Star Trek: Voyager #1

Star Trek: Voyager #1, November 1996, Marvel Comics
writer: Laurie S. Sutton
artist: Jesus Redondo
letterer: Chris Eliopoulos
colorist: John Kalisz
editor: Bobbie Chase
EIC: Bob Harris

Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, January 19, 2008.

On Saturday, January 19, I had the privilege to go where few fans have gone before. Star Trek: The Tour began its multi-city voyage in Long Beach, California this weekend, and my girlfriend scored me a pair of tickets for Christmas. Now, I've been an admitted Trekkie since I saw the Next Generation episode "Remember Me," which was actually an excellent jumping on point, considering Dr. Crusher's frantic recollections of the series' core characters as they seemingly disappear from existence. I was instantly fascinated by Roddenberry's idealistic future, and just as intrigued by the complexities of his characters, which have coincidentally been the dual, timeless strengths accounting for Trek's forty-year success in the first place. As a fledgling geek, I was hooked.

Alas, I hadn't mustered much interest for the original series, let alone Deep Space Nine and Voyager, until some years later, when The Next Generation went the way of "All Good Things . . ." and my life had a vividly Trek-shaped hole to fill. The "OS" will always have a special place in my heart as the bold series that started it all, but, thanks to my newly acquired DirecTV DVR, Voyager is rapidly becoming my second favorite of the franchise. Its concept takes the "boldly going" thing to a whole new level, stranding its characters in the distant, never explored Delta Quadrant, which also epitomizes a sense of isolation most Trek fans must feel from time to time. Sure, fan clubs and conventions offer Trekkies an exclusive sense of community, but where else can you wear your homemade Starfleet uniform? Who else will understand a statement like, "Come on, don't go all Quark on me with these prices!" Touring Star Trek around the country is the equivalent to touring a band everyone's heard of but only a few people will actually go and see.

So, what better way to celebrate the day than to review Star Trek: Voyager #1, the perfect combination of my Trekkie tryst and "number one issue" series? I own and have read a few TNG comics, mostly published by DC, but otherwise I've generally avoided Trek comics in the past, specifically because of the trappings presented in this Voyager #1. In this inaugural issue, Voyager and her crew attempt to help a Talaxian ship trapped in a dense asteroid field, and when their tractor beam fails in the face of the field's ionic storm, they venture forward to attempt a transporter evacuation. In the end, the Talaxians disappear, much to the Voyager crew's horror, but most likely to the aliens' delight, since their leader's "You know what to do" directive reveals a more sinister plan. Of course, this issue takes the entire twenty-two page story to get there, with a brief holodeck picnic interlude to establish a bit of characterization.

Unfortunately, even the asteroid field's ionic storm isn't enough to spark the kind of interest Captain Janeway and her crew deserve. The holodeck respite is an interesting interlude, and Lt. Paris's casual attitude is present and accounted for (calling Janeway their "fearless leader" in Raphael-to-Leonardo fashion), but the other characters are practically interchangeable in personality, simply sharing their mutual motivation to pass the time before they get home. The rest of the issue is primarily engineering jargon via dramatic character blocking and pseudo-suspenseful starship action, which normally works on my television screen . . . but not on the comic book page. I almost feel sorry for artist Jesus Redondo, as he tries his best to make Harry Kim look compelling, punching buttons at his ops station. He should be commended for capturing the look of each actor so well, while instilling a unique personification of their respective characters, to boot, but I wish he had more to work with. Tuvok swinging a baseball bat is a far cry from hand-to-hand combat with the Borg.

Really, for its first issue, that's what Voyager should have given us: each character's individual strengths in the face of a mutual adversary, versus this bridge-to-engineering formula that often works best for those filler TV episodes between the more plot-advancing epics. Yes, while I really like the Voyager TV series, I'm wondering how many episodes actually proactively tackle their attempts to get home? The frequent distractions are expected and necessary, and the persistent Borg threat is thrilling and fan-pleasing, but Victorian romps on the holodeck? Body-leeching alien parasites? Fun, fluffy filler between the real stuff, I say! When a comic book series starts with such fluff, you can speculate on how soon it will get home, I reckon.

Also, just another note of criticism: this issue's opening act two-page splash featured the Talaxian ship, not the Voyager. Further, any sequences featuring external views of the ship are entertaining, but not as effective as the real thing -- in other words, we see this stuff in comics all the time, so the "wow factor" is best saved for the screen. With a first issue hinging around Voyager "mounting" the Talaxian ship with its landing gear, I can't imagine a future issue featuring narrative from the Delta Flyer's point of view being too far behind, you know? (Yes, Voyager looks like she's humping the Talaxian ship. I know it's lonely out there in the Delta Quadrant, but come on!)

Needless to say, after experiencing much of the Trek universe firsthand thanks to Star Trek: The Tour, this issue had handicap from the get-go. Still, if the tour proved anything, it's Trek's ability to conquer any medium -- even comics. IDW is finally getting it right, and I can't wait to dive into its latest TNG miniseries, the first issue of which hit the stands last week. You can rest assured the ensigns in that series won't be wearing capes, like in DC's first TNG miniseries back in '88. Also, though I haven't read it yet, I'm betting the true charm of the series will come from its excavation of the characters' quirks and personalities. Indeed, the likes of Picard, Riker, Data, and the rest seem to offer as much vast possibilities as even the most uncharted reaches of space. That's where any Star Trek comic needs to boldly go if the franchise's timelessness is to remain intact.

Addendum: Here are a few Voyager-related pics from Star Trek: The Tour. A more comprehensive review of the tour will be posted at my other blog soon enough!

Rust #1

Rust #1, April 1992, Adventure Comics
writer/colorist: Steve Miller
penciller: Phillip Hester
inker: Ande Parks
letterer: Joseph Allen
editor: Dan Danko
EIC: Chris Ulm

Blogger's note: Entry for Friday, January 18, 2008.

Sometimes you have to wonder what's going to stick.

As I was reading Rust #1, and thinking about how I would summarize its story in a few simple sentences, I couldn't help but recognize its similarities to another creator-owned series published around the same time. Consider, in Rust, a straight-laced cop is caught in a horrific accident and presumed dead; however, when he comes back to life, he finds himself terribly disfigured and his wife in the arms of his best friend. Therefore, he does what anyone would do in such a tragic situation: he begins to live off the streets, embracing his peculiar powers and becoming something of a hobo hero.

Sound familiar? Yes, replace "cop" with "soldier," and you're remarkably close to Todd McFarlane's ground-breaking Spawn. Interestingly, an ad for Spawn graces Rust's inside back cover, as if the publishers were trying to say, "If you liked this comic, you're sure to like this one, too." Of course, if that really was their meaning, we now where their good intentions landed them. Again, with two titles orbiting similar premises, sometimes you have to wonder what's going to stick.

Of course, Rust boasts some notable differences from Spawn. For example, though this title offers a new origin for Miller's title character, it isn't Rust's first appearance. Miller is careful to document his hero's previous appearances in a thorough back page bibliography. Rust was originally published by Now Comics and experienced two short lives volumes before the company declared bankruptcy in 1991 and Miller, with Malibu Comics' help (Adventure's parent company), won back the rights to his character. The inclusion of this "Collector's Guide" is an interesting choice considering Miller's adamant introduction proclaiming, "To those who have met Scott Baker before, forget what you know." Hard to do that when every previous issue is summarized after this new lead story, eh?

Still, Rust's latest incarnation offers interesting, unique quirks that create a definitive take on the "resurrected civil servant" shtick. For example, Officer Baker didn't really die but was actually comatose while a liquid rust fused his skin with junkyard metal, under the suspiciously knowing, watchful eye of the yard's resident Junkman. Also, the kiss Rust happened to catch between his wife and best friend Jerry was an accidental one, shared only in a moment of mutual grief. Miller is sure to have Jerry tell Mrs. Baker, "Oh, wait. I just kissed you because I wanted you to feel better . . . I do love you, but not like that." I'm glad I don't have friends like that! Still, when Rust inevitably encounters Jerry later in the series, the reader will have the whole story and will know that Baker's anger is unfounded, instilling a flaw in his still-tragic heroism.

Makes you wonder, is every disfigured hero destined to spy his loved ones denouncing him through his living room window? Spawn, Rust, even the ever-lovin', blue-eyed Thing -- these guys didn't buy blinds when they had the human hands to hang them? But I digress . . .

Finally, Rust boasts an early collaboration of Phillip Hester and Ande Parks, who later achieved acclaim under Kevin Smith's Green Arrow. I don't know when Hester and Parks began their careers, though I have enjoyed a fair share of their solo efforts before, but a combination of elements here betrays the blossoming maturity of their work, from Miller's coloring to the issue's overall production value. Stark black and white might have been a better choice to emphasize mood and make their angular visuals really pop, or if not then crisper color separations . . . even those slicker pages that became all the rage in the early '90s might've helped. Instead, if I hadn't seen this issue's publication date, I might've assumed Rust was originally circulated in the mid-'80s. Well, actually, it was, but perhaps this newer version had yet to shake free a few of those lingering ghosts.

Yet, as first issues go, I enjoyed Rust. I was grateful to know that Miller was starting me off on the ground floor, as he put it, and that he had a long-standing passion for the character. Hester and Parks' potential was brewing under those unavoidable visual flaws, and in some panels their heights were already achieved. Rust as a character is a sympathetic hero, mired in an archetype but still interesting as the personification of America's industrial wreckage. If Miller tried another go at him, I wonder if Officer Baker would be covered in old iPhone parts. Still, caught in the shadow of the more popular Spawn, it's best that Rust remains in the annals of back issue bins. There, he can be rediscovered, and with the benefit of time behind him, earn nostalgic acclaim . . . and his name.

