Spider-Girl Presents The Buzz and Darkdevil

Written by Tom DeFalco
Illustrated by Ron Frenz and Sal Buscema (Buzz)
Illustrated by Ron Frenz and Al Milgrom (Darkdevil)
Marvel

Given how few superhero comics I read these days, this may seem like an odd choice to grab from the library, and no, it's not an old review from a few years ago that I'm re-publishing. I actually have read every single issue of Spider-Girl, most of Amazing Spider-Girl, and about a half of everything else in the Marvel 2 Universe.

What can I say? I like the idea of reading comics about what would have happened if the Marvel Universe had aged with me instead of staying stuck in neutral. And the man at the helm, Tom DeFalco, may not be the best writer of comics in the world, but he tells an enjoyable story that keeps the heroes heroic.

The Buzz and Darkdevil are two DeFalco and Frenz creations from the world of Spider-Girl, both with ties to Peter Parker and his supporting cast. They were limited series written to flesh out characters that got popular marks in the letters pages of the main Spider-Girl comic.

Buzz is secretly J. Jonah Jameson's grandson, a youth cast from place to place by globe-trotting parents (including John Jameson, one-time aide to Captain America and, incidentally, the Man-Wolf) who lands with Jonah and Marla. They've basically built a Spider-Slayer they intend to use to fight crime, only the man set to wear the suit ends up dead. Now Jack must fill the mission of the costume, but can't tell his grandfather a thing! Paired with Joe Robertson's grandson and Spider-Girl herself, Buzz must face one of Spider-Man's most deadly enemies, seemingly returned from the grave!

Meanwhile, in a similarly familiar yet different origin story, Reilly Tyne, son of Spider-Man clone Ben Reilly, fights crime as Darkdevil! Imbued with the spirit of the original Daredevil, he must fight both Zarathos and the Kingpin of Crime to prevent yet another attempted manipulation of New York politics by Wilson Fisk. (Doesn't he know that trick won't work by now?) Just how does Kaine, another legacy of the clone years, figure into this story? And can even a man with the spirit of the Man Without Fear stop supernatural and human villainy of the highest order?

I liked Buzz's story a bit better than Darkdevil's, but that's primarily because it's mercifully clone-free. While DeFalco may have fond memories of those mid-nineties Spider-Man stories, they just weren't very good and I'm still mad at my teenage self for buying them. However, it is interesting to see the characters from those years grow and change. (A clone of Peter Parker working for the Kingpin? That's either brilliant or awful, and quite possibly both in the most Marvel-like manner.) The idea that the son of a clone might suffer clone degeneration is pretty clever as well.

It's rather interesting that these stories are almost a contrast in storytelling. Buzz is about people who don't change. Jonah still wants to control the heroes and rages when he cannot. Marla's still playing mad scientist with JJJ's money. The villain of the piece, Doctor Octopus, remains as dignified as ever, even if he is a cold-blooded killer. Since Spider-Girl is fairly well liked by New York and the other heroes, Buzz falls into the Web-head's role of outsider who's distrusted by others.

On the other hand, Darkdevil has changes thrust upon him by the unthinking Kaine and the demonic Zarathos. The guy from Code Blue is more focused on the city as a whole rather than just crime as he runs for mayor. Peter is now a policeman. Kaine's killer past looms but here he's playing the role of his more heroic "cousins." Only the Kingpin is in familiar form, trying to run things from the shadows, even if he traded barred windows for barred walls.

DeFalco's scripting is right out of the Stan Lee playbook. Heroes recite corny dialog and villains monologue their way across the page. Politicians and cops say those words we can almost recite from memory. Both plots are also familiar ground, saving people from capture, thwarting master schemes, and arriving in the nick of time. It's all very familiar, and in large doses, I'd quickly grow tired of it. But for a few issues and about an hour's reading, it's a nice throwback. They may not make 'em like they used to, but DeFalco sure tries. Since it's so unlike most comics, this is as unusual as reading a Steve Gerber comic from the mid-70s.

The other reason I liked the Buzz mini a bit better is because of the inker. I'm a huge Sal Buscema fan and have been almost my entire comics-reading life. His inking is extremely prominent in the Buzz, looking almost like it did during his long run doing pencils and inks for Spectacular Spider-Man. He and Frenz are a great match, and the panels sing out for the days when comic book art in superhero comics was a lot better as a rule than it is today. People who are scared *look* scared. Characters move and react to the scenes and people around them, rather than posing for pin-up shots. Plus, we get the patented Buscema punch in a few places, always a welcome addition to any comic.

[Yes, I'm a bit of a grump when it comes to modern superhero comic book art. So much of it lacks the motion that typified comics of the 60s, 70s, and 80s. It's like we've regressed in drawing even as the writing is much more complex.]

Al Milgrom's inks over Frenz are good, too, they just lack the distinctive touches that Sal uses when he's given room to work. He's a bit quicker to reach for the solid blacks and shadows, but Milgrom and Frenz keep the story moving, even when characters are frozen in space. Their action layouts don't quite catch my eye the way that Buscema's do, but I still enjoyed them a lot.

While none of the Marvel 2 work is going to win an Eisner, they're fun stories. They take a What If idea and run with it across an entire set of titles. Sometimes I just like being entertained and leave the heavy lifting of more serious comics for another night. If you have a soft spot for writers like DeFalco (and his DC comics equivalent, Chuck Dixon), this is definitely worth picking up. However, I'd highly recommend that you read some Spider-Girl first.

The Plain Janes

Written by Cecil Castellucci
Illustrated by Jim Rugg
Minx

Slowly but surely I plan on trying to read all the Minx books, DC's unfortunately failed attempt at getting a comic line together that captured the imagination of young women readers.

I'm not going to argue the pros and cons of the idea, as that's been done to death by those with far better credentials than I have. Suffice it to say that I like the idea, but don't think they picked the best people to run with the idea as a rule. Nothing against people like Mike Carey or a young adult novelist such as Ms. Castelluci, but they aren't the first people I'd ask to write comics for a line designed to catch the eye of the Shojo Beat set.

After all, while *I* might read Hellblazer as well as Marmelade Boy, I have a funny feeling my never-going-to-happen twelve year old daughter probably wouldn't.

She'll probably only want to read Tarot and make me wonder where I went wrong.

Ahem. Moving on, then. Jane is a young woman whose parents decide they don't want to stay in the big city after a terrorist event and move to a small town where things are better for them but worse for their introspective daughter. She struggles to fit in, trying to make friends with those whom she think she'll like rather than those who might be most popular.

It turns out that the other girls she likes all happen to be Janes as well, ranging from athletic to theatrical to intellectual. They've got nothing much in common until our Jane comes up with the idea of making the mundane suburbia a hotbed of rogue art. Soon, the P.L.A.I.N. Janes are making art all over, and life is good. But what happens when the adults weigh in? After all, these acts of artistic graffiti are considered just as bad as any bomb, and the police chief will stop at nothing to end their antics.

Can Jane find a way to keep her new life going, despite overprotective parents and overreactive authority figures? Or will it all come crashing down, the way her life did once before?

Castellucci does a good job with the overall plot, pacing things just about right for a graphic novel that's roughly 150 pages long. She's probably used to working in that length, if I remember my YA books correctly. I really liked how she didn't spend too much time on set-up, allowing us to get a picture of Jane's problems before moving without getting so involved that we're halfway through the book before we get to the meat of the story.

I also liked her cast of teenage characters. The Janes are an unlikely group to be together, but that's part of the point. Their gay friend who jumps in later and the semi-boyfriend aren't given a lot of space, but I was able to get a feel for them right away. One of the girl foils is a bit simplistic but I can live with that. Without spending too much time on any of the people in the book, Castellucci let me know who they were and how they'd impact on the story. I'm so used to reading comics with multiple volumes that such brevity was refreshing.

That doesn't mean everything worked for me, however. While I enjoyed the book as a whole, there were a few points that kept me from giving this a stronger recommendation.

Castellucci's ending is a little rough, as the action kind of skids to a halt and has to resolve plot lines by the page limit, so we end up with a book that has a very strong buildup to an ending that's lacking a bit in emotional payoff. The resolutions to Jane's life as it stands seem entirely too far out of her control. I understand that she is a teenager and so much of a teen's life is spent being managed by others, but part of the point is that Jane resists this convention, and I think she deserved to be given a larger role in her life at the end.

My other issue was with the decision not to call the big city New York. It's obvious that she's referencing the attacks of September 11th, so why not just come right out and say it? I failed to see the point of covering with a fictional set of cities. Then again, I am not a big fan of thinly-veiled commentary or analogs, so it probably bothered me more than it would most readers.

I don't read a lot of YA fiction, so I can't really speak for how her characters interact with each other. Things on the teen level seemed good, but the adults all acted like paper cutouts whose only role was to thwart the kids. Their vast overreactions were almost comical and did not help the story at all. I can understand one or two to oppose the children, but the fact that there isn't a single sympathetic person over the age of eighteen bothered me. That might just be a convention of the genre Castellucci normally writes for, however.

DC made a good choice when they asked Jim Rugg to do the art for this book. Rugg is the artist on Street Angel and the upcoming Afrodisiac, with both books being highly regarded. I read the former a few years ago, and I'm looking forward to reading the latter as soon as I can grab a copy.

