Justin Wood Comic Reviews

Love it. Hate it. Feel indifferent about it. It's all nostalgically relative. All that is certain is it isn't as lazy as it could be, and for IDW, that's unfortunately saying something.

I'm still reading pre-RebirthBatman trades, even Snyder/Capullo stuff, in my free time these days. "Court of Owls", "RIP", "Dark Victory", that sort of thing. I'm not so jaded I can't enjoy a superhero book, I could use some Batman in my life right now, but as a critic for this website I can read all of the Bat-titles for free and I don't even feel the quiver of curiosity after Issue 2 for all of them. I'll go back to playing the Telltale Batmanor maybe do a second play-through of Arkham Originsif I need a fix. I can stop looking for meaning in this clunky saw-toothed Batarang of a book and just admit to myself that despite the stylization and attempt to reinvent the wheel, the result is clumsy, ugly, and doesn't stand up to what came before.

Why bother? Why continue when five years of existence hasn't resulted in much more than a tidy (and gratitude deserving) readership and a sub-par reputation with publishers? Because dissent is important. Because there are books out there that other sites just flat out won't read that I think, deserve some kind words. Because if we can't find it in ourselves to be honest, critically incisive, and frank to the hazard of some hypothetical reputation, then we might as well be the goddamn video game review industry. So I'll plant my flag. This book sucks. I wish it didn't, but it does, and I don't want people to feel crazy because they can't seem to find anyone else that agrees with them about that. Have an issue with that? Go comment on Comic Book Roundup about it.

My favorite ongoing series this year was my favorite ongoing series last year, from someone I am already a committed fan of. I don't gamble on Image or Black Mask titles anymore, because, despite the of diversity, there is a creeping sense of sameness to what is actually being written. Young Animal is a thing, and the Warren Ellis Wildstorm announcement is vaguely attention-nabbing, but so far what little I've read of Animal feels like a bunch of 30-year-olds forming a cover band after work, not the New Music. Comics, like any artform or movement of history, moves in tides. The tide is going out for me, but it'll return eventually. In the meantime, though, I'm just left with wet sand and something misshapen and formerly alive that got left behind, twisted in knots of kelp. I'll stare at it, at least for one issue more, before leaving it behind, hoping that the tide returns quickly to whisk it way, from the sand and memory.

It's a big opener, but it does leave me wondering how strong the follow-up can really be. Potentially intriguing or worrying, this opening act at the very least gives us a strong starting point for a new Aquaman story, if not a guarantee of a starting point for a whole new era for Aquaman himself. As Dustin Cabeal on the Comic Bastards podcast noted, Abnett promises a lot with big talk from Black Manta and failure to follow through on at least some of it could leave bitter disappointment with readers giving a hardly A-team hero another shot at their pocketbook. I'll reserve judgement till the book's next move is revealed and take this issue for what it is, a solid-looking read that delivers more than I imagined Aquaman would.

But most of all, they proved something that by now DC readers are more than familiar with: starting a story is easy, ending it is not. This story started on a good note, promising us a kind of Aquaman story we so rarely get: one that we might think about reading maybe. One that might have sort-of consequences. This ending, one issue after it started, is like drinking sea water. It looked so good from the outside as a thirsty man, but once it goes down you realize it was a horrible mistake and are just left more desperate for a drink than before.

Also, in this issue Jughead sits on the floor and watches Archie cook, and Archie pets his head like a dog.

Maybe I am boring. It is nearly midnight, and I'm in front of a computer at home, being unhappy about a comic that never really had a chance in appealing to me. I ate too much of the wrong things; the beer has worn off, and now I'm left trying to put words to the lack of anything I feel when I read these books. But there it is, isn't it? Beneath the ambitions to be art, to be personal, to capture imaginations, inspire controversy, or puppeteer the emotions, the simplest goal of media, the most primitive function, is simply to entertain. To provide an escape from the computer, and the job, and the aching shoulder. To be somewhere else that is just more interesting than here. Haven't found it here. I'll keep looking.

This is a book written for the same people who started applauding during 'Star Trek 09' when Scotty would say "I'm giving it all she's got Captain!". It's sloppy fanbaiting, made to service a disposable financial need thanks to the Internet's insatiable, if fickle, appetite for novelty. I would argue however, that it is probably the best 'Back to the Future' comic prequel we could hope for. In the original trilogy, Gale and Zemeckis did a pretty complete job at exploiting their premise, never creating a universe that extends beyond its location and window of time, leaving no real room for improvement via expansion. This book is the best there is at what it does, and what it does is entirely pointless.