Anubis #1

Anubis #1, July 1995, SCC Entertainment
by Scott Berwanger

Have you ever watched a television show, seen a movie, or read a book that consumed a significant amount of time, only to realize when the experience was over that you could easily sum up said experience in a simple sentence? I felt that way this past Monday with the Prison Break midseason premiere; after several episodes’ worth of arduous planning, our heroes’ plight seemingly took a turn for the worse when a new warden captured the craftily tattooed Michael and isolated him in an apparently plastic-wrapped hot box. In the premiere, though, things briefly turned in his favor, as the warden attempted to single-handedly solve the mystery of Lincoln’s framing, L.J.’s abduction, and Whistler’s breakout. Of course, as the only one that could vouch for Michael’s story, the warden dies, just like the dozens of comic book characters that discovered the hero’s secret identity a few fatal moments too late.

It wasn’t the waste of an episode that got me, though. It was the series’ writers brazen summation of their entire two and a half seasons to date -- some fifty episodes -- in Michael’s succinct plea to the warden. To paraphrase: “Listen, man, a shadow government framed my brother so I would develop the skills to break him out of jail; now that I have, they’ve stuck me in this impenetrable Panama prison to break out one of their men.” Well, that takes the breath right out of my three year commitment! I could’ve jumped in just last Monday and spared myself many weeks of nail-biting suspense.

I know. Getting there is all the fun. But you know what I mean.

I felt much the same way after reading Anubis, a mid-‘90s independent venture by Scott Berwanger and SCC Entertainment. From his first splash page, I was taken by his intricate art style and strategic use of ink and shadow. From his first verbose series of narrative captions, I could tell that Berwanger was trying to establish a grandiose world of medieval fantasy, one that preserved its protagonists’ sense of pride and nobility as much as it fostered the spoils and innocence of youth. Imminent conflict was gracefully established as a warring force loomed just over the hill, a threat that became as palpable to the comic’s readers as its characters. Though this first chapter was a meager fifteen pages, I felt it did just what was needed to rope me in to a dynamic story . . .

. . . until Berwanger clearly explained that Anubis was his first creative foray into comics, and that, as good as he is in issue one, he’s bound to get better. Independent artists have often utilized the space traditionally reserved for correspondence and broken through the proverbial fourth wall to explain their “process,” undoubtedly in a promotional attempt to establish a connection with the reader or a personality to the work. Heck, I’m guilty of it, as are many creators I’ve been proud to meet in my years on the small press circuit. I like a well written supplemental essay, but the challenge of self-promotion is to remain just that side of line, lest one’s persistent plugging becomes pragmatic pride. “My comic is so awesome, and you’d be stupid not to keep reading it, so you can say you were with it from these humble beginnings!” Berwanger skated this line, and while I understand his motives, his methods pulled me out of the world he had so labored to establish.

Further, Berwanger made the claim, “The emergence of independent material in comics has probably been the single most important factor in the maturity of the art form to date.” While I might agree with him, the fact that he offers such a theory as the thesis for his inspiration and participation in the medium makes his intent suspect. Further, to play devil’s advocate, I’m sure that, for every innovation piece of independent comic book storytelling, another piece negates such advances with either shameless pandering to the past or subpar writing or artwork. In other words, how many indie ventures are simply glorified fan fiction? Is every piece of chicken scratch copied and bound at Kinko’s as valid a contribution to the comics market as Cerebus or Bone, to cite Berwanger’s examples? These questions don’t have textbook answers and can be debated ad nauseam. (Some of them are on message boards, I’m sure.) My point isn’t to prove Berwanger right or wrong, but to show that the argument really can go either way.

So, did I like Anubis? I did like it, right up to the point where I was told I should. I’m sure this wasn’t the creator’s intent, but over a decade after this issue saw its first print run, it’s the impression that I get. Fifteen pages, one sentence: A dying king bestows the care of his prince to his closest friend and most trusted associate on the eve of his death and impending war. Maybe Berwanger intended to establish this story as an allegory for the legacy of corporate comics, and its heir, the indie scene. Or, maybe, I’m too set in my ways to see it any other way. That’s a different kind of prison break completely unto itself.

WWWednesday: Alpha Monkey

WWWednesday: Alpha Monkey
website: http://www.zudacomics.com/node/101
by Howard Shum, Barry Presh, Matteo Scalera, Oscar Celestini

Every Wednesday, A Comic A Day boldly diverts from the printed page to read and review a different webcomic, examining at least its first, previous, and current installments. If you have a webcomic you'd like A Comic A Day to review, please e-mail me with a link to and a synopsis of your work. Put "Review my webcomic!" in the subject line so I don't mistake your request for spam . . . unless your comic is really called "A Gift from the Prince of Nigeria," in which case, tell me more!

Sometimes I'll look up a writer or an artist after I've reviewed their comic book to see if I'd be interested in their other works. When I did so for Howard Shum, writer/inker of Fat Boy and Harvey #1, which I reviewed a few days ago, I discovered that the sketches on the back cover of that very issue, featuring a character design for Alpha Monkey that I liked but wrote off as space filler, have evolved into a web-based comic strip. The concept for Shum's strip isn't hard to derive from those few, simple sketches, depicting a boy flying in a makeshift superhero suit, then wearing a monkey mask in plainclothes; obviously, this kid lives among monkeys that mistake his humanity for super powers, right?

Close. "Hitch" is an egotistical elementary school student stranded in Ookopolis that has acquired special powers by eating local bananas, an amusing twist on the whole Superman/yellow sun shtick. In this introductory, eight page strip, Hitch is picked on Peter Parker style until the Alpha Monkey alert flare summons him to fight an interdimensional cheese monster, despite General Grawl's protests. Yet, apparently, if Hitch continues to protect the city against these occasional oversized threats, scientists will help him get home . . . which makes one wonder how the scientists know the threats would be over in the first place. "You did it, Alpha Monkey! Good-bye! Oh, crap, is that a giant ear wax monster? Get Alpha Monkey back here . . ."

Unfortunately, as an inaugural effort, Alpha Monkey doesn't actually battle the cheese monster yet, and the reader is left with a gooey cliffhanger. I've briefly surfed the Zuda Comics website to learn that its contributors are in competition, presumably to win a chance to continue their strip. I could be wrong, but I find myself disappointed at the fleeting thought that Zuda's parent company DC Comics would've actually offered a no-strings opportunity to post original artwork. No, I'm not embittered by the industry's ever-narrowing submissions process in the face of news-making authors and celebrities often, yet vaguely contributing to the medium. I'm just wondering why the portal isn't wide open. DC could still winnow the amateurish strips out, leaving developing artists to their respective blogs until their reach full potential, but the competitive angle cheapens "the comic strip" as "viable art," in my opinion.

Perhaps I'm misinterpreting their intentions. Perhaps their using the word competition as an all-encompassing term to summarize an artist's attempt to connect with their audience. Obviously, every artist cannot connection with everyone. In that sense, all art is a competitive pursuit of self-expression for social acceptance. Still, I'm pretty sure it's just a feeble attempt to keep their hit counter flipping.

Alpha Monkey is an asset to Zuda either way. Its crisp, colorful art is like a still life cartoon, with plenty of moments of visual humor and childish grossness to appeal to a younger audience, yet still retaining the fantastic formulaic nature of comics to keep the older audience interested. This first strip's plot isn't particularly original, as I referenced both classic Superman and Spider-man paradigms to help you understand it, but it has the unsurpassed "monkey factor" which is a surefire attention-grabber by contemporary pop culture's standards, and it boasts snappy dialogue and rapid pacing. Shum mentioned in a supplemental comment that Alpha Monkey's future lies in animation; if that doesn't work, I think weekly syndication in a newspaper's comics section would add a fresh, youthful angle to the dusty old halls of Doonesbury and Ziggy.

Aw, geez. Don't get me wrong; I like Doonesbury, Ziggy, and mostly any ongoing Sunday funnies series, but you cannot deny the tenacity of those old standards. Most of those strips aren't for kids anymore, anyway. Dilbert and Foxtrot's biting sarcasm flies over many kids' heads, but the likes of Alpha Monkey fighting a booger monster? Cutting edge for the eight-year-old set.

Yes, I know I'm terribly behind the times with this on-line comics thing. Fortunately, thanks to Shum, and Von Allan last week, my attempt to review a webcomic once a week has unlocked a few key websites in times of such cyber-need. (Wait until you see what else a confessed geek like me hasn't read!) Man, just look at GirlAMatic, Zuda Comics, the growing maw that is ComicSpace . . . and for every proverbial back issue bin like these, hundreds of fledgling artists are posting directly to their own site, hoping to bring in Zuda's numbers, I'm sure. A competition? Yes, I guess it is. Who will be the alpha monkey?

Frankenstein Mobster #1

Frankenstein Mobster #1, December 2003, Image Comics
by Mark Wheatley
alternate cover by Mike Wieringo

A few of my friends have asked me what I think Cloverfield will be about, perhaps because they know that I heard producer J. J. Abrams talk about it at Comic Con earlier this year. Though I know Abrams really wanted to make a memorable monster movie, I usually simply say, "Well, it looks like Blair Witch meets Godzilla," a concept that seems to stimulate the post-fifth senses. I wonder if the film's already dynamic marketing campaign would've benefited from that tagline, sprawled under that haunting poster image of the headless Lady Liberty. Interestingly, that's the only way we seem capable of comprehending anything original anymore, by combining two concepts that are already done and that we can easily understand.

Try it. Write your ten favorite movies on separate little slips and divide them between two hats. Pull one from each to generate a completely new idea! The Usual Suspects meets Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I'm listening . . .

Seriously, when I saw the title for Frankenstein Mobster, I thought it might be a by-product of this phenomenon. I can see writer/artist Mark Wheatley writing a few archetypal characters on slips of paper, like mobster, pirate, detective, and Frankenstein, picking the first and last ones and thinking, "Mobster Frankenstein? No, Frankenstein Mobster! Genius!" Fortunately, his concept is a little more complicated than that. Set in Monstros, "a city of crime and monsters," Frankenstein Mobster stars the amnesiac spirit of a slain detective on the run from a few fellow but more criminal ghosts. When all of them rush toward and get caught in a harnessed bolt of lightning, they find themselves trapped in a ragtag zombie body, built by the sexy but seemingly sinister Dr. Solva (yes, interestingly, a woman), apparently a mob agent assigned to build an ultimate soldier. The potential for this gruesome monster's sophisticated internal conflict is rife for exploration, more so than any villagers' torch-wielding scorn. Good direction, great visual connection.