If you read Street Angel, you'll know that Rugg is very good at drawing teenagers, so this book is right up his alley. The characters are distinctive without going into caricature, allowing the reader to know who's talking at any given time. I also like the way people are always doing something, even if they are talking at each other. Little ticks like posture, hand movement, and even spacing between each other let us know how the kids at school are feeling.

Plus, he snuck a Crosby jersey on one of the Janes. Gotta love the hometown pride!

This is not my favorite of the Minx books I've read so far, but I liked it a lot and I think it probably is age-appropriate. Like a lot of the titles in the line, it reminds me of something Oni Press would publish, and that's not a bad thing. Castellucci's script is a bit rough in places, but I like her characters and would be happy to read more about them. (Since there's a sequel, I guess I get that chance!) Paired with Rugg's strong pencils, there's nothing plain about The Plain Janes. If you like Oni's offerings from Andi Watson or O'Malley's relationship comics and wanted to read more in that vein, this is definitely a good pick for you.

11th Cat Volume 1

Written by Kim MiKyung
Illustrated by Kim MiKyung
Yen Press (Originally Ice Kunion)

I have to admit, there's exactly one reason I wanted to read this one: The word "cat" is in the title. I'm an unabashed cat lover, and adding a cat to the mix will almost always get me to at least take a look.

11th Cat is the story of Rika, a rather inept student of wizardry who wants to get a magic staff. She's barely able to keep out of the hands of goblins or even a perfectly innocent cliff. Her friends reluctantly help, and the next thing you know, Rika is the master of a powerful spirit.

What's a clueless magical wanna-be to do? Take on a dungeon master's quest against a wizard who's entirely too powerful for her, of course! Soon Rika is right back in the soup, but can even her new servant help her out, or will old loyalties surface?

Normally I talk about the story first, then the art, but in this case, I'm flipping the usual structure of my reviews. MiKyung's artwork is so damned cute, and that dominates the entire scene. All of the characters have wide, expressive eyes that look like they're ready to be your best friend, unless of course they're unhappy. In which case, you'll probably want to offer them a pony to stop the waterworks. Even her goblin looks adorable, and can't stay evil for long.

Backgrounds are a little sparse, but that's not really an issue for me. There's enough scenery for me to know what's going on, and that's all I need. The bigger issue is that while the artwork is extremely pretty, it tends to be on the confusing side. There's several times where I had no idea what was going on, especially at the beginning where MiKyung flips between past and present. I also didn't like the way some of the panels were placed. Jammed together , often with diagonal lines or other visual tricks, it was confusing for me to follow the layout. No matter how pretty the pictures were, they weren't telling a clear story.

Part of the reason for that is that I don't think the story itself was all that strong. It reads like a standard dungeon crawl without any interesting twists or turns. Rika must find a magic pouch hidden in a forest to receive her prize--the wizard's staff. Then, once she's recovered the prize, she goes on an adventure that's literally called an adventure(!). Perhaps this is a translation problem?

That adventure is right out of every single RPG video game I've ever played, as Rika must try to save a princess. It would be funny if the idea was to show us how an inept wizard manages to get by, but instead she gets caught so quickly, it's just predictable, not interesting. Theoretically, there's a cliffhanger ending, but I wasn't hooked enough to care.

Compounding the problem are the characters. Rika is likable enough as a main character, but her supporting cast is weak. The reluctant friend is too distant, the intellectual friend is a cipher. Her magical companion is nominally animal-like but really acts more like a delinquent child than the cat-like creature I was hoping for.

I guess that's the main crux of the problem for me--this book is called 11th cat, and I wasn't able to find anything sufficiently cat-like about it. Maybe that changes as the series goes on, but I really need to see the cat hook come out sooner to stay interested.

My manga and manhwa choices tend to be safe bets these days that I'm pretty sure I'll like. I wanted to take a chance on this just based on the title and quick summary, but there's just not enough for me to seek out more, when there's so many more comics out there for me to read. 11th Cat is one of the prettiest comics I've read in awhile, rivaling CLAMP's house style. Unfortunately, the weak story and pretty basic characters drag this down too far for me to recommend it. If you read comics primarily for the art, however, it might be worth a try.

Webcomic I Like: Edmund Finney's Quest to Find the Meaning of Life

I'm on a quest of my own to read more webcomics, using 2010 to explore what's out there online. In no particular order, and on no particular schedule, I'm going to feature one here.

Tonight's entry is Edmund Finney's Quest to Find the Meaning of Life by Dan Long, a rather lengthy title that's frequently shortened to EQ Comics. Unlike a lot of the webcomics I read, this one has an ongoing story. However, it's loose enough that there's no need to go back and read from the very beginning. That's one of the things I look for in a webcomic, as I just don't have the patience to go back and root through the entire archives.

Finney is trying to do exactly what the comic name implies, find the meaning of life by wandering about the world. In the process, Finney ends up on various mini-adventures that make up the ongoing storyline.

Those adventures are both humorous and bizarre. For instance, the most recent comics have featured Finney following along with a famous snowman hunter after a rogue Frosty with anger management issues. That's a good place to start, which you can do so here.

Before that, Finney spent some time with an awkward man, checked out a corridor of unique performers (one of my favorite series so far), and my first series in, where Finney tries to survive a monster party.

The situations themselves are worth reading, but Long's ear for witty banter along with solid cartoon artwork puts this a notch above and makes it a favorite of mine that I look forward to reading twice a week. His bad puns are everywhere--wait till you meet the organ grinder--and the jokes are exactly the kind that cause you to slap your forehead--or the person who told them.

Luckily for Long, he's too far away to get the playful slaps I'd probably deliver if I was reading this in person. Instead, he's busy using alt-text to good effect, adding outside commentary that wouldn't make sense on-panel.

EQComics is a combination long-story and short-form webcomic that uses the advantages of both to mark a high point of my day every week. Check it out, you'll be glad you did!

Jonah Hex Face Full of Violence (Vol 1)

Written by Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray
Illustrated by Luke Ross and Tony Dezuniga
DC

A few months ago, I started picking up Jonah Hex in single issues, after giving it a try. I grew up on just about every western ever released to VHS, from Clint Eastwood to John Wayne, so the idea of a modern story in a western setting really appeals to me.

But I'm a slave to reading in order, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I opted to go back and see where this re-start of the old DC western began. DC didn't make it easy--they stubbornly refuse to put volume numbers on their Hex collections--so it took me forever to figure out which one had the right issues.

Once I got past that, I found a story that starts in the middle. Rather than try for an origin story, Palmiotti and Gray jump right into the action, providing six done-in-one stories that show Jonah Hex as a man with a single-minded determination to achieve his objective, regardless of the consequences to those around him. He's always on the side of right--but the right side might just end up as bloody as the foes Hex faces they aren't careful.

These issues, while not going back in time, do set Hex's world up pretty well. It doesn't take long to figure out we're in the late 1860s or so, given Hex's Confederate soldier history and the constant references to the spectre of Native Americans attacking Americans. It's the same world of the westerns of the youth, just darker and more realistic.

Hex's character, too, is set from the first story, about rescuing a missing child from a barbaric dog fighting ring. While he seems like an uncaring bastard to those who only see the bounty-grabbing side of him, Hex cares a lot more than he lets on and won't sit for any injustice, particularly against women or children. His idea of justice is swift, unmerciful, and singular. I can't speak for the original series, but in Palmiotti and Gray's hands, he's a bit like Frank Castle but with a dry wit that's usually lacking in Punisher books.

The stories themselves are refreshingly short for an American comic. None of the stories extend into the next, and I didn't think any of them needed to, either. There's the one about the dog fighting, followed by Hex's determination to return a cross to a poor town despite getting into quite a bit of trouble at another local village run with an iron hand by its founder, Ironside.

A corrupt Sheriff, perhaps my favorite western cliche, tries to take Hex out next, but he's soon rescued by another DC character, the natty Bat Lash. The banter between those two is a lot of fun, and I hope that Lash crops up periodically, since he doesn't have his own comic these days. The fourth story is probably the weakest of the bunch, with Hex bringing the wrong man in for a terrible crime. There's just not enough set up for me to believe the way events turn out.

After four issues of Luke Ross art, original Hex co-creator Tony Dezuniga takes a hand at the wheel, as Palmiotti and Gray show Hex on the losing end of a struggle. At least at first. The ending of the story is as much fun as it is unlikely, but it shows that Hex is not a man to be trifled with.

Ross returns for the final story, which reveals a bit of Hex's backstory as he ends up in yet another strange town (favorite western cliche #2) with ties to his past. But as with anything involving Hex, the results of any reunion are tragic.

The key to a good western is the characters, and the team of Palmiotti and Gray do a great job of filling the pages with interesting foes for Hex to fight. They're all villains, but their causes and reasons are different. They all say just the right things to trigger the conflict and each of them are just arrogant enough that, with a bit of luck, Hex can find a way to beat them.

What makes this work for a modern reader is the decision to make Hex a bit more modern than his setting. At first I was afraid that would seem anachronistic, but Palmiotti and Gray somehow manage to keep Hex grounded in his time without allowing him to carry the stink of the racist, greedy, evil people around him. Is this realistic? Heck, no. But this is a western we're talking about, where realism when out the window as soon as the first director said, "Action!"

