argue that since the five year period explored by Callahan he has often equalled the greatness he achieved back then, but never surpassed it. Callahan delves thoughtfully Morrison's sometimes “difficult” (read “impenetrably weird” texts and points out links and meanings that could well broaden a reader's understanding their significance to the story and to Morrison himself. There are certainly a few things that I hadn’t cottoned on to, and a few things I wish I’d know the first time I read his work.
Finally, there’s a pretty in-depth interview with the man himself to round the whole thing off. This is the first in a line of books from the Sequart Research & Literacy Organization intended to promote comics as a legitimate art form, which I have to say I’d regard as a noble endeavour – although one that it’s a little sad we still need to undertake.
If the rest of the series is as interesting as this opening example, I for one will be well pleased.
Right – who wants to bet I’ll see you on Wednesday?
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