In the context of my number one issue analysis, this issue's letters column revealed that there's a Frankenstein Mobster #0 haunting back issue boxes somewhere, so technically this number one isn't the first issue. Fortunately, I didn't know that until the end, and the story was well contained to keep my unadulterated interest. Also, Wheatley's art started strong, a synthetic blend of thick ink lines and digital coloring effects, but lost a bit of its coherency toward the issue's resolution. The inclusion of a cop that turns into a lion was an unnecessary, surreal touch, perhaps offered only to explain the name of Wheatley's monstrous metropolis, but definitely giving Mike Wieringo reason to create his eye-catching cover. It's a shame back issue treasures like this will be the only way I'll discover eclectic 'Ringo works in the future.

Interestingly, the X-meets-Y way of describing something suits a Frankenstein story just fine, considering the monster's origin as a patchwork of people. In any incarnation, Frankie is really just limbs-meets-torso-meets-lightning bolt . . . but garb him in gangster attire, arm him with a Tommy gun, and you get the pieces of a potentially great story. I've reviewed some of Mark Wheatley's stuff before, but Frankenstein Mobster proves that, like both ends of his hero's namesake, he's best off working alone.

Fat Boy and Harvey #1

Fat Boy and Harvey #1, July 2005, Axiom
writer/inker: Howard M. Shum
penciller: E.W. Clayton

Blogger's note: Entry for Monday, January 14, 2008.

Well, Britney missed another court date. Oh, she made it to the courthouse, but like a boy with a "Do you like me?" note circling his crush's locker, she seemed unsure, timid, as if actually going in meant the end of her solo parade of unaccountability. Like many others, I fear for her safety, but I don't know why; I don't know her personally, and if I did, I think I'd ignore her calls. You don't need Billy Bush to tell you that the greater American public is fascinated with celebrity, much like the ancient Romans were fascinated by gladiators, I'm sure. They have bodies we envy and have achieved a potential we can only imagine, but we build them up only to experience the more fulfilling joy of watching them fall. Thinking about it, our fascination isn't "just like" the Romans'; with American Gladiators back on the air, it is the Romans', perhaps reimagined through some Jungian loop of acceptable masochism . . .

What does this have to with Fat Boy and Harvey #1? Not much, actually, other than to emphasize that writer Howard M. Shum understands the capacity of celebrity-oriented disgrace and uses it cleverly as a tongue-in-cheek story. When Harvey, a wanna-be animator, picks up his sizable cousin from the airport, the two find themselves in a streetside tussle, during which "Fat Boy" exhibits enough kung fu prowess to attract one of Fred Durst's handlers and score them a security job at a Limp Biskit concert. Of course, Harvey couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag and relies heavily on Fat Boy's skill, but his foreign cousin's honor and naivete are often more of a hindrance than a help. What follows is a peculiar tale of social satire, laced with Sunday funnies-paced humor really not suitable for an all-ages audience.

E. W. Clayton's pencils, with Shum's heavy black inks, pop right off the page, and his characters are as animated as the script calls for them to be -- perhaps even more so, emphasizing those hard punchlines and site gags with just enough "oomph." Writing humor comics is undoubtedly difficult, but by tethering their characters to a context everyone can understand, namely Fred Durst's latent homosexuality, Shum and Clayton instantly share an inside joke with their knowing audience. Sure, Harvey and Fat Boy are at best exaggerated projections of the creators themselves, who probably haven't worked a Limp Biskit concert in this capacity, but the way they tell it, anyone really could end up walking in on Durst tasting the hot dog flavored water . . . and we'd react the same way.

I picked up Fat Boy at the West Hollywood Book Fair last year, and Shum was kind enough to sign my issue for me. The cover by Sean "Cheeks" Galloway is a striking piece of character design, and perhaps even more coveted now that Cheeks has designed some characters for the forthcoming Spider-man animated series. Also of note, this issue's back-up feature, written conversely by Clayton, stars a ranting superhero that may or may not be satirising the Republican party. After reading this two-page diatribe, you might consider smiting your enemies, which was coincidentally one of my new year's resolutions . . .

If only Britney had such drive. While we hate to love to hate these celebrities, we also love to hate to love them. Most of us deal with this torrid romance by watching The Insider or visiting Perez Hilton's website a dozen times a day; Howard Shum turns it into a comic book. I'm glad something has come from those laps around the courthouse.

TV Review: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles

TV Review: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
airdate: Sunday, January 13, 2008

Last night's premiere of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles may have been a blockbuster broadcast event, certainly offering no viable connection to the comics industry, but Fox's apocalyptic pilot episode undeniably kicked off an exciting year for geeks and revisited franchises, which requires some analysis from the A Comic A Day front. Indeed, with a fourth Indiana Jones flick, a rebooted film incarnation of the Hulk, and a Star Trek prequel all in the works for 2008 (not to mention highly anticipated flicks like Cloverfield, Iron Man, and The Dark Knight), I see many midnight movie premieres in my immediate future. Fortunately, I didn't have to venture farther than my recliner for The Sarah Connor Chronicles, which suited me just fine. I want to be comfortable for the end of the world.

I should offer the quick disclaimer that, while I'm a huge fan of both Terminator 2: Judgement Day and Universal Studios Hollywood's Terminator: 3-D show, both of which I've experienced countless times, I'm by no means as invested in the franchise as, say, the guy that reviewed last night's premiere at Entertainment Weekly. Yes, I actually read a few other reviews before solidifying my opinion, because of my relative disconnection with the Terminator mythos. Now, I was thrilled by some of the pilot's recognizable moments of continuity with T2, namely the inclusion of Miles Dyson's death and the subsequent destruction of Cyberdine. Even casual viewers will promptly recognize that the very existence of this series reveals how inconclusive rewriting the future can be, so, obviously, his gory, gaspy sacrifice wasn't as permanent as we all thought. Enter this series' apparent premise: discover the new origins of Cyberdine and Skynet and destroy them . . . again. Pretty heavy, Doc.

I should also mention that I never saw Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. Perhaps I knew then that its story would be futile, obliterated by some obscene use of time travel, and if only I'd shared my predilections on-line, I'd be hailed geekdom's cyber prophet. More likely, I didn't want a hasty "three-quel" to ruin my cherished memories of its high octane predecessor. Thankfully, The Sarah Connor Chronicles feels the same way, actually going to great lengths to preserve the Connors as we knew and loved them years ago yet dropping them in the present, shrouding them in a blessed electric bubble of flannel-wearing sanctity. I wonder how much like our world their 2007 is; I wonder how Sarah would react to September 11th, or who she would vote for in '08. Though she doesn't strike me as the registered-to-vote type.

The most notable distinction in this new series, and the easiest to critique, is the inclusion of a female protector for John, and more pointedly, a young, hot one. (Are we sure Cyberdine was founded in Los Angeles, and not Orange County? Plus, her name, Cameron, is a clever enough tip o' the hat.) Actress Summer Glau has big shoes (literally) to fill as our newest terminatin' hero, and based solely on the pilot episode, she's willing to rise to the challenge (though this latest series could be dubbed Terminator 3: The Rise in John's Pants). Of course, one can assume that her looks will inevitably indicate her origins, that perhaps she's a replication of John's future wife or something, but in the meantime I insist she forsake the pouty glare for a grimace more snarlish. Arnold was the ultimate tough guy, and Robert Patrick's villainous liquid terminator was the unavoidable slime ball (again, in some scenes, literally), so Glau's protector should be the proverbial psycho chick, willing to cross any line to protect her man. Sure, John's gone from a paternal to an emasculating relationship with his robotic guardian angel, but, really, which would you rather have?

Glau isn't the only actor facing incredibly high expectations. As the series' namesake, Lena Heady isn't Linda Hamilton's husky-voiced, sinewy-undersexed Sarah Connor, but she's close. Considering that the pilot's opening act shows Connor happy and engaged, a little meat on Sarah's bones is appropriate anyway, though her jilted fiancee is sure to show his handsome mug again sooner than later -- one less thing the mother of mankind's resistance needs to worry about, eh? Thomas Dekker could easily play a pretty boy anywhere between the Dawson's Creek/Gossip Girl range of teenybopper television, but coat him in a layer of desert dust-flaked sweat and he's enough of a John Conner for me. In fact, his acting prowess may surpass that of predecessor Edward Furlong (Nick Stahl has been wiped from history, remember?), proven by my favorite explosion-free moment of the first episode, in which John denounces his potential as humanity's Messiah. Anyone that has needed a ride to the mall has evoked the heartfelt, "Please, Mom," but Dekker's carried the weight of the world behind it. I only hope he can keep it up.

Really, that's the only way Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles will achieve success and that coveted place as canon among Terminator purists, is if it maintains its pilot’s momentum. As a fan but a novice to the mythos, I enjoyed that every segment was driven by gun-shootin’ or car-chasing’ action. Slow it down for even a moment with a subplot like that fiance's broken heart and those diehards will have time to ponder the series’ flaws -- like why the opening act takes place in 1999, a stated two years after Cyberdine’s destruction, even though T2 was released in 1994. I mean, if you’re going to use time travel in the story, why use it in the show’s premise, too? Argh, see what I mean? I need somebody to blow a truck up right now! (Though to ease EW blogger Whitney Pastorek's mind, anytime a terminator goes back in time, isn't future history effectively reset, so the recreation of Skynet and Cameron's pre-2029 creation an expedited new timeline? Also, recasting even dead characters that just appear in pictures like Dyson make pre-T2 flashbacks possible, eh?) Yes, such momentum will assure the attention of the comic book lot, from an inevitable spin-off series to a set of well-crafted action figures. The elephant in the room is that the Terminator brand has been viable in recent years because of such franchising, anyway.