I enjoyed this issue. I'm not in love with the story, I'm not hungrily awaiting the next issue to see where this story goes next, but I was engaged from beginning to end, which is surprising for a title I had zero interest or faith in previously. Do you know how nice that is? It seems so rare to have a book not rock my world, but at least make a solid damn attempt to entertain me in a simple manner. I don't know why Barb is back, but I can at least tell you that now, I don't mind that she is.

It's not awful however, and if you are a fan of the Burnside Batgirl comics, this will probably itch that scratch quite nicely. I was probably going to take points off anyway for putting the 'girl' in 'Batgirl', rather than the woman I'd read for decades, but hey, Gwenpool is an ongoing now. Sometimes you've just got to surrender to the fact that some characters will end up sacrificed to the upvote gods. It could be worse, however. I didn't suffer. I don't hate myself after reading this. So, hey, DC. You done good. For you.

Somewhere deep in my body, there's the tickle. A tickle of the geek that used to care about this sort of thing, the fan that existed before cynicism drove him to better shores of art and stories at Image and indies. That old forgotten hate for this shit. There's hope yet folks. You, too, can hate again.

It doesn't have to exist, but because it's a cartoon thing on television, it has to exist. There's nothing more to be said, I won't be back for another issue, it's just another formless grey corner of my memory now, populated by the offerings of publishers that perform the same kind of function that companies that print paper plates of whatever superhero movie is in theaters for kid's birthday parties. Buy it, don't buy it, they've already printed it; what you hold in your hand is part of a future landfill. Enjoy if you can.

A paragraph at the end would have been nice. 'You were supposed to feel * blank *'. Maybe excited. Maybe intrigued. Maybe angry that the Spanish killed n' tortured a lot of people in the name of God. Feeling conflicted about what you should be feeling or what you are feeling is an interesting thing to play with in fiction. It's uncomfortable for the audience and might make them challenge their opinions or leave them to experience uncommon sensations. The question that is good to ask is why or should I have felt the way I did. The question you don't want an audience asking is why didn't I feel anything.

This is embarrassing. Not for the writers or the artist, this is probably what they set out to accomplish (verdict out on the colorist though). This is embarrassing for Dynamite. They print too many books and hold too many properties to be operating on this level. While Boom and IDW try their hand at Image style creator owned properties (results vary, but still), Dynamite publishes a title that feels less polished than those Harley Davidson/Marvel comics where Harley's defeat the Wrecking Crew or some shit. Writers, artists, I can forgive you. This isn't good, but there's a chance that you think this is good. Dynamite, you should know better.

I need this election to be over. Either way, we go, we're fucked it seems. Camps sanctimoniously entrench themselves in their ideologies and hurl insults at each other over the Internet, firing sexism, racism, and progressive condescension at each other with such sincerity and venom you'd think they thought they could kill those that disagree with them with retweets. Talking heads talk of change but the meteorology report suggests things are either going to stay the same and crap or get much, much worse. In fact, where this comic failed, the comic industry itself provides the much clearer allegory for the election. Except the election ends. November 8th everybody gets to throw out their cheap yard signs for another three and a half years. Comics, on the other hand. These comics. Well, they'll just keep coming, won't they?

At a time when the game culture debate is still as hotly contested and hyperbolic as ever, I don't think it is too bold to say that Chainmail Bikiniis required reading for participants in said debate. This anthology creates a tapestry of experience interwoven in with its passionately defended politics that invites the reader into empathy with the women who find their passions and pastimes the target of controversy. This isn't the be-all-end-all of female gamers discussing the medium, but for male readers it can be a deeply felt and personal primer on the female gamer experience, in a wealth of its forms, while for some female readers it might strike a resonant chord of relateability. It has great art, it has meaningful writing, and a steady hand organizing it all into a thoroughly readable package. And who knows, maybe something it inside will shift the very ground under your feet.

What you get in Chimichanga is so startlingly basic and formulaic, so guilelessly devoid of originality that it felt like it could have only sprung from earnest untested youth, anxious to entertain but lacking basic tools to be creative. This comic was joyless to read despite leaning so completely on the idea that it was being fun, like a child trying to get you to watch it dance in a busy supermarket.

Clarence fans don't have any reason to worry about this book. It's respectful to the property, as well-written as you could expect a Clarencecomic to be, and professionally, if not memorably, illustrated. However, at the very least for me, the comic failed to capture the ineffable quality that makes Clarencethe thoroughly watchable show that it is, something that likely can't be captured exactly on the static comic page.

'Colder: Toss the Bones' has echos of the early arcs of Neil Gaiman's 'Sandman' and Grant Morrison's 'The Invisibles'; that early 90's punk/beat influenced surrealism and black-natured whimsy. However, where Gaiman knew how to use literary archness to create a foreboding tone and Morrison was fully off his rocker, 'Colder' feels more like mimicry than madness, feeling around for that spark but not quite grasping it. Maybe one day I'll take the time to go back and experience the series properly, and I might even find this review entirely wrong in its assertions, but until then the greatest pleasure and awe I derive from this series is admiring the book closed, to appreciate its richly illustrated covers.