The same is true for the plots. Hex's stories find him encountering familiar situations within the western as a genre, they are much more complicated and don't give us the black and white world of even the most shady Spaghetti Western. No one is truly innocent is the theme, and it works. After all, while I can read a 1950s comic that's got stereotypical Native Americans in it, finding the same in a comic written 50 years later would horrify me. I'm glad to see they didn't try for a retro feel, as I think that would have failed miserably.

About the only thing that didn't work for me is the art. Luke Ross's designs are far too slick and clean for a western. His Hex barely looks horrifying, which is supposed to be his trademark, and his facial features resemble Clint Eastwood far too much for my taste. Everyone's clothing is perfectly tailored and clean. Even Spider-Man gets rips in his union suit, but Hex must keep pressed pants in his saddlebags, at least with Ross at the helm. The colors are also far too bright for the dark stories being told here, but I'm not sure which of the to colorists (or both) are responsible for that.

When Dezuniga takes over for one issue the art improves dramatically. I'm not sure if it's his age or how he's always drawn, but Hex's face is a patchwork mess and all of the characters look like they've been through the wringer. There's strong characterization in the faces and everything has a fluid sense of motion, as opposed to the posing nature of Ross's layouts. By the end scene, Hex looks like a maniac demon from hell--and maybe, just maybe, he is. There are shadows everywhere, befitting the trapped nature of Hex and his small band's plight in the story. It has all the signs of a master artist at work that so much of comics is lacking today as computers start to dominate the work. I'd love to see future Hex stories follow that artistic path rather than the clean-cut rendition by Ross.

One last artistic note--the covers for these issues are pretty cool. Tim Bradstreet, who did some wonderful Punisher cover work, is on the cover of this trade, but you also have Frank Quietly, Howard Chaykin, and the ever-cool Brian Bolland, who manages to match his cover to the interior story--such a novel concept these days!

I think you have to have a strong love for westerns to enjoy Jonah Hex. After all, he's basically Punisher: Year -100, so if killer vigilantes aren't your thing, then it's not going to do anything for you, unless you have fond memories of the flawed but fun westerns of the golden age of Hollywood. Palmiotti and Gray have updated the genre and shown that a modern western can work.

I also think there's an audience for this (a topic that comes up from time to time on comics blogs that follow single issues), but it's rather specific and probably too small to support more than one or two comics at a time. As long as Palmiotti and Gray keep writing Jonah Hex, I'll happily go along for the ride. I just hope most of the next trade has art more fitting with the story they're trying to tell. Once that happens, I think Jonah Hex will really sing for me. Either way, I'm definitely in for volume 2, assuming I can figure out which one it is!

Soundtrack

Written by Jessica Abel
Illustrated by Jessica Abel
Fantagraphics

I really enjoyed La Perdida, the first Jessica Abel book I'd read, so I'd been eying this one up at the library the past few times I'd be around to browse the stacks.

Soundtrack is a collection of Abel's self-published work, both in mini-comic and newspaper form, along with a few pieces here and there from anthologies. In addition, a few previously unpublished illustrations are included. The book is divided into six chapters, ranging from "short fiction" to "journalism" to "covers."

Due to the nature of the book, it's a very mixed bag of material ranging from experiments with artistic style, subject matter, and length. Nothing, however, is more than a few full size pages, as I imagine the original printings were smaller in scale.

Overall, I'd have to say that this book was a bit of a disappointment. I'm pretty flexible in my comics reading, especially with mini-comics and even I had a bit of a problem because the selections feel stripped of context. It's a major flaw in presentation in my opinion that distracts from the reader's ability to understand how Abel matured as an artist. When I read an archival work like this, I'd rather see things arranged by date, rather than subject. Pieces from Artbabe, the comic that put Abel on the map and got her a place in the Fantagraphics family, are chopped up across sections. That might work thematically, but it hurts in terms of looking at Abel's early work as a whole and seeing how she progressed from piece to piece.

Had there not been a brief explanation of the sources, which I found quite useful in my quest for context, I might not have even finished the book. For instance, in the "Funny Pages" section, there are two really badly drawn comics that seem out of place--until you learn that Abel was experimenting with primitivism. Another one-page comic has a random alien attack in it, which makes sense because it was for an anthology of such stories. The trouble is that you have to flip back and forth between the index and the stories, a distracting process that could have been solved by keeping things together or using a footnote to provide context.

If you can get past the odd structure, there are some really fun pieces in here that show why Abel was selected for major publishing. The alien story is perfectly normal until it tips its hand, in a cool narrative trick that's done in one page. Stories like "The Junkie" and "Jack London" foreshadow the relationship stories Abel would later pen, and her newspaper feature on Godzilla fans is so cute as to make me wish she was still chronicling events in comic form.

As with the stories themselves, artistically this is all over the map. It would have been nice to see the art progression in linear form, but it's still possible to do so here, albeit by flipping back and forth. Abel's style is pretty well defined by the time we get to the later Artbabe material, and even the newspaper work from 1995 shows the touches most readers will be familiar with. In a few cases it looked like Abel was trying a more 1950s pulp style, but I am glad that didn't stick.

Overall, Soundtrack is a useful historical record that could have been stronger if Fantagraphics or Abel had opted to place the material in a better context. As it stands, it reminds me a bit of the old Peanuts collections--a good read, but lacking perspective. Fantagraphics got that right by printing in order. Maybe someday, as Abel's popularity grows, we'll see this material again in a way that sheds more light on her early work. In the meantime, it's probably okay to pass on this one unless you are a big fan of Ms. Abel's. I enjoyed it on that level, and most likely, you will, too.

Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service Volume 2

Written by Eiji Otsuka
Illustrated by Housui Yamazaki
Dark Horse

Dark Horse's manga has been a pretty reliable source of enjoyable stories for me, and I was happy to move from Mail to Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, even if I found that I liked the former a bit better than the latter.

That's still the case but Otsuka shows his writing chops with this compelling, entire-volume story that threatens to tear the group apart before they've really had a chance to stay together!

The Delivery Service falls on hard times, and one of its staff members opts to pick up work at a funeral home that runs a rather fascinating side business using a girl who might just be even better at working with the dead than the Delivery Service! Meanwhile, Makoto and Kuro start taking on jobs for free and Ao seems to withdraw further into herself as her tragic family history comes to light, bit by bit. On top of everything else, that same funeral home wants to merge with the Delivery Service. It's an offer that just might be perfect, but with the team splintering into factions, does anyone care enough to investigate the offer?

These seemingly disparate paths are weaved together by Otsuka into a climax that's as surprising as it is logical, based on all that came before in the story. As the reader turns the pages, the plot twists and turns but never breaks, and in the end, almost the entire Delivery Service crew is needed to solve the crime. It's put together quite beautifully, and is worth the read just for that fact alone, though there's plenty more to like about it.

More than most manga I've read lately, this story had the feel of an American comic series, with the concept of a "story arc" dominating the flow. It's not that other manga don't hold one story across a single--or perhaps several--volumes. That's certainly the case. However, this volume of Kurosagi that reminded me of the days when Marvel would announce "The beginning of a great six-part story!" in the days when they did that within an ongoing title instead of a plethora of minis. We set up a problem for the team, they moved on separate paths, and came together at just the right moment to save the day, or at least as close as you get to saving the day when corpses are involved.

I'd also wager that Otsuka was reading quite a few well crafted mysteries before starting on the plot to this one. In addition to having the typical horrific elements that I expect from the series (even at this early date), there is a very tight story running through the pages. Despite initial appearances, everything is not at it seems, and Otsuka ties the knot closer as the story progresses. Little details that almost (but not quite) seem like throwaways begin to nudge at the edge of the reader's brain, as in any good mystery story.

I also like how Otsuka split the traditional detective part into the various members of the group. Yuji is the patsy, Ao looks to buy into the shady deals offered to her, Kuro gets a hunch and just can't let it go, and Makoto takes on the role of the sidekick to the gumshoe. It's a neat idea that uses the ensemble cast within a usually singular framework.

By the time we reach the ending, I felt that Otsuka had played fair with me the entire time and that the characters acted in a logical manner based on the facts presented to them. Even Ao's strange behavior clicks into place, which was the one piece that didn't add up until almost the very end.

Those who enjoyed the creepy elements of the first volume should still find plenty to keep them going. There's zombie cats and talking corpses and oozing body parts, all drawn with perfect skill by Yamazaki, who continues to impress me with his ability to tell a horror story without resorting to buckets of blood. However, a lot of the scare factor this time is in the psychological nature of the horror and the idea of what people are willing to do in the name of vengeance.

It's a story of liberation in some ways, and the ending definitely showed that the author and I have very different ideas on the concept of justice. I can't say I agree with some of what is implicitly condoned in the book, but that doesn't mean I didn't think it was a great story. (I love old noir authors like Raymond Chandler, but I certainly don't advocate the way he treats women in his stories.) I'm just glad that this is a fictional world, and that Otsuka doesn't have control over the criminal justice system, and we'll leave it at that.

I already mentioned Yamazaki's artwork in relation to horror, but I also want to point out his chops in telling the story itself. He has the ability to keep the narrative going, even when there is some down time as Otsuka sets the stage for bigger things. I also love the way he poses his characters when they are ready to make a big announcement. They always look so self-assured regardless of the situation, both in this series and in Mail. It's a nice touch that I appreciate.