What I'm saying is, blow up enough stuff, this series will blow up. If it doesn't, either as a result of the writer's strike, its propulsion, or its appeal, or even if The Sarah Connor Chronicles get buried under the rest of the year's fanfare, at least geeks can rest assured of its cult hit capacity. After all, its cancellation wouldn't be the end of the world . . . right?

Hulk #1

Hulk #1, March 2008, Marvel Comics
writer: Jeph Loeb
penciller: Ed McGuinness
inker: Dexter Vines
colorist: Jason Keith
letterer: ComiCraft
production: Rich Ginter
assistant editor: Nathan Cosby
editor: Mark Paiccia
EIC: Joe Quesada
publisher: Dan Buckley

Blogger's note: Entry for Sunday, January 13, 2008.

Stop me if you've heard this one. How many people does it take to produce a comic book?

Ten credits. Excluding Daniel Acuna as the variant cover artist (since I couldn't didn't get his cover, breathtaking it may be), and assuming only one of ComiCraft's computer jockeys worked on this issue, ten people contributed to the product that is Hulk #1. What did Rich Ginter do by way of "production," I wonder? Is an assistant editor absolutely necessary, or is Loeb's script that difficult to check for spelling and grammatical errors? Sure, I'm being a bit facetious, but if someone can shed some light on the necessity of this mob-like creative team, I'd appreciate it!

Also, unfortunately, I found The Drowners #1 a much more enjoyable read, and it was the solo effort of one artist, Nabiel Kanan. Editors and publishers weren't credited. Also, I like the Hulk, and this issue didn't jive with anything I've known of the character . . . and I'm not even eluding to the fact that Bruce Banner seems void of his "jaded" alter ego this time around!

When World War Hulk began last summer, I made the conscious decision to buy the five issue miniseries, sans extra-title tie-ins and despite the fact that I hadn't faithfully followed the preceding Planet Hulk story arc, because I felt its "Hulk vs. the Marvel Universe" mentality would impress as comics' version of a summertime, big budget popcorn muncher. Greg Pak's poignant dialogue added an unanticipated layer of depth to the Green Scar's onslaught, though, and by the third issue, I was riveted by those moments which, in the face of a yearlong epic and multi-title crossover, timelessly captured the essence of the Hulk. For specific examples, scroll through my reviews of each issue at Geek in the City, where you'll see my culminating admiration for Pak's introspection-meets-desolation storytelling crash and burn with the Sentry's inevitable interference, after which the whole glorious idea of World War Hulk exposes itself as a reader-inducing launchpad for half a dozen other titles in 2008. Hulk #1 is one such title, and though I avoided the other "Aftersmash" issues, I felt compelled to this piece, if only to see what's become of the title character.

Yet, why I set myself up for more disappointment isn't the mystery that kicks off this new incarnation of the Hulk. Instead, Doc Samson, She-Hulk, Iron Man, and General Ross are in Russia, and Samson is investigating the Abomination's murder with The Speckled Band-like accuracy (any Sherlock Holmes fans out there?) at the hands of the Hulk. Well, his hands started it, but a large, presumably S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued gun ended it. Yes, the Hulk pulled a big gun, which I unfortunately saw coming thanks to my reading Hannibal Tabu's The Buy Pile, in which he rightfully claims, "a gun-wielding Hulk of any stripe is dumb." When Russia's the Winter Guard shows up, Samson uncharacteristically starts the issue's obligatory slugfest, ended when a young villager mutters her only observation of the Hulk/Abomination tussle: "Red." We assume she isn't referring to her Russian roots.

Also, Rick Jones is shirtlessly wandering around the Alaskan frontier, and General Ross still hates Banner, who makes a predictable last page appearance, above this first chapter's title, "Who is the Hulk?" I think this title is an homage to Stan Lee's original script, but it also establishes a very Loeb-esque mystery -- one that might not be as simple as we think. Yes, Rick appears to be the new Hulk, but Samson's familiarity with the Abomination's murder can't just be good forensics; then again, he makes an allusion that this mystery is "all about" Thunderbolt Ross, a fleeting comment that Loeb might try to pass as a clue. Loeb is known for his emphasis on apparent minutia, or am I the only one thrown for a loop by the "oh so obvious" outcome of Batman: Dark Victory? So, yes, I'm putting in my claim that Doc Samson is the new Hulk, with General Ross as my secondary choice for logistic's sake, both of whom could've snagged a S.H.I.E.L.D. gun and have enough motivation to eradicate any sign of the Hulk's legacy on Earth. Or, after ol' Jade Jaws' world war, maybe everybody is a Hulk -- er, I mean, maybe a Skrull Hulk. See, it isn't that far-fetched, eh?

Ed McGuinness is at his usual bubbly best, though under the inks of Dexter Vines, these pages have a bit more texture befitting a rugged desert-oriented character like the Hulk. For a title that emphasizes color so much, Jason Keith seems like the right choice for the job; in fact, I couldn't help but notice his attention to the Hulk's fingernails, which pop right off the page with a texture sure to sicken anyone's girlfriend. Interestingly, in the Abomination's murder/flashback, the Hulk is still green, so I wonder what role his new red pigment will play. Will it reveal our new hero's inner psychological trauma, or is it akin to Spider-man's old black costume -- just a marketing gimmick?

Therein lies the dilemma. I'm genuinely interested in the outcome of this inaugural issue's established mystery, mainly for the sake of this character I've enjoyed since my youth, but if its resolution doesn't meet my fanboyish expectations, like World War Hulk, I'll regret making such a costly investment for it. Yes, for the loss of my valued green, I'll be seeing red . . . and I'll still be wondering why so many people are responsible.

Snaked #1

Snaked #1, December 2007, IDW Publishing
writer: Clifford Meth
artist/colorist: Rufus Daygle
color assistant: Liam Shallee
editor: Andrew Steven Harris
cover artist: Ashley Wood

Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, January 12, 2007.

The current political climate in America, namely the Presidential caucuses, is much like shopping for a new comic book series based on its first issue. In both cases, one's impressions of the candidates occur in waves; of course, the decision-making process begins with the first impression, either the Iowa caucus or the comic book's cover, then progresses from there where ever one decides to focus their attention. Some candidates favor some state caucuses over others, considering the state's party slant and voting history, while some comic readers flip through a first issue's pages to determine if they like the art or storytelling style. Yes, in some cases, folks make a decision based on their presuppositions -- perhaps like always vote Democrat, or they always buy Kurt Busiek. See, the thought processes are surprisingly similar.

Me, I try to lean independent -- in both cases. Regarding comics, I'm a superhero man (not to be confused with Superhero Man, a copyright infringement case waiting to happen), but when it comes to trying something new, I steer away from the DC, Marvel, or even Image legacies. (Draw your Bush, Clinton, and Kennedy comparisons . . . now!) Like Obama's been preaching, I look for change, or more specifically something that will change the way I look at comics. Really, I'm looking for Snaked.

I had a few first issues in my "to buy" pile today, as I perused the new release rack at Comics, Toons, and Toys in Tustin, California, but ultimately Snaked beat them all. Initially, after I saw that large number one, I was taken by the stark Ashley Wood cover, whose work I recently enjoyed for the first time in IDW's latest Tank Girl miniseries. When I flipped through the issue, I noticed the undeniable similarities to, or perhaps even blatant mimicry of, Wood's work with that of interior artist Rufus Daygle, who favors the heavy digital zipatone with just the right balance of strategically raw ink work. Tank Girl was beautifully illustrated but lacked a certain linear quality I like in my narrative, so I hoped Snaked would combine these two preferences, so I flipped to the last page to read the last line.

Yes, I'm one of those people. I often read the last line of a first issue to determine if I'd like it, even if only as a singular installment. Since first issues are a reader's first impression of an entire story, I figure the writer would want to leave him with something substantial -- an equally positive last impression that would make the month until issue two unbearable. So, looking at Snaked (spoiler alert, obviously), what would you think of this cliffhanger statement?

"I know Timmons better than most people . . . I don't believe he'd eat a penis. Monster or not . . . Timmons is a Republican."

Okay. I'm listening. (See, that political comparison was more than just a clever, relevant opener, eh?!) Who wouldn't read that last line and wonder, "Who's this Timmons, and why is he eating male genitalia?" Timmons, and the man telling his story, were advisers to Senator Clinton pre-9/11, and when I say "pre," I mean the opening act begins on 9/10. Really, most of this issue is anecdotal stage setting, as character archetypes and relationships are established; in Timmons' case, he's the most straight edge in Clinton's cabinet, until, sometime after 9/11, he apparently participates in another senator's pet project, Project Snaked. Years later, inexplicably in prison, Timmons kills a cellmate, then takes a bite out of crime, literally, in a scene I'll spare myself from describing. Our narrator, once a cocky political aid, becomes a hospitalized psychiatric nutcase, afraid this Timmons has broken out of jail to find him. Knowing what he's capable of, I'd be scared, too.

Writer Clifford Meth uses the narrator like Bryan Singer used Verbal Kint in The Usual Suspects; he seems very vulnerable, yet the reader suspects he knows more than he tells, particularly considering how he disavows that gory prison sequence despite in the face of Daygle's vivid visuals. Meth has a few aces up his sleeve, and I'm definitely interested in seeing what comes next.

Of course, I'm hoping that Snaked doesn't shed this colorful skin in favor of a more dull shade, that it doesn't settle into a predictable political thriller with just a sci-fi subtext. The trappings are there, but the potential is more powerful. Again, how much like politics is that? Once you cast your vote, you're kind of stuck with the outcome in spite of yourself? Or would you lead me to believe that everyone buying a commitment-based series like Countdown is loving every issue? When the title implies the wait for its conclusion, you know that's a term you can never get back.

The Drowners #1

The Drowners #1, November 2003, New Flame Publishing
by Nabiel Kanan

Anytime I credit a single person for an entire comic book, as is the case for The Drowners #1 by Nabiel Kanan, I'm of two minds about the read's outcome. Most mainstream comic books are the result of a team's input, from the writer, to the artist (which often a penciller/inker partnership in itself), the letterer, the colorist, and the slew of editors that proof the piece before publication. (I'm excluding the more recent additions of cover artist and color separators to any given issue's credits . . . or I guess now I'm not, but you get the idea.) For any one creator to produce their own comic book, let alone a series, is an overwhelming undertaking, which could result in an incredibly potent piece of impassioned storytelling or a really watered down attempt at pop culture trite.

