Tardi's consummate art " wildly detailed panels filled with prolific and inventive architecture/design and experimental plot expression " is unable to take facility and be properly appreciated when the disturbing racist imagery and language used (indicative of this book and the other similar genre classics of the era) act as cement shoes to the narrative focus.

Fist fights, robot battles, quips, and everything else you would want in a Power Rangers comic presented in bright, concise art.

With all the heart that Onion Skin wears on its sleeve, this book could easily be a Part One to a seriously wicked epic. That being said, even without more exposition, every gear of it still turns smoothly and I'm one reader who is hungry for more.

My Begging Chart doesn't have the predictability of a medical drama, or the tribulations of a recovery story. Instead, Roberts' illness takes a back seat to a narrative, neatly told as background among the almost trivial moments of everyday life " making an especially effective stage for quiet, thoughtful insights.

The on-page sense of impending disaster feels like a growing tidal wave that you can see on the horizon. Exactly what Holt plans to do with that beats me, but damn is it exhilarating.