If there's a problem with the art, it's that Yamazaki seems to have the Vertigo sickness in relation to his drawing of women. There are several gratuitous shots of women's breasts, including a primary character, that aren't necessary in relation to the story. I don't object to naked characters per se, I just think it should be there for a good reason, and I wasn't able to find one here, especially Ao's topless shot. I wonder if that has something to do with the original location of the story? Can someone with better knowledge of the original clue me in?

Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service is a very solid adult-oriented manga series that works both as short stories and in long form, as we see in this volume. There's a nice mix of horror and mystery that attracts me on both levels and they get just about equal treatment here. I'll be curious to see if future volumes continue in the single-story format or if they return to episodic pieces. Either way, I'll be looking forward to my next delivery.

Whiteout Volume 2

Written by Greg Rucka
Illustrated by Steve Lieber
Oni Press

Rucka and Lieber return to the frozen wastelands of Antarctica in this second volume of the series. I really enjoyed volume one and read the second part of this series shortly after finishing the first. I was curious to see how they went about using the world they created without it feeling like a rehash of the first series (a problem crime series can have, as Rucka notes in his afterward).

This time around, there are deadly goings-on at a Russian base, where the contents of the station are a bit more strategic than just scientific information. The US Government would like to know what is going on--and US Marshall Carrie Stetko is just the person for the job.

You see, rogue actions got her banned to the ice in the first place, and if she plays ball with the Feds, this might be her ticket out of Antarctica once and for all. All she has to do is find dirt on the Russians. It's simple enough, until she arrives to find the stakes are a lot higher than she was led to believe.

Now Carrie must wrestle with the very continent she both fears and respects as she matches wits with some of the best the old USSR has to offer, turned mercenary. Can even a former KGB agent make the difference when everything from guns to ice to her own emotions are being used against her? What will Carrie do to see green grass on a daily basis? And what are the consequences if she fails?

Rather smartly, Rucka doesn't try to give us another mystery. He's not out to set up Carrie as the Poirot of the Pole. She's a US Marshall in a backwater jurisdiction that no one else wants, and only extraordinary circumstances can make her interesting to her superiors (and the reader). Instead of giving her simple murders to solve, Rucka significantly ups the risk and places global security in her hands. That's quite a change from running fingerprints.

Now Carrie is turned into a reluctant espionage figure, and the result is interesting. She's still perfectly comfortable on the ice, despite some failings, but her ability to read the spy situations is absolutely terrible. Rucka is willing to make Carrie far more human this time, which is a nice development. My only problem is that I think he may have erred too far in the other direction.

Based on what we know of Carrie in the first volume, I can't see her agreeing to help the Feds no matter how good the deal. She's clearly independent and has learned not to trust her own employers. Why start now? What guarantee does she have? As the story progresses, we get a good reason for her to want to be involved, but at the start, I just don't think it's realistic. Similarly, I don't see Carrie making the mistakes she does with the Russian agent, Kuchin. After working so hard to build her up, it seems like Rucka humbles her here, and as a result, I felt the characterization was a bit off from book to book.

I'd have rather seen Carrie get drawn into this story by other means which would be more in keeping with her distrust of everyone. Similarly, I don't think anyone gets the drop on her, regardless of the situation. But I did like the idea that no matter what, Carrie was not giving up. She fights through the perils of the geography and the terror of mercenaries with the dogged determination she investigated the murder in the first book. She also is the only thing keeping Kuchin alive, as he's apt to discount the power of Antarctica.

It's not like Carrie's going from strong woman to helpless victim or anything. I just came to really like the way Rucka positioned her in the first volume and was a bit perplexed at the decision to weaken her when teamed with a man. There was some balance in them both being out of their element, but I felt like he got the better end it, and that made me a little disappointed in the results.

Rucka's use of Antarctica as a character, however, is amazing. The history of the continent and man's desire to exploit it are front and center in this story. Rucka mentions in his afterward of the idea of Antarctica as neutral avenger, killing not because the mercenaries are evil but because the ice just doesn't like people. That's such a great concept, and Rucka's well-researched insertion of historical information and meteorological fact bring it front and center. Carrie knows that the ice is the King of Antarctica, and no matter what she, Kuchin, and the mercenaries do, that fact will not change.

The story this time is straightforward spy material, with Rucka using a pretty standard post-Cold War trope as the plot. He could have used just about anything, because the story in this volume is about the characterization of those who come to Antarctica and those who choose to stay there, a continuation of the theme from volume one. Nothing in the plot is going to win readers. It's the characters who are the key, and even if I was less happy with Carrie's presentation this time out, I'm still a fan of Rucka's interplay between people, the ease of dialog, and the strong sense of difference he gives everyone, even minor players like the Feds or the mercenaries.

I spoke at length in my review of volume one of Steve Lieber's artwork for Whiteout. I had not been a fan of Lieber's work previous to reading this series, but I continue to be amazed at what he's able to do when working on a project that excites him. Lieber continues to use the contrast of white (instead of the typical crime/suspense drawing trick of black) to show that it's the snow and the ice which dominates the landscape. Things fade into (or stand out from) the overwhelming whiteness of Lieber's panels, making for a visual that is quite unlike what you normally see in a comic, especially one designed for black and white.

If the last volume featured Lieber making the most of a lot of indoor sets, this time we get to see Lieber explore the great frontiers of Antarctica, and I think he really nails it. Often just by working lines into a white canvas, Lieber shows that once you are past the few settlements in the wilderness, Antarctica is a big blanket of white, even at its most mountainous. He also gives a great sense of either claustrophobia or agoraphobia, depending on the scene. Without being overly intricate, which would have distracted from the story, Lieber makes the world around Carrie live and breathe in a way that helps Rucka use it as a factor in the story.

Once again, I also feel the need to mention Lieber's active posing of characters, particularly Carrie, and the use of facial features to reinforce Rucka's dialog. People's eyes flash, shoulders shrug, and mouths gape in terror at the dangers they face. This story would have been a lot less interesting if Lieber left out even half the expressions he gives the characters.

I did not enjoy the sequel as much as original, mostly because the plot was less interesting and I could not shake the feeling that Carrie was not quite herself. However, that doesn't mean that Whiteout Volume 2 isn't a very good comic. It just means that Rucka and Lieber set the bar so high the first time it was going to be hard to match. This is still a story that plays to Rucka's strengths and features absolutely gorgeous artwork from Lieber. This book is worth reading for the idea of Antarctica as a force of nature alone. It helps that Carrie is quite likable as a character and that Lieber draws her almost as well as Rucka writes things for her to say.

If you liked the first book or Rucka in general, I can recommend this one without hesitation. I'd love to see more in the Whiteout universe, if Rucka, Lieber, and Oni are willing to create it for us. After all, the ice holds many secrets, and Carrie's only cracked the surface of what they mean--or what her new life in exile means to her. Give the Whiteout series a try. You'll be glad you did.

Whiteout Volume 1

Written by Greg Rucka
Illustrated by Steve Lieber
Oni Press

I'd been wanting to read these books for awhile now and took advantage of some down time on a long trip to sit down and see if the pattern of "I like Greg Rucka when he's not trying to do superheroes" continued for me.

The answer was a resounding yes, as this series about a US Marshall banished to Antarctica is exactly the type of crime/suspense comic that Rucka is really good at.

Our heroine is Carrie Stetko, who was sent to the coldest place on earth because she had an altercation with a prior prisoner back in the United States. Things are quiet, if a bit cold, until an exploration team turns up missing and one member is quite clearly dead.

Now Carrie must work like mad to solve the crime before most of the population of the continent is sent home, leading her across several stations and running into a shadowy British woman who wants to help Carrie--or does she? What, in this wasteland of snow, can possibly be so valuable as to be worth a man's life? And can Carrie and her unlikely partner solve the mystery before time runs out?

Those are the questions that Rucka explores with the reader, playing fair along the way for good measure. I was able to figure out the crime and the reason behind it, along with another crucial part of the plot (which I don't want to mention because it would spoil it for a new reader) a little bit ahead of each revelation. If anything, Rucka might have been too fair--I wouldn't have minded being surprised. There are a few red herrings, of course, one of which I wish had been pursued, as I think it would have added to the mix. But overall, read as a pure mystery/suspense story, this holds up very well, which I guess is no surprise given Rucka's background.

Free of continuity and existing characterization, Rucka can concentrate on the story he wishes to tell, and does a great job of it. Those who have read a lot of Rucka's comics by now will instantly recognize Carrie as Rucka's strong woman who is better than everyone around her. She definitely is the model for Renee Montoya and Kathy Kane. If there's a problem, it's that Carrie, like Rucka's Montoya, is almost too perfect. She figures out the crime, she survives every peril put before her, she overcomes the males who want to get her down. She's the little engine that could, which can be annoying if pushed too far. In this case, Rucka skirts that line but doesn't cross it, though your tolerance may vary.

It's certainly a refreshing change from reading so many weak women in comics, but I feel like Rucka is overcompensating for his fellow creators' flaws. Carrie's only sin is that of overconfidence and a willingness to kill, neither of which harm her irreparably. I prefer my characters, especially in detective fiction, to have more character quirks.