Fortunately, despite its title, Nabiel Kanan was not in over head with The Drowners. In fact, based on his credentials, which include an Eisner Award nomination and the single-handed creation of Lost Girl and Now & Then, these graphic solo missions are what Kanan excels in. (Of course, I only know if his bibliography thanks to the ads on the inside back cover and back cover proper, but, hey, I was impressed, so they did their job.)

The Drowners #1 is the beginning of a finely intertwined mystery orbiting James Quinn, the CEO of a billionaire media conglomerate teetering the end of its success. By this issue's end, we learn that Quinn may be responsible for a lady's drowning, which is being clumsily investigated by a Dr. Green, who appears to have a more emotional than medical investment in the case. One of Green's patients, Hayley, is a drug addict that owes her dealer payment in the form of prescription pills, and though she doesn't want to bring her sister, a nurse, into her seedy world, she often beseeches her for a fix. In fact, this issue begins with Hayley arriving on sister Stephanie's doorstep, a scene ironically smirk-worthy thanks to Steph's boyfriend (husband?) Paul's exasperated sarcasm. All this, and a wince-inducing scene in which Quinn's spoiled wife abuses their maid. The players are in place, and I'm left wondering how they mix in this cocktail of murder, money, envy, and sorrow.

Kanan's artwork is fantastic, a fine blend of brushstroke and graytone, with dynamic character blocking and strong moments of expressive plot progression. No panel is wasted as characters are promptly established and mood is seemingly effortlessly set, with almost a cinematic grace. While I'm tempted to liken some of his pages to Goff's from The Detective #1, since they both share echoes of genres from the past, I think a Darwyn Cooke comparison is more likely, with a bit more of a minimalist filter. Interestingly, that this inaugural issue is a series of talking head scenes almost goes unnoticed considering the rapid succession of the story, and though it takes Kanan the whole issue to show the reader how these characters are connected, the journey isn't too rocky or disorienting visually. I know I have his Now & Then #1 buried in my to-review box, and now I'm really looking forward to it.

No doubt about it, though: The Drowners #1 is a soap opera and should be approached as such, lest more mainstream comic book readers expect an action-packed type of murder mystery. If anything else, this issue is an excellent example of how a solo artist can accomplish the whole of the graphic sequential storytelling thing. Each player in a creative team really just dips their toe in, but Kanan dives in head first. It's refreshing.

Gravel #0

Gravel #0, December 2007, Avatar Press
writer/scripter: Warren Ellis
scripter/alternate cover artist: Mike Wolfer
artist: Raulo Caceres
colorist: Greg Waller

Gravel #0 isn't a "number one issue," but it's definitely a first issue, which qualifies it for review during this "first issue analysis" month of A Comic A Day: Year Two. I don't know when the "zero issue" trend began, though I'm tempted to blame DC's "Zero Hour" crossover back in 1994 (which has, I assumed, been retconned in favor of 52's multiverse concept). Even then, when I was younger and a little less embittered, I felt that publishing a Batman #0 was a bit pompous, presuming that any modern generation of creators could actually produce an issue that precedes Bob Kane and Bill Finger's historic Batman #1, even if only numerically. Would the proverbial prologue actually encourage a new audience for comics, and if so why mire them in a multi-title crossover? Certainly dedicated fanboys didn't need another retelling of their favorite characters' origins . . .


But I digress. Having an issue with "the zero issue" is ironic, anyway. Has anyone complained about prologues in real books?

Gravel #0 reinforces Warren Ellis' place as a relevant, politically-oriented writer (along with co-scripter Mike Wolfer), at least in its first scene, in which Bill Gravel, combat magician, takes out a group of Afghan Jihadists quite unconventionally and mercilessly, freeing a captured British reporter in the process. After a year's worth of Taliban tussling, Gravel returns to Britian and discovers he's been presumed dead and replaced by wealthy young upstart Simon Shiranian, whom Gravel confronts with just as little mercy. Simon explains that he earned Gravel's place among the Minor Seven, an elite group of occult detectives, by finding the Sigsand Manuscript and dividing it between them. Gravel's solo series will undoubtedly begin with his supernatural quest to reclaim the whole of this manuscript.

I'm a big fan of Ellis' work, though I admit it a required taste, but I couldn't help but liken Gravel #0 to some of his other recent work, softening its overall blow and potential to impress. For instance, his other, headline-inducing series Black Summer also began with a can't-be-missed zero issue, with a much more potent political context (which, along with his Vertigo opus Transmetropolitan, makes me wonder if Ellis wouldn't take a shot at our President if given the chance), and the latest issue of Doktor Sleepless, released the same week as Gravel, featured a more gruesome stabbing murder sequence. Still, like many of Ellis' more memorable characters, Gravel is a no nonsense tough guy in a world of seemingly shallow, falsely self confident pawns whose only real place in the world is to make our hero look even more tough. This archetype is the superhero of the twenty-first century -- not someone who can fly or shoot fire from their eyes, but someone the reader could genuinely be if he forsook our apparently ingrained need for society's polite approval. Oh, and a global quest for a magic manuscript wouldn't hurt, either.

Avatar enjoys offering alternate covers for almost all of their prominent titles, so I'm often in a quandary every time I pick up one of their issues, but Raulo Caceres' wrap-around cover was gruesomely rewarding, particularly as a first impression of the overall book, when I flipped it over to complete the image. Yes, I think if you're going to do a wrap-around cover, the flip should provide something unexpected, something worthy of the widescreen format. Large "running toward us" shots just don't suffice; I'm not fifteen-years-old anymore, people. If it isn't a group of terrorists getting their heads blown off, stick to the standard "Got Milk" ads back there, okay?

(Those last two sentences are best read with a Dennis Miller-like accent. Moving on . . .)

Of course, $1.99 is an acceptable loss for this twelve page story, considering that Ellis' prologues are often more substantial than any given other comic book chapter, and while Caceres' work is standard fare for Avatar, his pours on the mood and provides the reader a sufficient sense of magic in the real world. I'm eager to see what a full-length issue offers, if Ellis can continue to balance a fair sense of action with supernatural intrigue. If so, it's fair to say that Gravel will rock.

Yeah, I know, but I had to say it.

WWWednesday: the road to god knows . . .

WWWednesday: the road to god knows . . .
website: http://www.girlamatic.com/comics/godknows.php
by Von Allan

Every Wednesday, A Comic A Day boldly diverts from the printed page to read and review a different webcomic, examining at least its first, previous, and current installments. If you have a webcomic you'd like A Comic A Day to review, please e-mail me with a link to and a synopsis of your work. Put "Review my webcomic!" in the subject line so I don't mistake your request for spam . . . unless your comic is really called "Enlarging Your Manhood," in which case, tell me more!

Is it Wednesday already? Something tells me these mid-week attempts to review a different webcomic will creep up on me unexpectedly. While one of the many advantages of web publishing is its convenience, both for the audience and the artist, a webcomics novice like me looking for something new to read actually has to work for the material, rather than my usual, often blind grab for a comic from my "to be reviewed" box. Last week, I went with what I knew, namely old APE neighbor John Hageman, Jr.'s Social Vermyn, but even then, with so many strips at my disposal, I wondered where to begin. Some webcomics are as intimidating as their in-print counterparts. Imagine wanting to look a series in its entirety, and then choosing a title like Alpha Flight. You know where it began, and catching up to its present installments is feasible, but in a day?

So, I'm going with what I know again, and, speaking of Alpha Flight, I'm venturing over the Canadian border to Von Allan's Ottawa-based the road to god knows . . . I didn't meet Von at APE, but he and I shared the exhibitor floor, and I began a brief on-line dialogue with him regarding his LiveJournal analysis of the indie comic con. I had picked up his the road to god knows . . . sampler and reviewed it last year, so since then I've been anticipating the release of his graphic novel proper. GirlaMatic beat any other publisher in exposing Allan's opus to the public, releasing the graphic novel in four page installments every Monday, which definitely affects the building momentum of the story, but gets it out there nevertheless.

The road to god knows . . . features a tomboyish thirteen-year-old girl whose mother is battling schizophrenia. The first twenty-four pages are currently available, and while the first four beautifully establish the story's setting, I can't imagine that it was a substantial initial offering. Only when the characters appear and get to talking, some six pages in, does one begin to understand the emotional depth and poignancy to Allan's world. Though the lead character's thoughts are consumed with raising money for wrestling tickets, and she talks about it ad nauseum, the real story is told in the quiet moments of tear-swelling or brow-furrowing, a kind of visual empathy at which Allan excels. Ultimately, unfortunately, these first twenty-four pages are somewhat uneventful, presumably culminating in a yet-unseen explosion of conflict when we, the audience, inevitably experience the mother's schizophrenia firsthand, and consequently watch this thirteen-year-old girl grow up before her time. In this case, the comic's title is appropriate, because while we become attached to these characters and hope for their happy ending, there's no telling if Allan will let the consequences of his harsh context become a bitter reality.

Artistically, Von's work is a challenge; while he does capture the preciousness of the moment, his characters' proportions are often awkward or even twisted. Understandably, Allan is a grown guy drawing young women, so a certain element of awkwardness is expected -- a "lost in translation" attempt at accurately capturing the potentially foreign world of pre-teens, if you will. Still, in embracing the fine details of these characters' relationships, the visuals flow. As I mentioned in my review of Allan's APE freebie, I work with kids and enjoy comics that capture the truth of their inconsistent behavior (believe me, they aren't all Zoom Academy grads, okay?), so that mentality helped me understand the totality of this piece. Even the cutest kids take some of the most terrible pictures; in this vein, even the most innocent of worlds is touched by tenderness and tragedy.

I did enjoy the depth of Von's inks and the gray tones presumably added with watercolor. The texture of his page or canvas contributes to things like the overcast sky, the dimensions of the street, and even our young heroine's jeans, intended or not. In some cases this might pull me out of the story, but in this case it pulled me in. I guess familiarity with the artist's mentality doesn't hurt, either -- another advantage to the on-line format. Every four page installment is supplemented with commentary, either about the work itself, or some goings-on in comic book culture, etc. This "real time" effect just isn't possible with traditional comics, especially considering that some of them are written as much as a year in advance.

Further, anyone that references Captain Picard's replicator request, "Tea, earl grey, hot," is a winner in my book!

So the road to god knows . . . is a graphic novel turned webcomic. What exactly makes a webcomic? I mean, if I scanned every page of The Dark Knight Returns and offered it in weekly or monthly installments, would that make it a webcomic? Perhaps it's the road's on-line exclusivity that establishes the distinction, implying that the work will become a comic book when it finally sees print. It's an interesting avenue of exploration that Von has probably already addressed (at least he did the last time we exchanged e-mails, but I won't speak for him here), but while the reading experience is different, the content remains the same, and the road to god knows . . . boasts such charm and universal appeal that I think it would find its niche in any format. Where ever his characters are going, their plight undoubtedly brings readers back to his strip every Monday, which is a happy enough ending for me.

Also, finding GirlaMatic has exposed me to some more webcomics! Let's see what I can find for next week . . .

The Detective #1

The Detective #1, September 1999, Sunset Strips Publishing
writer/artist: Goff
colorist: Jose Grandmont
dialogue assistance: David Jackson
book design & color separation: Sunset Strips Studios

I was really disappointed in the recent "Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul" crossover that plagued the Bat-family books this holiday season. Batman's global pursuit was three issue's worth of adventure prolonged in seven, and Robin's internal struggle with the Demon Head's offer to join him and resurrect his parents was predictable, useless page filler. I was actually very pleasantly surprised with Paul Dini's epilogue in the latest Detective Comics; the one-issue wrap-up was more clever and fulfilling than the entire preceding arc, mostly because Batman actually used his detective skills to track and subdue Ra's. Writers often forget that Batman's mind is as powerful as his body, and when they remember, we readers are often so denied the Dark Knight's process that he comes off like some know-it-all (or "Bat-God," as I've read on some message boards). Sure, the guy wears a cape, but Batman was forged in the fires of 1930s detective pulp fiction, combining that fantasy of Superman's genre-creating appeal with the standards of those oversized pulps.

Enter Sunset Strip's The Detective, an obvious homage to those gumshoe magazines of yesteryear. Writer/art Goff (no other name is given) masterfully crafts a complicated tale of uncanny intrigue, capturing the oddities of human behavior and greed -- hallmarks of those old window-blind-shaded tales. In The Detective #1, Charlton, a reporter eager for a story, scours the morgue and discovers the possible corpse of Max Faccioni, famous detective, which inspires him to recount an old kidnapping case. When a boxer thinks his girlfriend has been kidnapped, he considers throwing the fight to get her back, but Faccioni finds her in hiding, disgusted with her man's masochism. When the flashback ends, we discover that the body wasn't Faccioni's, but Charlton has written his article anyway . . .

. . . which attracts the attention of a mysterious benefactor who hires Charlton to discover Faccioni's real fate. Charlton hits the history books and uncovers a case about two old British soldiers that have begun terrorizing each other after their mutual guilt for a military crime. When Faccioni realizes that one soldier's butler was an inside man for the other, all hell breaks lose, including a merciless hurricane that claims the betrayer's life. This case is much more convoluted than the boxing caper, and I felt like a detective trying to decipher its less than linear flow, but Goff offers a poignant ending that almost makes up for it. We don't see Charlton again, but I assume his investigation of Max Faccioni drives this twelve issue miniseries to its conclusion.

Artistically, Goff effectively captures the mood of the pulp era detective stories that undoubtedly inspired him, from the just-so hooked nose of his trenchcoated detective to the charming imperfections of his hand-written lettering. His characters look stock, like they've been removed from a paper doll cut-out book of old detective archetypes, with similarities to modern masters Eduardo Barreto or Graham Nolan, and his black, white, and red coloring offer just the right amount of mood. Red is indeed the ideal shade, capable of capturing both the passion of that boxer's dame and the violence of that last story's hurricane. My only qualm with Goff's visuals is its dire consistency; bouncing back and forth from Charlton's 1984 to Faccioni's presumably Big Band era, I actually hadn't realized how I'd been shifted in time until I went back to catch a caption I'd missed. Again, I felt like a detective myself, which might have actually benefited the issue, since then I could sympathize with Faccioni's frustration . . .

Overall, The Detective #1 was a delightful blast to the past, and a fun departure from the trappings of conventional comic book storytelling. Though the connection to our modern understanding of Batman is thin, considering my recently mixed feelings about the Ra's resurrection, I was grateful for Goff's grounded take on the gumshoe paradigm. Max Faccioni is easily capable of following a Dark Knight adventure in Batman's native Detective Comics title and in fact might support that title's namesake more than the Caped Crusader. With guys like Goff around, "the detective" as the world once knew him, like Ra's Al Ghul, will never die.

Private Beach #1

Private Beach #1, February 2001, Slave Labor Graphics Publishing
by David Hahn

If you haven’t heard, it’s raining in California. Of course, I know this because I stepped outside this weekend, but even if I stayed indoors and ignored the sounds of raindrops against my window, I couldn’t avoid both the television and radio reports about Mother Nature’s “one, two, three punch” against the Golden State. To hear these melodramatic meteorologists report it, you’d think these three storm fronts are just one shy of the apocalypse’s four horsemen. I like the rainy respite, but despite the precipitation, my inner Californian couldn’t help but embrace a trip to the beach . . . even if it’s only a comic book coast. Thankfully, David Hahn’s Private Beach is the perfect proverbial getaway for a rainy day.

According to Hahn’s back cover essay, Private Beach #1 isn’t the first appearance of beachcombers Trudy Honeyvan and Sharona Cupkey, but this five-years-later relaunch is an entity all its own, with an introduction so unique I can’t help but revel in its cleverness. Consider this narration from the first page, which is so compelling I don’t mind transcribing it all:

“One afternoon, God decided to take every human soul that ever existed, or ever will exist, and line us up in a specific order known only to Him. There we stood, in a single row, shoulder to shoulder, all facing front. God then told us to walk, but because we were all standing side by side, we had no choice but to all walk forward in the same direction. However, out of all of humanity, there were two people who didn’t have to walk in a straight line with the rest of us; the two people on either end of the line. Those two individuals had a bit more leeway because they only had people on one side of them. The other side was all empty space. Whether it occurred to them or not, they didn’t have to march in a straight line with the rest of us. If they wished, they could veer off at angle. Away from the rest of us. Independent of the rest of us. By marching at right angles from the main line, those two people would see reality from a much different perspective than the rest of mankind. One of these people at the end of the line was a Japanese peasant who died of strep throat in 1681. At the other end of the line was young woman named Trudy Honeyvan.”

Isn’t that great, if a bit ethereal? Fortunately, what follows is a much more grounded story, as Trudy spots an UFO, hangs out with her friends at the beach, and becomes the sole suspicious observer of a few men in black, who, based on the next issue teaser, play a significant role later in Trudy’s tale. To describe Trudy and Sharona’s day is to liken their comic shop hopping and pop culture ridden dialogue to the guys from Kevin Smith’s Mallrats; other than the unfortunate fate of an once oil-soaked seal, nothing really seems to happen in this introductory issue, yet by its quirky conclusion the reader has a strong grasp of the gals’ personalities and predicaments, and in spite of himself wants to see what the next chapter brings for them.

(Though I made a similar critique of Teen Titans: Year One #1, those characters are introduced with completely no distinctive traits whatsoever. Awkward sidekicks, all four of 'em. Hahn's characters have some substance . . .)

It doesn’t hurt that Hahn’s heroines are impossibly cute, either. His art style is crisp, expressive, and thorough; Trudy and Sharona spend a lot of time judging the folks around them, as I presume many young women do, and Hahn captures the oddities of their world with perceptive social significance and accuracy. The underlying threads of the supernatural only increase this visual intrigue, what with the UFO sightings and all. The two back-up strips are also insightful, and I wonder perhaps a bit autobiographical, as well, in their depiction of adolescent curiosity and commentary. Actually, in some respects these little back-ups steal the show, but I won’t spoil them with a synopsis in the hopes that you’ll actually seek them out. It’s a private beach you definitely want to discover firsthand.

Honestly, independent comic books like this usually don’t appeal to me. I often dismiss such characters’ pseudo-sophisticated dialogue as a feeble attempt to connect to an expectedly geeky audience and to establish a commitment to the title out of pop cultural obligation. However, regarding Private Beach #1, its subtexts established a stronger foundation for me, and Hahn’s essay revealed a real compassion for his characters’ archetypes. Perhaps I’ve been wrong about this indie genre. Like the rain, Private Beach #1 has made some strides in clearing the air -- at least for this geeky audience of one.

2 Guns #1

2 Guns #1, April 2007, Boom! Studios
writer: Steven Grant
artist: Mat Santolouco
colorist: Pop Art Studios
letterer/editor: Ed Dukeshire

2 Guns #1 is a dialogue-intensive crime drama full of predictable cliches and unexpected twists, and as far as first issues are concerned, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Bobby Trench is an undercover operative for a law firm that sets up established criminals, but the loopholes of our justice system makes it increasingly difficult to bring them down. Bobby laments the apparent futility of his work even in the face of accusations that he's become crooked, and by issue's end, we're led to believe that he is. As the nefarious "Bobby Beans," Trench teams up with an ambitious bank robber who turns on him after their heist, and, in a surprising move, is seemingly a secret agent himself for Naval Intelligence. This five issue miniseries promises to be an adventurous exploration of national security meets mob warfare, which may not be as vast a contrast as we think.