That being said, I really enjoyed the story. It's obvious Rucka worked hard to research conditions in Antarctica, the relationships between the various stations, and what might motivate a person to kill in such a barren environment and a limited suspect pool. There are all sorts of little details included to help you get a feel for the world in which Carrie lives: Life lines because of visibility, the rapid drops in temperature, and the (probably ignored) treaties signed by various nations are just a few of the details Rucka includes to help flesh out the story.

I studied Antarctica a lot in school, so I was easily able to tell how much work went into the background material of the story. Rucka should be commended for taking such pains to make the story accurate to its location and not just a murder set in a cool place.

Taking time to make sure the setting is accurate doesn't sell the story alone, however. Rucka's dialog is sharp and each person gets a distinctive voice. I think he even captures the feeling of what it would be like to be a strong woman among so many men very well, despite being male himself. (Since I am also a guy, I may be totally wrong on this score.) Plus, the idea of both main protagonists being women is pretty neat and rather rare in the mainstream comics world. The narrative flows cleanly from page to page, and there aren't any dead spots, even when we have to go back and get Carrie's origin. By the end of the story, I felt like Rucka had tied up the loose ends without preventing him from revisiting Carrie in a later comic. For me, that makes this a successful crime story.

Prior to reading Whiteout, I was not a big fan of Steve Lieber's art style. I felt like he wasn't able to really get the story across to me in a way that meshed with the narrative. That's not the case at all here in Whiteout.

Most crime books use shadows, but Lieber cannot. Instead, he uses white spots to blur images, which I think is a brilliant flipping of the typical noir feel. While most books fade to black when trying to obscure, in Antarctica, the overwhelming color is white. That doesn't mean he ignores black ink--it's used for effect, too. But the overall idea that the white of the snow and ice can obscure all--even a criminal's tracks--helps to reinforce Rucka's theme of Carrie versus her environment.

I also appreciate the fact that Lieber tries hard to keep the action flowing, matching Ruck's constant movement of the characters. It would be very easy to leave them static as an art tactic (frozen like the world around them), but Lieber instead opts to use movement to oppose the weather outside. In addition, his facial features really sing--Carrie, Furry, Loo, Lily, and even minor characters all emote very well to the reader, leading to clues and red herrings just by the looks on their faces. This is something I've been paying a lot of attention to lately, and Lieber really nails it here.

As he mentions in the afterward, Lieber shines by treating this comic as though it were his own personal sketchbook. He mentions using all sorts of techniques and brushes, and I think that effort comes through. The freedom to do as he wishes unlocked something in Lieber that I hadn't seen before, and I really hope to see again.

Overall, Whiteout is a great crime comic, and would be a very good gateway comic for someone who likes detective fiction but isn't sure about reading a "funny book" or the possibilities they hold for those who like mysteries. Rucka and Lieber combine for a compelling page-turner, and that's exactly what I want from the genre, whether it's text, television, movie, or comic. Rucka's typical favoritism towards his protagonist is here in spades, but it doesn't get in the way of the plot. I can recommend the first volume of Whiteout without any reservations to comics fans and crime fans alike.

Tarot Cafe Volume 6

Written by Sang-Sun Park
Illustrated by Sang-Sun Park
Tokyopop

One of the dangers of a continuing series is that it can wander off the original purpose, or hook, that drew a reader to it in the first place. That leaves the reader feeling like they are looking at a different book, one that holds far less interest to them than the concept that hooked them in the first place.

That's where I'm at by the 6th volume of Tarot Cafe. The pretense of a fortune-telling shop is still there (we see the Cafe in a few places), but there are no strangers waiting to have their story told by Pamela. The entire volume is taken up by her tangled, confusing past, where Pamela crossed paths with a demon who still haunts her to this day. She's close to unlocking the key to removing her immortality, but in the process learns that so much of what she's counted on is a lie, orchestrated by Belial. When you're dealing with a demon, is there any way out?

The story itself is not bad, but when we saw it in pieces over the course of the first five volumes, I found it to be too confusing for my taste. I think Park's goal was to keep things vague until this set of stories, which contains as close to a big reveal as we've gotten so far. However, in the process, Park kept me at arm's length in relation to the plot, so now that I'm supposed to be paying attention, it left me cold. Given a choice between focusing on Pamela's overly complex history and enjoying the stories of her patrons, I chose the latter.

From what I can gather, Pamela has been clueless all this time as everyone around her manipulated her from behind the scenes. As a mystic, I find that hard to believe. She'd have to have a mental block the size of Mount Rushmore to prevent her from seeing through some of the lies presented here. In the effort to keep everything under a veil of mystery, Park has not given Pamela the legs she needs to stand on her own as a focal point. Even now, Pamela looks so passive it's a wonder she's able to escape by the end of the volume to regroup for what I presume will be another confrontation with Belial in Volume 7.

Tarot Cafe was, for me, about reading the fortunes of interesting characters, with Pamela as the framing device. I never thought she was all that strong as a character, and now that she's the focus, I think that was the correct assumption. I'd like to see Pamela actively participating in her story, if we have to feature her so heavily. I just don't see why Park opted to go down that road in the first place, when the premise was fine as it stood.

All that being said, the artwork is still gorgeous. Park's linework is as detailed as just about anyone I've read, particularly in a page featuring humans with their flesh flayed from their bones. It should have been grotesque but Park finds a way to make it look like a work of art. The drawings of dragons are simply stunning. Even if the story is not the best, Tarot Cafe is worth picking up because of the artwork, and I don't often say that, as story is my primary reason for reading any comic.

Overall, I'm sad that Tarot Cafe has strayed so far from the path set out in the first few volumes. However, I'm this far in, so I plan to finish it, especially since Park's artwork is so pretty to look at. At this point, however, I wouldn't recommend the series because of the shift in focus. The Tarot Cafe has changed its menu, and this customer wasn't happy with the new chef. However, the pictures on the menu really do look good!

The Twilight Zone: The Odyssey of Flight 33

Original Script by Rod Serling
Adapted by Mark Kneece
Illustrated by Robert Grabe
Walker & Company (Bloomsbury)

This is the second in Kneece's adaptations of old Twilight Zone episodes, taking the original script and moving it into a different kind of visual medium. Aided by an alumni of the Savannah College of Art and Design, Robert Grabe, they aim to give a new generation of readers an appreciation of the talents of a horror/suspense genre master.

I'm sure just about anyone who follows my reviews knows Serling's prolific writing career for various television programs and his keen eye for taking a particular human quirk (often paranoia) and inflaming it by introducing a supernatural phenomenon.

That's the case on the Odyssey of Flight 33, where an ordinary flight runs smack dab into the Twlight Zone. On a return trip, the passengers and crew are dealing with the usual issues of a long passage across the ocean when an unknown force suddenly grips the plane. When control returns to the pilots, things are changed. Flight 33 is in a world they can't imagine, one in which they are very much out of their element. How do they return home? Can they return home? Those are the questions that enter your mind when you fly into...the Twilight Zone.

Kneece's script once again mirrors the original, taking pains to be as close to the source material as possible. The dialog is right out of the original, with almost everything being taken care of the characters instead of narration boxes. He even leaves the time period intact, a choice that I'm not sure I agree with. If working for a new audience, I don't think there's any harm in updating the timelines to help a teen understand what's going on. (I continue to wonder how this plays to the intended audience.) But otherwise, the writing is solid.

Unfortunately, however, his art partner this time doesn't work as well as the first story I read. Instead of using dynamic camera angles to heighten the tension, everything is a straight shot. Action scenes play out like the characters are wooden dolls, and the pacing takes the life right out of the drama of being stuck in time.

I understand that there's not much that can be done to punch up a comic that's going to feature repeated scenes of a cockpit or airline cabin. However, this is where usage of facial features could have gone a long way. As the actors did in the original episode, there's a lot of room to emote even if the scenes don't change. Instead, the characters all have three expressions: Blank, shock, and smiling, with no variations. Serling's world is that of the imagination but Grabe's art is far too pedestrian to capture that world.

As a result, this time around I wasn't as happy with the overall adaptation. The Odyssey of Flight 33 in comic form just moves too slowly for me and I couldn't recommend it unless you are a hard-core fan of the series. There are several others in the series, however, so I am looking forward to reading more. With better artwork, these are great fun.

Booty 22

Written by Anne Thalheimer
Illustrated by Anne Thalheimer
Self-Published

Anne's journal comic is in its 22nd iteration, even if this is the first one I'm reading. A loose journal comic (she doesn't keep a day-to-day track record), Booty uses words and pictures to tell whatever stories she feels like including that relate to the time period covered.

In this case, it's quite a bit of time, going from July of 2008 to September 2009, just a little bit before SPX, which is where I got to meet her (and pick up some of the mini-comics she's referencing in this issue). There are entries about her personal feelings, taking her mom to Ireland, writing mini-comics, and of course the inner thought processes of cats. In other words, it's an almost random collection of parts of Anne's life that she felt like sharing at the time, with hints to her outside interests (Halloween, roller derbies) cropping up in the margins. (I really like her Halloween drawings on the front and back covers.)

There is no holding back, either. Anne is not afraid to talk about her most personal issues, such as wanting to reassemble her life to make herself better or allowing herself to go down roads she shouldn't. Just because these slices of life are selective doesn't mean they are designed to make her look good. Like any writer involved in zine culture, Anne knows that any reader of her content is going to be ready to interact with the author on an extremely personal level.

My personal favorite entry was about the trip to Ireland with her mother, something she promised her if she made it through cancer treatment. The fun and awkwardness of being on an adult trip with a parent you don't have a solid relationship with comes through clearly in only a few pages.

Of interest to other creators will be Anne's thoughts on making mini-comics. She likes the idea of having a complete whole, which I can understand, but also talks about how it leads to incomplete projects.

The last major entry is Anne's hourly comic, primarily revolving around a sex toy party she threw that night and how boring chronicling your life by the hour can be. I was pretty impressed that the quality of her art holds up through the entire hourly experiment.

Overall, this is a different approach to the idea of a journal comic, holding closer to the roots of a zine in the idea of a loose series of articles rather than strict daily entries. Anne's art mostly consists of head shots, but she uses them to good effect to keep the eye moving across the page and add to the text being presented. If you want to see what a visual zine can do, Booty would be a good place to start.

If you'd like a copy of Booty 22, you can pick one up at Black Light Diner Distro. [A copy of this comic was provided by the distributor for review. It was pretty easy, because I live with her.]

Solfege

Written by Fumi Yoshinaga
Illustrated by Fumi Yoshinaga
June Manga

[Note: Before I start this review, I think it's helpful to mention that I have read almost no Yaoi manga at this point in time. I think I might have read one or two here and there over the past few years, but I can't think of any off the top of my head.

Not because I don't like the idea, just because my manga reading was a little slim there for awhile. So some of what comes out of this review might show that inexperience. Please bear with me! -Rob]

If you follow my reviews at all, you will know I'm a fan of Fumi Yoshinaga, so when I saw this on the shelf at the library, it was definitely coming home with me. Yoshinaga has a ear for dialog that's almost always pitch-perfect and she likes to throw her characters in tricky situations and see what happens.

Soulfege is no exception. Kugayama is a spoiled rich kid who ends up as a closeted music teacher and pretty much fails to care about anything. When a former student comes to him for help getting into music school, Kugayama takes an unusual interest in the young man, leading to feelings he's not sure are reciprocated. Their relationship takes the inevitable path to the bedroom, leading to all sorts of complications when the secret gets loose.

What will happen to these two musical partners after their passions are revealed to the world? Will Yoshinaga give them a happy ending or take a cue from the operas the student Tanaka sings so well? The answer lies in the text, and you'll just have to read to find out!

Solfege takes its name from the word that is defined as musical studies and music features heavily in the story, as you might expect. Tanaka wants to get into an exclusive music school because it's his only real option. Kugayama teaches music in a school and the idea of a fine performance stands in at several points in the narrative for the feelings of the characters involved. Yoshinaga also emphasizes the link between passion in music and passion in one's personal life, which I thought was a nice touch. (After all, no matter how hard we try, we cannot separate our personal feelings from our actions.)

But the real music is in the story itself, carefully crafted by Yoshinaga. The plot is perfect for a one-and-done and follows the structure of an opera. We meet the characters, establish the conflict, things go right, then they go wrong, then it gets worse, and by the end, a resolution that closes the story. The ending might be a little too convenient, even for a fictional story, but I like the idea that Yoshinaga used the plotting style of opera to tell her story about two musical lovers.

As with any story she writes, there is a strong sense of character and dialog to fit that person's style. Kugayama is arrogant, disdainful, and often uncaring. It's not unusual for him to cut people, especially Tanaka, and his long list of failed lovers reflects this. Like a child, Tanaka is eager to learn but quick to be hurt even though he is obviously much older. He's comfortable in the submissive role, and it shows in his posture and remarks throughout the story.

The supporting cast get their own distinctive voices as well, from the fellow teacher to the astute student who's not afraid of Kugayama to the most prominent of Kugayama's ex-lovers. One of the things I like best about Yoshinaga's writing is that while she often has stock characters, they never feel like stock characters. She always tries to give them something to do.

One thing that did surprise me a bit was the frankness of the sexual situations. Yoshinaga doesn't show much, but the dialog definitely gets fairly heated. Honestly, it's nice to see gay sexual situations treated so normally and matter of fact. Plus, the idea of the issues in age and frequency of sex were pretty damned funny. (Like I should expect otherwise from Yoshinaga?) My only qualm is with the equality of the partners, but from what I understand, that's sort of a theme in yaoi, so I guess I'll be seeing that a lot.

Artistically, this is a pretty standard Yoshinaga work. The characters have her usual design of soft faces with eyes that tell most of their emotions. I did notice that she seemed to use the cartoon exaggeration face a bit more here than I'm used to from her. There's not a lot in the way of backgrounds, just a few simple props to set the stage. Reading a Yoshinaga manga is like watching a stage play--you're there for the interplay of characters, not the lavish settings.

If you like Yoshinaga's other works (and if you don't, I'm not sure we can be friends) and are not offended by overtly sexual references, then you'll definitely like this one-shot manga, as it features all of her best writing traits in one simple volume. I think it would be a good place to start if you don't know much about yaoi manga, but since *I* don't know much about yaoi manga, I'm a little leery to say that. For whatever it's worth, it's made me want to read more, and that's always a good thing, no matter what the title. Solfege is like a good piece of music--you'll want to listen to the interplay of Yoshinaga's characters again and again.

Panel Patter Will Return after This...

Hey All!

I should have known better than to try and update on one of the 8 busy weeks at work, so please excuse the lack of reviews this past week.

I'm offline for a few more days for a business trip, but waiting in airports gives me plenty of time to catch up on my reading. I'll be tweeting about my reading as I go, so if you're on Twitter, check out @panelpatter and see what I'm doing on my downtime.

See you all on the other side of my birthday (January 12th)!


(Your traveling reviewer trying out for the Blackhawks courtesy of MS Paint and my wife, Erica. You can check out her zine and mini-comic distro, Black Light Diner, while I'm away!)

Umm...I know they're cutting costs everywhere these days, but I hope I get a better ride to my conference!

After School Nightmare Volume 1

Written by Setona Mizushiro
Illustrated by Setona Mizushiro
Go! Comi

It's kinda strange that I'd read two books with similar concepts so close to one another. Like Click, which I hated, this manga focuses on a boy who has to deal with the fact that he's really a girl.

The similarities end there, however, as Mizushiro takes the book in an entirely different direction, focusing on the idea of identity while giving the book a hint of horror, making for a compelling and complex read.

High School student Ichijo Mashiro has a secret only he knows--he's effectively a hermaphrodite, only the split is top and bottom. He's finally reached the age where this secret can't be kept much longer, but he's doing his best, dropping out of physical activities and staying to himself.

That all changes the day he's escorted by a school nurse to an area of the facility he's never seen before. It's time for his graduation training, she explains. The preparation? Entering a shared nightmare world where the darkest secrets of the participants are revealed to all involved. Soon Mashiro's shame is exposed to select classmates, including one he wishes to avoid.

The only way out of this nightmare is to find the key to solving the psychological problem that got you there in the first place. But only one can do so at a time, and so the nightmare world becomes a cutthroat game where dying only wakes you up--but the mental scars remain. Worse, despite requirements to the contrary, the issues from the basement resurface in the normal classroom world, leading to ever more complex relationships between the students.

How can Mashiro free himself from his dilemma when he can't even face the reality of his own body? And what of the other classmates that Mashiro recognizes from the dreams? Will their desires trump his? Can he be trapped in this nightmare world forever?

Those are just some of the questions that Mizushiro brings up in the first volume, giving all sorts of reasons for a reader to be hooked into wanting to read more. Some might be interested in the mystery of the dream world. Others might want to see how the tried and true love triangle that's set up in this volume.

Personally, it's the nature of perceived identity that really hooked me. I want to see how Mashiro reconciles his desire to be a man with the fact that he cannot, truly, be one. I will admit it was bit offputting at first that he feels being a girl is weak, but placing it in context, if you were raised a boy with all the stereotypes that come with it, how would you feel? Getting over this mental block will, I think, unlock the key to getting out of the nightmares.

But it won't be easy. Mashiro will get no help from Sou, who seems to revel in torturing him. Learning that Mashiro has bigger problems only makes matters worse. The nurse involved in administering the class offers no pointers, and is perfectly cast as a cipher that will offer no solution to the problems for Mashiro and the others in the nightmare.

Perhaps the most intriguing part of the puzzle is Kureha. She's in the nightmare, too, but seems to welcome the companionship of Mashiro, drawing them closer together in both planes. Will this help or hurt our protagonist? I can't tell yet, but I want to know the answer. That's another strong storytelling element from Mizushiro--all of the mysteries are placed here in the first volume, but instead of feeling overcrowded with plot points, the mix seems just right for the reader.

Artistically, Mizushiro is quite adept at portraying the normal turned on its ear by the nightmares endured by the children in the special class. I particularly liked a scene involving a character hiding in a closet. I was able to feel the terror of the people involved just by looking at the page. She is also good at making sure you can tell each main character apart, which I appreciate. (I realize I say this often in my review of a book's art, but I can't stand it when I have to keep flipping to tell who is who.) Obviously, due to the subject nature, there are gay scenes as well, but Mizushiro does not try to sensationalize them. Lastly, her students-as-monsters character designs are pretty cool. They get the point across without being too gory.