Rafael Albuquerque's cover is eye-catching, and Matt Santolouco's interior art is fluid and dramatic, despite the frequent clutter that results from writer Steven Grant's ill-paced dialogue. Don't get me wrong -- I liked that this issue took longer than usual to read (unlike yesterday's Teen Titans debacle), but some pages were void of any text, and others tight with wordy exchanges. I guess if my only complaint is that too much story was crammed into this first issue's twenty-two pages, this was a pretty good launch to a potentially dynamic plot.

Of course, I found 2 Guns #1 in a quarter back issue bin, so if I find the other four issues for just as much, I'll definitely pick them up. A good story for less than a few bucks . . . I call that killing two birds with, well, two guns.

Teen Titans: Year One #1

Teen Titans: Year One #1, March 2008, DC Comics
writer: Amy Wolfram
artists: Karl Kershl, Serge Lapointe, Steph Peru
letterer: Nick J. Napoutano
assistant editor: Adam Schlagman
editor: Eddie Berganza

Blogger's note: Entry for Saturday, January 5, 2007.

Theoretically, Teen Titans: Year One #1 should be an excellent superhero comic book. First of all, it stars four teenaged superheroes, the very concept of which epitomizes the youthful escapism that made comic books a viable medium in the post-Depression, pre-World War II Golden Age of their inception. Secondly, these particular characters are four of the most recognizable in comics, and the “year one” story has become an equally beloved niche in the science fiction genre. (Indeed, Frank Miller’s now classic Batman: Year One may have contributed to the prequel phenomenon in contemporary cinema, from the latest Star Wars films, to Batman Begins, to Casino Royale.) Finally, the Teen Titans brand is more popular than ever, what with the success of their animated series; sure, the series is technically over, but the Kids’ WB recently reintroduced it in its Saturday morning line-up, proving that even Titan reruns are just as cool as new, say, Eon Kid episodes.

So, yes, Teen Titans: Year One #1 has the makings of a perfect superhero comic book. Unfortunately, it’s everything but. The Teen Titans catchy theme song claimed, “When there’s trouble, you know who to call -- Teen Titans!” So who do we call when they’re in trouble?

Summarizing the feeble twenty page story in Teen Titans: Year One #1 is a difficult task, since a plot actually barely exists. Of those twenty pages, seven are dedicated to Robin and Kid Flash just missing each other in a chat room, which is as painfully slow moving for Wally as it is for the reader. Aqualad and Wonder Girl are introduced via instances of their respective social inadequacies, then Batman blows off Robin during their hunt for an elusive cat burglar. Dick and Wally are the only Titans to actually appear together in this issue, and even then it’s a brief how-do-ya-do before Robin finds himself on the receiving end of Batman’s wrath again, implying that the rest of this six-issue miniseries will address the possible possession or mind control of these sidekicks’ mentors. It’s a slow start to a predicable conclusion, undoubtedly hinged around a single, inevitable splash page “rewarding” the faithful reader by finally featuring all of the founding Teen Titans together. Oh, I can’t wait.

Two pages of this issue’s expected twenty-two page format were reserved for a back-up story starring . . . I don’t believe I’m typing this . . . fish. A blowfish briefly appeared and “spoke” in the lead story, thanks to Aqualad’s presumed psychic connection with marine life, but this back-up story exploits that one-panel gag and expands it into a contrived prologue -- much like the previous twenty pages, I guess. I don’t know what writer Amy Wolfram is doing with these dangling threads, but if they aren’t woven together quickly, that little fish won’t be the only one floundering.

Thankfully, this issue’s crisp art softened the blow of its anti-plot, and its exaggerated style was undoubtedly inspired by the Teen Titans TV show, which successfully blended anime techniques with Bruce Timm’s definitive style, established in his Batman, Superman, and Justice League animated series. Pages are laid out and characters are blocked to the fullest potential for dramatic effect, and the coloring uses vibrant hues and strategic filters to best convey the pages’ fluidity. Still, these dynamic visuals won’t be enough to keep a casual reader’s attention (like mine), and I can’t imagine that even diehard Titans fans would be satisfied with this shallow exploration (exploitation?) of their favorite super-team’s origins.

Also, a few contextual elements pulled me out of the issue, such as Robin and Kid Flash’s futile on-line chat. The charm of Batman: Year One, the first “year one” of them all, was its primitive interpretation of the Dark Knight’s beginnings. While Miller obviously couldn’t set Gotham in the pulp-ridden ‘30s, when Batman first impacted pop culture, he was apparently careful not to mention the ‘80s, when Year One was originally published. For the sake of continuity, the setting was distinctively timeless, with any “futuristic” advances attributed to Batman’s ingenuity. Based on Teen Titans: Year One, Dick Grayson could’ve been Robin as recently as last week, unless I’m misinterpreting the implications of his screen name, “BoyWonder07.” Also, Wonder Girl, naïve to man’s world, is immediately awed by billboards of boy bands, and while I’m not suggesting she gush over old issues of Tiger Beat with Davy Jones on the cover, this social context will forever ground Teen Titans: Year One in our modern era of Backstreet Boys and American Idols. Normally, I wouldn’t quibble over these details, but without a substantial story to review, such minutia is all that’s left to analyze!

Despite my distaste, I know why Wolfram and company essentially phoned in this inaugural issue: it’s an easy sell. For all of the reasons I mentioned earlier, Teen Titans: Year One has enough conceptual charm that it doesn’t need substantial content, at least not in the first issue. I mentioned George Lucas earlier; while Star Wars fans usually denounce episodes one through three, one cannot deny Lucas’ genius back in ’77 when he started his epic in the middle. Even then, Lucas knew audiences would notice that haunting chapter heading and wonder how things began. J.J. Abrams is counting on this intrigue with his forthcoming Star Trek flick. In this regard, DC can’t lose! Slap a “year one” behind even the most obscure character, like Metamorpho, maybe, and the series is a surefire sell. No matter how C-list the hero, anyone can jump onboard from the beginning. No back issues needed, and best of all, no baggage, right?

Yet, for Teen Titans: Year One, a carry-on wouldn’t hurt.

Spellgame #1

Spellgame #1, September 2005, Speakeasy Comics
writer: Dan Mishkin
artist: Ramon Perez
letterer: Marshall Dillon
editor: Chris Stone
cover artist: Darwyn Cooke

Everybody remembers their first time. No, I'm not talking about "becoming a man," though that may play some part in it -- I'm talking about one's first trip to Las Vegas. Whether you're vacationing for business or unadulterated pleasure, Las Vegas is truly an adult Disneyland that inspires a completely different but equally compelling part of one's imagination. I first visited "the strip" with my old friends Nathan and Nick, and one night, while we were waiting for the bus to take us from one end to the other, two pretty girls pulled up and asked if we wanted a ride. Thinking we'd hit the proverbial jackpot, we joined them for drinks and, in our naivete, didn't realize until at least an hour into our conversation that drinks weren't all they wanted us to pay for. We learned that lesson the hilarious way; what happens in Vegas usually puts you in way over your head.

John Dodge knows what I mean. In Spellgame #1, Dodge, a Vegas con man, discovers his strange connection to a coming age of magic when the cards he deals come to life! Writer Dan Mishkin takes the audience on a virtual rollercoaster ride of underground gambling and underworld mysticism, introducing his Dodge and his sidekick Harry via a typical pick-a-card con, then suddenly throwing magic in the mix when the Jack of spades leaps from the deck, dons a suit, and takes some ladies to town. The fantastic scene is well executed by artist Ramon Perez, but when Dodge's victim realizes he's been had, the strange occurrence is seemingly dismissed as Dodge and Harry run from the cops. Later, Dodge chases a goblin through traffic and some goth punks capture and inexplicably attack him, until John commandeers their magic to fight back. Again, Perez does a very admirable job of blending this seemingly seamless blend of fantasy and reality, but Mishkin avoids addressing its weight with significant dialogue, other than Dodge's obligatory skepticism even in the face of the obviously supernatural. Still, the premise is promising, if only to explore that dark magic that must hold a city like Las Vegas together.

I'd be remiss not to mention Darwyn Cooke's fantastic cover, which actually sparked my interested in Spellgame a few years ago when I saw it as an ad in Chuck Satterlee and Norm Breyfogle's Of Bitter Souls. Interestingly, Of Bitter Souls also addressed the supernatural context of a prominent American tourist attraction, New Orleans, and perhaps this context inspired such a direction for Spellgame. Unfortunately, despite the involvement of Cooke, Breyfogle, and other top notch talent, Speakeasy Comics closed its doors in 2006; I wonder if the company would have achieved more success if its titles concocted this kind of thematic continuity, much in the same way as Dark Horse has cornered the goth spook market (i.e. Hellboy, The Goon, and its recent hit The Umbrella Academy).

Either way, like any trip to Vegas, a winning streak just can't last forever. If this first issue inspired me to follow up on anything, its finding more work by Ramon Perez. (A quick Google search uncovered his Calavera Studios site, which reminded me that I have seen his work in Butternut Squash #1. Thought it looked familiar . . .) See, Spellgame #1 proves it, that rolling the dice and taking a chance on a title based on its ad can be a good gamble.

Sparks: An Urban Fairytale #1

Sparks: An Urban Fairytale #1, May 1999, Slave Labor Graphics Publishing
by Lawrence Marvit
letterer: Chris Williams
digital assistance: Parker Moore, Jess Nowell
story assistance: Julie Bowdle, Marcus Smith, Al Reinhardt

Blogger's note: As I feared, my recent move has severely limited my Internet access, so until I hook up a wireless connection at home, I'm afraid A Comic A Day will suffer a little infrequency. While I may not be able to post daily, I will still post a review for every day I missed, doubling or maybe even tripling your pleasure the next time you visit! Also, our new two bedroom has finally given my extensive action figure collection some room to breathe, so I'm willing to take this temporary technological hit. That's right, my Bucky O'Hare figures are back on display, people! So you can live a day or two without a review, alright?

A few days ago, I asked what makes for a good first issue in a comic book series, and I’ve dedicated the first month of A Comic A Day: Year Two to the analysis of the “number one issue” phenomenon. What I didn’t reveal was one of my personal preferences in such an inaugural issue, an element that, when presented competently, is sure to bring me back for issue two. So what is this mysterious, all powerful characteristic? Motivation.