Any potential reader should be aware that this is a very mature shojo title. There are quite a few sexual themes and references, not all of them consensual. However, they are not gratuitous--Mizushiro uses them to advance the story, not to get a reaction out of the reader.

After School Nightmare is exactly the type of manga I am really enjoying reading right now. It's intelligent, makes the reader think, and provides strong characters that I am interested in following from volume to volume. If you want a more mature shojo read, definitely check this book out. I think you'll be glad you did.

Marvel Boy

Written by Grant Morrison
Illustrated by J.G. Jones, Ryan Kelly, and Sean Parsons
Marvel

I'm sure the marketing guys at Marvel didn't take long to realize this one should be dug out of the vault and placed into trade form. "Hey, it's a comic from Grant Morrison and his art partner from Final Crisis! Let's get this into a hardcover, stat!"

I'm not going to argue, though, because more Grant Morrison in trade form is a good thing. Even the weakest Morrison stuff is interesting to read and when he's off doing strange things--and this book is decidedly strange--it's a fun trip.

In this book that probably shouldn't be in continuity but apparently is, Noh-Varr, a Kree warrior who was part of a mission into the time stream, crash-lands on an earth that I don't think Morrison intended to be the 616 version. (Oh well.)

Noh-Varr encounters an evil man called Doctor Midas, who has a lusting after anything alien and lives in an Iron Man suit. He's got a daughter that he keeps in fetish gear and control over all sorts of alien technology. Naturally, with Skrulls and others in his collection, a Kree would be a nice catch. But Noh-Varr breaks free and soon has his own ideas about the planet he's stranded on.

After clashing with S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Dum Dum Dugan and some super-soliders with the features of Captain America and the Hulk, Noh-Varr battles a living corporation in the most Morrison-y part of the narrative. Then it's a three-issue, knock-down, drag out fight between Noh-Varr and Midas, with his daughter in the middle. Who will survive when everything from Mindless Ones to the powers of the Fantastic Four are unleashed in the battle? The answers probably won't surprise you but the way in which Morrison gets there just might.

This is one of those stories that plays to Morrison's strength--the use of years and years of a comic book company's history without being tied down to particulars. (Think Seven Soldiers, which I believe came just a bit after this in terms of original publication.) The hints of the Marvel we know are all around the book, but they never end up front and center. The only character that we see for sure is Dugan, and I'm not convinced that he's our Dugan. Yet there is no doubt this world has superheroes, as Midas tries to get what he cannot have--the power of those who can go to the stars.

In fact, I think that in some way, Morrison was commenting on the idea of a fan's relation to the source material here. Perhaps I'm way off, but consider this for a moment.

Midas is the perfect stand-in for the fanboy taken to the extreme. He even names his daughter after a torture device and puts her in a costume that is almost a parody of fetish. He collects items relating to superhuman power and has changed his name to be more fitting to his desires. Midas says he can turn anything to his advantage, but in the end, cannot control the emotions of those around him. He can imagine himself Iron Man or the Thing, but is really a pale imitation. He is the reader who must try to control the stories being written around him and flails when they do not go his way. (I can see myself in that to a certain extent, so I'm not passing judgment on the idea.)

Nor-Varr, by contrast, has a singular vision and metes it out on the universe, like a comic creator taking on a new series. He mows down the amalgamated old heroes and shows Midas who has control. Even the ending has the sense that Nor-Varr can perform his desired changes on this earth at all, like Morrison can change the way his characters act or talk. Nor-Varr mentions time and again that he has a vision, and nothing will stop him until this earth is the center of a new empire ruled by his plans.

Perhaps I'm reading a bit too much into things, but given the meta-textural nature of much of Morrison's comics, I think there's something to this line of thinking. Even if that's not the case, the struggle between old and new is clear on every page.

I mentioned that the third issue was the most Morrison-like, and that's because he invents a living corporation that goes from planet to planet, taking over and leaving its host a husk. Now that's been done before with the Brood, the Borg, and many others, but this is more about Morrison using comics to show off real-life problems in such a blatant way that I'm a bit surprised it got published. The solution to the problem is part guns, part industrial espionage and all genius.

While he may not be the fastest artist going (he wasn't able to finish this mini without inking help, so why DC was surprised when Final Crisis was late is beyond me), J.G. Jones' art is really pretty to look at. His details and ability to portray anything Morrison comes up with is really impressive. He even takes the time to draw intricate image reflections on the Iron Man suit worn by Midas. How many artists would do that? Morrison keeps the pace frantic and Jones responds with some of the best artwork I've seen in the widescreen style. No matter whether he's drawing homages, amalgamations or sneaking DC characters into the background, Jones is one fine comic artist. I'd love to see him do a mainstream Marvel book some time, if DC ever gets tired of using for their big-ticket crossovers.

This is not Morrison's best work but it hits on all the themes that make a Morrison story work--questioning the status quo, throwing the reader's perceptions off, and villains who think they're better than everyone. (Is Doctor Midas any different from Darkseid at his heart?) Combined with gorgeous art from Jones, it's a good book for Morrison fans that may have been overlooked because of the subject matter. Like I said, it may have been a marketing ploy, but either way, I'm happy Marvel reprinted this and I think you will be to, after reading it.

Essential Human Torch Volume 1

Written by Stan Lee and others
Illustrated by Jack Kirby, Dick Ayers, and others
Marvel

Once upon a time, Marvel was thinking of shutting down the Essentials line. When I as told this, I was very worried that this edition would never see the light of day. It seemed a no-brainer to me, but apparently not to Marvel, as they instead gave us Essential Ant Man before Johnny Storm's early adventures got their own book.

This is a Johnny Storm that's still too young to be able to keep out from under Sue's watchful eye, batting future long-time foes the Wizard, the Trapster (as Paste Pot Pete, one of my all time favorite "Stan, what were you thinking?" names), and Sandman. It seems like the Frightful Four basically leaped off the pages of Strange Tales. To a lesser extent, Plantman and the Beetle reappear as the Marvel stable of villains is still fairly limited at this point. We also get the real Beatles, in a funny set piece that shows the power of the Ben-Johnny relationship, when written properly.

Interestingly enough, after awhile, Johnny loses his solo spot and has to team up with the Thing, who, despite original plans, was fast becoming a fan favorite. He's all over this thing, no pun intended, trading quips, punches, and eventually, foes. Marvel will later give him over 100 issues of spotlighting, but Ben Grimm in the early 60s wasn't the star of the Fantastic Four--not yet, anyway.

There's also another guest star that crops up from time to time--some guy who spins webs for a living. He gets one co-billing in an annual that really sparks the Peter-Johnny relationship, though it's clear that Stan has a preference for the old web head. And of course, Johnny also gets to battle Namor a time or two, some Doom henchmen, and even the Puppet Master. One of the many false Caps shows up, too, a trial balloon for a famous reappearance.

I found it interesting that going all the way back to these stories, Reed Richards can be a dick. You'll know what I mean as soon as you read it. Maybe Reed's Civil War actions weren't as far off as I originally thought.

These stories are pretty good for the time period. As with all Marvel stories from the early 1960s, there's some bumps and bruises that feel really hokey for modern reader. Plus, Jack Kirby is clearly stretched too thin, as his artwork is not up to his usual quality. The art actually gets a bit better when he moves on, I think. One nice touch was a story done by the original human torch artist from the 40s. Dick Ayers isn't bad at penciling, I'm not sure if I've seen him do it elsewhere.

If you are a fan of older Marvel work, this is a must read. I'm just glad that Essentials got around to printing it. Fans of the Human Torch of today might also find it interesting to see that Johnny was quite a bit weaker in those days. Essential Human Torch is a great bit of comics history at a nice price.

Futurama Volume 1: Futurama-o-Rama

Written by Eric Rogers
Illustrated by James Lloyd, Tom King, Pam Cooke, Steve Steere, Jr., and Phyllis Novin
Bongo

[From the archives. I never found any other Futurama collections to see if/how things improved. -Rob]

Bongo Comics has been around for over 10 years now, which is a bit hard to believe. Then again, the Simpsons have been on long enough for there to be high school students students that weren't even born when I was doing the Bartman. (Yeah, I did the Bartman, I'm not ashamed to admit it. Played the heck out of the arcade game, too.) At any rate, somewhere about the turn of the century, Bongo started a Futurama comic line. Was it any good?

This collection is of the first few issues, all written by the same person. Unlike the Simpsons Comics, which tend to parody the genre and keep to short, punchy pieces, these are all feature length stories, and the joke often can't keep up the humor over 22 pages.

First up is a horror plot, with Fry finding an old time capsule with stuff from 1979, complete with a Sea Monkeys ad. Naturally, he tries to buy them, but they're a dud, as with much of the corny things advertised in those days. But careful how you throw them away! It's a bit of a nostalgia kick but I didn't think the jokes were that funny, and the rest of the 70s stuff got lost along the way.

Next, two aliens resembling a famous 1950s TV couple try to steal the secrets of Planet Express. Again, very short on gags. It would have been a passable episode but doesn't work in panels. This one needed more cameos, I think, to help the joke along. Alien Dick Van Dyke, anyone?

The third issue is the best of the bunch, with Leela fighting Amy's Mom over collectible aliens and Bender becoming a partner in a flea market booth. Zoidberg even gets to save the day against Vampires! The jokes work better and it feels more cohesive, but maybe it's just because I've been to one too many flea markets over the years.