If a comic book writer, coupled with an artist’s capability to convey his characters’ emotions, can establish his protagonist’s motivations to the level of eliciting empathy from the reader -- in this case, me -- I believe he’s instantly achieved the crowning objective of all art: creating a connection with one’s general audience. In Sparks: An Urban Fairytale, writer/artist Lawrence Marvit accomplishes this mission well within the opening act of this first issue, establishing his urban setting and likening it to a fairytale kingdom, complete with the princess in search for her prince charming. Alas, unlike the comely lasses found in Disney’s stable of fantasy royalty, Joe (short for Josephine) is a tomboyish mechanic, as socially awkward as she is capable under the hood of a car. Her loneliness is transparent, from the emotion abuse she suffers from her father to her inability to meet a man worthy of her expectations. With little power over the former, she decides to combat the latter by, well, building her ideal mate. He isn’t much to look at, made up of spare parts around her automotive junkyard, but he’s enough to fulfill Joe’s fleeting fancies . . . until, unbeknownst to her by the end of this issue, a lightning bolt brings the behemoth to life.

Lawrence Marvit’s writing style and high contrast line work is extremely minimalist, even cartoonish in its presentation of his urban kingdom, but his words and pictures blend into a compelling coming of age, not to mention coming to life, allegory. Some pages shine more than others, but I confess that I’ve read a later issue of Sparks (number 9, I think, scored from a Slave Labor Graphics grab bag at an Alternative Press Expo a few years ago), and I know style evolves with his story for the better. What I appreciate most from this issue is what’s lurking behind Marvit’s panels, and in the hearts of his protagonist Joe -- that smoldering loneliness. Marvit makes it clear; dwelling in a city of thousands and working a job that makes her an asset to society, Joe is still overwhelming lonely. And her plight is completely understandable.

What is about loneliness that compels general audiences so? Consider, I Am Legend has become one the blockbuster movie of the holiday season, despite the fact that it story focuses on the last man on Earth during a time of year generally reserved for spending time with friends and family. Such a film could have easily succeeded during the highly competitive summertime, but its studio opted for the holiday season, when the loneliness of its protagonist stands in stark contrast to the family-oriented celebrations of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Is loneliness, or the fear of being alone, that persuasive to the common man? Surely we’ve all felt like the last man on Earth, but to escape into such a story seems ironic during the holidays. Comic books are just as guilty of this universal phenomenon. Think about Superman, the character that kicked off the modern comic book medium as we know it; billed as the last son of a doomed world, Superman sought to overcome his loneliness by downplaying his powers and blending in with society. Batman’s crusade against crime is arguably an attempt to fill the lonely void left by his murdered parents, and the secret to Spider-man’s success was the awkward adolescence to which Stan Lee was sure his readers would relate. Even more contemporary, independent comics about fledgling romance hinge on its protagonists’ need for companionship.

The bottom line is, in a world that feels more interconnected than ever thanks to the wonders of communications technology and the Internet, loneliness is still as affecting a motivation in literature as ever -- maybe even more so because of its poignancy in contrast to our shrinking world. Sparks: An Urban Fairytale touches that nerve with a twist; Joe’s Prince Charming is a barreling bucket of bolts with just enough sentience to understand her. To see Marvit’s meek heroine achieve the benefits of this relationship is enough to bring anyone back for a second issue. After all, the real reward isn’t in establishing Joe’s motivation, but in seeing her desires achieved, which is a story that couldn’t be confined to any single issue. Indeed, man can’t live on one issue alone . . .!

WWWednesday: Social Vermyn

WWWednesday: Social Vermyn
website: http://www.socialvermyn.com/
by John Hageman, Jr.

Despite my obsessive compulsion to buy comic books and comic book related merchandise (I just found the Justice League Unlimited Fire/Ice/Green Lantern three-pack and DC Superheroes Penguin and Orion at Target!), I haven't made the commitment to follow any webcomics yet. I really don't know why; webcomics are completely convenient and when presented properly can offer the most innovative art and storytelling of the entire medium. Perhaps I'm too old-fashioned to accept that webcomics are the beginning of the end for the beloved printed page; sure, newspapers and magazines still exist, but the likes of Matt Drudge and Perez Hilton are the proverbial Thomas Edison to print's smoke signal appeal. It's only a matter of time.

In short, Dr. Egon Spengler was close. Print isn't dead -- it's undead, lumbering forth like a zombie unwilling to accept its grave fate and looking for unsuspecting flesh to devour.

So, welcome to the first WWWednesday, my feeble 52-part attempt to embrace the future. The following disclaimer will precede every Wednesday review, to explain my intentions:

Every Wednesday, A Comic A Day boldly diverts from the printed page to read and review a different webcomic, examining at least its first, previous, and current installments. If you have a webcomic you'd like A Comic A Day to review, please e-mail me with a link to and a synopsis of your work. Put "Review my webcomic!" in the subject line so I don't mistake your request for spam . . . unless your comic is really called "Assuring Her Pleasure," in which case, tell me more!

My first WWWednesday review spotlights Social Vermyn because I sat next its creator John Hageman, Jr. at the last Alternative Press Expo in San Francisco, and he was kind enough to trade a few of my K.O. comics for a nice 11" by 14" drawing he'd been working on all weekend. I've already read quite a few of his strips thanks to our friendship on ComicSpace, so I thought revisiting his material would be an easy way to kick off this deviation from my norm. Thanks to John's timely good humor, I was right.

Social Vermyn chronicles the adventures of a potty-mouthed albino ferret named Victor who braves a nine-to-five desk job by day and bar hops at night, berating his friends for their shortcomings and judging the world for its social injustices . . . so its appeal for a twentysomething audience isn't too hard to understand. Despite Victor and friends' cute, cartoonish expressions, Social Vermyn isn't for kids, not that they'd understand the trials of fitting one's lunch in the staff lounge fridge anyway. The biting cynicism that surrounds John's exaggerated situations trumps the cuteness of his characters and is Social Vermyn's real strength; that his little heroes are rodents only epitomizes the fact they represent some of the basest tendencies of humanity. In other words, when its foremost character has to dodge a murder wrap with a little S & M-themed community service, you can rest assured Victor won't be seen on any given newspaper's comics section alongside Snoopy any time soon. I don't think that bothers his creator any, either.

The latest series of strips appropriately begins with an embittered commentary of corny Christmas parties and spirals into a Dickens-esque parody of dysfunctional family gatherings, defunct pop culture trends (using a Geico caveman as the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals how vapid this decade has become), and the dangers of toiling a literally dead end job. John's art is crisp and well colored, and his comedic timing is well-paced in the context of his month-long story, but the proofreader in me must critique the occassional typo and the way they unfortunately distract from the totality of each weekly installment. Though each installment of the "A Vermyn Christmas Story" series is twice the length of John's first strip, with almost three times the dialogue, a simple spell check would assure that his story holds up as surely as his art.

In conclusion, Social Vermyn is the perfect introduction to webcomics for cynics looking to pass a few idle minutes of their work day with a good laugh. Though Victor's predicaments and commentary are often a little extreme, and the comedy a little too dark for the light-hearted fare often found in the newspaper, this albino ferret's sarcastic perspective is enough to make anyone stifle a laugh for their boss's sake -- which is just the kind of social injustice these vermin were created to combat in the first place.

The Infinite Horizon #1

The Infinite Horizon #1, December 2007, Image Comics
by Gerry Duggan & Phil Noto
letterer: Ed Dukeshire

Folks use the phrase all the time, but it's one of the most subjective cliches ever. I mean, without a clear perception of the outcome, how can one be sure he's "off to a good start?" Well, in an attempt to embrace the concept completely this appropriately dubbed New Year's Day, the beginning of this A Comic A Day challenge will be an exploration of beginnings, or, in comic book terms, number one issues. Every issue I review in January will be a "number one" (in many cases only in numerical distinction, I'm sure) in the hopes of establishing what makes for a good start. And what better way to kick off such a journey than with a comic book that adapts one of the first epic stories of all time?

The Infinite Horizon is a "modern re-imagining of Homer's The Odyssey," according to its back cover synopsis, which, coupled with Phil Noto's artistic credit, was all I need to purchase this first issue. Interestingly, I often flip a comic book over to see what's in that back space, though I'm often met with just another "Got Milk" ad, or something. Real books utilize that space for plot synopses and critical praise, as if publishers know that most folks like to start where the book technically ends, so why shouldn't comics, particularly the sort without an internationally recognized superhero in the title, commandeer the same marketing technique? The Infinite Horizon may be based on one of the Western world's oldest stories, but its packaging represents a step forward in graphic design.

The context of The Infinite Horizon is rather progressive, too, considering its setting: the war in Iraq. Our proverbial Odysseus is a soldier assigned the responsibility of supervising and facilitating an airport and the subsequent evacuation of American civilians, but in Duggan and Noto's predictions, the Middle East's oil fields are a casualty of war. When the planes stop coming, our captain rallies his troops and makes a run across the desert for the nearest port, where he intends to sail to home. Of course, anyone that knows the story of Odysseus knows that home is a simmering challenge all to itself, and our captain's wife, whose name is still Penelope, is barely holding the front against potential suitors and battling land barons. Some things never change.

While Gerry Duggan's writing is very capable, Phil Noto's art is a neon explosion, splashing the desert's sepia tones with stark sky blues that pop off of the page as much as they drag you in. Though his characters sometimes lack the exaggerated proportions of typical comic book protagonists, these characters' rigidity reveal a tension brewing behind the scenes, the terrible adventure that is to come. What the characters need, and the lengths they'll go to acquire it, is transparent, and, interestingly, Duggan and Noto give us the outcome on the first page. "Getting back to her was my greatest achievement," is the first line. We know our hero gets home.

Yet, if The Infinite Horizon is a true adaptation of The Odyssey, we knew that anyway. Perhaps, when it comes to timeless storytelling, the beginning and the end aren't as important as bridging the gap between them.