Last in this collection is a bad war story with Zapp Brannigan turning to the wrong side in a war and getting very, very fat. Unfortunately, that idea just isn't very funny, at least to me.

Overall, I just don't see enough quality here to make me want to buy a Futurama comic, though I'd read another library trade, in the hopes that, like the show, the writing gets better as they go along.

I can understand they may have wanted a different take on doing the comic, but the variety of writers and short lengths in Simpson (and Bart Simpson) comics never lets the reader spend too much time thinking over what's going on. Given 22 pages, the funny premise has to be really solid. Unfortunately, for me it just wasn't there in most of these issues.

Futurama the tv show grew on me over time. I would imagine the comic would as well. I just can't see myself buying them anytime soon, however. This collection is probably only necessary for the hard-core Futurama fans.

Bleach Volume 1

Written by Tite Kubo
Illustrated by Tite Kubo
Viz

I have no idea why I started watching the Bleach anime a few months back, but I did. It turned out to be pretty cool, too, with characters I found fun to follow and a good balance of comedy versus action.

Usually I read the manga first before sampling the anime but in this case I did not. I think I was a bit concerned that as a Shonen Jump title, the manga might be skewed a bit too young for my taste.

But after checking around, I was told that was not the case, so I finally got it out from the library. I need another new series to start like I need a hole in my head, but hey, it's 2010 so why not start it off with a long-running shonen title to get me out of my shojo-seinen comfort zone?

Bleach is the story of a teen who can see ghosts. He lives with them every day and doesn't think a whole lot of it. One day, a strange girl shows up telling him he can't possibly do this, despite all appearances to the contrary. You see, she's a soul reaper, and she takes good souls to their reward while fighting those lost souls who wish to prey upon the living.

Ichigo, a fiery redhead with a temper to match, refuses to just stay put when one of these lost souls (or hollows) goes after his family. Soon he's right in the thick of the battle, and ends up with the powers of a soul reaper. There's only one problem--he doesn't want them!

Now powerless, the original soul reaper, Rukia, joins Ichigo's world, much to his chagrin. (This sets up the tried and true love-hate relationship dynamic so common to most of the manga I read.) As more hollows come Ichigo's way, he must make a decision. Will he help carry on Rukia's mission? With his school friends in the way of supernatural danger, does he have a choice?

One of the fun parts of reading the manga and watching the anime is seeing the differences between the two. In this version, the soul reapers are (at least for now) a much more beneficial organization as Rukia explains that even killing hollows is a mercy. (In the anime, they seem far more sinister from the get-go, as do the hollows themselves.) As a result, Ichigo seems more of a
jerk for being reluctant to help. I also noticed that people seem far more comfortable with the supernatural than they did in the anime. The weird goings-on appear to be a bit less of a surprise, and I'll be interested to see how that aspect of the show plays out over time.

As far as the manga itself goes, I was quite pleased with the pacing and storytelling of Kubo. There's a lot of fun banter even in the face of danger, but Kubo also handles the serious moments with great skill, such as Orihime facing her brother. I think the character progression of Ichigo also makes this a winner. He's an uncaring teen at the start, but by the end of even this first volume we are starting to see changes.

Plus there's the silly stuff. Like Orihime talking about how she regularly gets hit by cars or Ichigo's father's Ranma-like insistence on attacking his son. While things are not quite as exaggerated, the tone of the book does have a Rumiko Takahashi influence. That's certainly not a bad thing!

Surprisingly, Kubo does not do too many exaggerated characters in the book. Most of the artwork is pretty straightforward, except for the monsters and of course Ichigo's sword. I had no trouble at all following the action, as sometimes happens in this kind of story. I was really impressed by how clean the art was, actually, as that was another thing I worried about before starting the series.

Bleach is definitely fun, with just the right pacing of action and comedy that makes for a good shonen story (in my limited experience). I will definitely keep reading and would recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it yet but is looking for a new shonen title to try. (I have a feeling I'm one of the few people who hasn't at least tried this yet.) I just have one question--why the heck do they call this series Bleach, anyway? Will I ever find out?

Solomon Kane Volume 1: The Castle of the Devil

Written by Scott Allie
Illustrated by Mario Guevara
Dark Horse

Long time readers of my reviews in various places know that I am a huge fan of Robert E. Howard's work. Why this particular pulp writer and not Lovecraft or some other creator I'm not sure, though I tend to think it's because of Howard's sense of alienation from others which comes out in nearly all of his characters. That's something I can relate to and, for me at least, helps put Howard's writing above his peers.

Anytime there's a new Howard-based comic, I'm interested, though now I wait for the trade. I grabbed this off the shelf at my local comic book store a little bit ago, and opted to make it my first read of 2010.

For those who aren't familiar with him, Solomon Kane is a typical Howard character--a loner, cast out from his group, wandering around and seeing what fate has in store for him. Kane is a Puritan, so in his case, he is convinced the Lord is sending him challenges.

The Castle of the Devil, taken from a Howard fragment, finds Kane in the Black Woods of Germany (where some of my ancestors came from, so I found the setting pretty cool). After a typical Kane scrape, he meets up with a fellow Englishman and spends some time at the castle of a strange Baron, who lives above the ruins of an old abbey with a terrible secret. Kane finds the castle not at all to his liking and cannot get a fix on why. Is the problem the Baron? His Muslim wife? He cannot leave without knowing why God has placed him here. Meanwhile, Kane's companion is no man of virtue and his plots may very well take Kane down with him.

Before long, the answer of why he's here comes to Kane and he's out to battle demons as part of the Lord's plan for him. Can a man of sword and primitive pistol take down an unholy set of creatures bent on living sacrifices, and led by a person who reads from a forbidden book? The answer lies in the story, but even if he wins, Kane can't help but feel a bit empty about the results of his actions.

Unfortunately, after read this one, I feel a bit empty as well. There's nothing wrong with this story as presented by Allie as far as the plot itself goes. Working from a fragment, Allie manages to keep the pulp sensibilities (right down to a dislike of the foreign) of a 1930s story without it seeming blatantly racist. The villain is well played, the horror is nice and scary, and the ending is bittersweet in a manner that fits a Howard story.

The problem is that, for me at least, his sense of Solomon Kane is completely wrong. In Allie's hands, Kane is a single-minded puritan who feels he is doing God's work. He never looks past the edge of his hooked nose and would be gleeful at the idea of a witch hunt. He revels in his actions, looking only for more foes of God to smite. In other words, he's like a young Conan but substituting treasure for a heavenly reward.

Howard's Kane, however, is constantly conflicted. He feels that violence is abhorrent to the Lord but does it anyway time and time again. Kane refuses pleasure, yet knows that secretly he loves nothing more than to get into a battle and kill those who are ungodly in his eyes. He is a walking contradiction in Howard, but under Allie he's a one-man army of God. I just didn't care for the presentation, because for me, the complications of Kane's life is what makes him worth following. Without it, he's just another action hero, just set in Colonial times. Worse, because he's a puritan and a racist, if he has no interesting qualities, he's just a jerk.

And boy does he come off as a jerk here. Kane waffles between hate and love for the Baron over and over, dismisses John Silent at every turn, and refuses to see the evidence of his own eyes. By the end, I'm far more interested in Silent's next adventure, because while he may be unsavory, he at least has a heart.

I think part of the problem stems from using fragments rather than whole stories. Both this and the next Kane story solicited by Dark Horse are working off story fragments. That means Allie has to do a lot of the heavy lifting. It's probably better to let the character grow in your hands after showing what the original writer intended first. Giving us a longer original Kane story would have grounded him better, I think.

Allie is not assisted in any way by artist Mario Guevara. While Dark Horse might like him, I found his artwork to be stilted, stiff, and completely without flow. His characters all seem caught in the act of having their photo taken by a 19th Century camera, even when they are supposed to be moving. Placements and body language aren't to my liking either, as the Baron's wife looked more like a nun than a seducer.

Instead of helping the story go from page to page, it felt like I kept ending up at a full stop. The choice of camera angles for the action shots also didn't do anything for me. Kane often looked like he could care less what he was doing. If this was intentional, I think it was a mistake.

However, I think the worst problem is that Kane comes off looking like an elf. In the first few pages, I actually thought he was a demon! He's colored to look like a vampire in the entire book, which drove me crazy. Someone online said Kane looks more like Elric, and I think that's accurate. It was very distracting--pale doesn't mean he's a zombie. In their effort to get Howard's description across, I think they went overboard.

A last note on the art is Dark Horse's belief that pencil to color is a good idea. I've said it before and I'll say it again that the inker is an important part of the comic creation process. Setting up shadows, giving the impression of depth, and emphasizing the work of the pencil artist goes a long way to making a book look like a cohesive whole. I'm not sure why they don't agree.

Overall, this first trade of Solomon Kane just failed on too many levels for me to enjoy it. I'd have gotten past the writing with gorgeous art. I'd have gotten past the art with a strong script that echoed Howard or made me want to like the main character. Unfortunately, I didn't get either out of this one, so I can't recommend it. If you're intrigued by Solomon Kane as a character, however, I urge you to seek out a Robert E. Howard short story collection and see for yourself the complications inherent in the character that are missing here. Dark Horse is usually pretty good at adaptations, but on this one, I'll pass.