Readers unfamiliar or uninterested in superhero storytelling don't need any complex experience with DC's publishing history to understand and be engaged by the haunted house story within and long time comic readers might find particular pleasure in the classic approach that reframes some of the strongest traditions of comic mystery storytelling. Believe me, rich, creepy storytelling like this is genuinely and unfortunately hard to come by, so if you look forward to October and everything that comes with it as much as I do, go to your local shop and pick this up. The only downside is I can't read the whole damn thing right now.

I might check out the third issue of Delia Awesome, but I have to say that my expectations are more likely set on the content of the second issue than my impression of the first. Things can only get more superhero-ey as things go on I imagine, and that's where it loses me. Delia's life was a mess, she was self-aware of how she used her boyfriend's success as a mask to her own failed ambitions, and we were taken on the trip of her spiral down the drain. I did look forward to a story where she found her way out, a Frances Ha-esque story of twenty-something redemption, and the bitter rewarding journey that could ensue. I am infinitely less interested if the solution to her problems was giving her superpowers. I do want to emphasize I was actually engaged by the relationship dialog in the first issue, no small feat considering my lukewarm taste for general relationship drama, especially involving young people. I'll give it credit, it is trying something, I just hope it can figure out how t

Gotham will burn again, but only in this book. Do you really think that the two main Bat-titles will cross over with this? No, because even DC, whose name is derived from the title of this comic, considers these books an afterthought. Scott Snyder's superstar title has kept their fingers clinging to the edge of the Best Seller list for months, letting his arcs dominate other books whenever the scale feels precedented (how many of you flipped through 'Red Hood and the Outlaws' for the first and only time because of 'Death of the Family'?) because it's Scott's Batworld, everyone else just writes in it. Gotham will burn, and not even DC is impressed by that anymore. Why should we?

Oh, I liked the art in the book a little more than last time. Less crowded rooftop shots. It helped.

I may have spent most of the review being negative, but overall Exlibriumwas far easier to read than a lot of comperable American attempts at the same thing. The art wasn't full of shortcuts. While pandering the book actually seemed to want to be relateable, not your buddy. I want to read the second issue, that should say more than enough of how this succeeded despite its flaws. And while I'm not over the moon for it, there are a lot of people I can see really digging this book and its protagonist. It's one thing to be happy to see more international comics being made availible to American readers, it's another to see books that I feel are easy to recommend and have this kind of slick production. Comic shop owners take note: Russia might not be the source of the next big international comics boom but they might have some titles your customers didn't know they needed.

Fun Adventure Comics may not linger strongly in my brain by the end of the year, but this is a comic designed like many failures but somehow succeeding and looking more confident than a lot of their small-publisher competitors. Retro is hard and often a lazy patch for a lack of forward gazing creativity, but here it is a comfortable if slight guilty pleasure, administered to visually by some talented artists. I'll be interested to see where this book goes in the future, and that is praiseworthy enough for me.

Do I care what happens next in 'G: Honor and Curse'. No. The story doesn't have an original hook to excuse the wealth of clich and Western ninja stories are a dime a dozen in comics. However, if there had been more pages I would have kept reading. I wasn't bored and while I can't quite pinpoint exactly why that was, the overall professional presentation and competency makes this one of the better genuinely indie action books I've picked up in a while. If you're the kind of person who loves trope heavy Western martial arts media then I'm the wrong person to ask the opinion of, but the best I can say is I'd recommend it to you. It doesn't pretend to be more than a simple familiar story, and in this case it works.

I don't resent Galaxfreaks existence. Like I said, it's a pretty harmless enterprise. I could imagine con merch for something like this being popular with a certain crowd at conventions, and clearly, the creator isn't hurting for resources if he's publishing a tie-in title to a self-published effort. As work to criticize, however? To stack up against other works I've read from a broad spectrum of creators and styles? There's nothing here to stick. Unlike the weird gems that have gummed onto my brain over the years, Galaxfreaks is one that feels particularly, almost intentionally, insubstantial. I'm left feeling like I simply stepped through the book and continued on my way.

Books like this are less marketable works and more creative outlets, something to sell at local cons and tell stories that the writers and artists like but have limited mainstream appeal. I'll admit it, it's not always fun to read, especially when the books dip well beneath professional quality, but at least with this issue I had a pretty good time. The book has stronger art than some larger scale anthologies, which I definitely appreciated and was grateful for. What else can you say? Credit where credit is due.

Having not read the seemingly convoluted awful last few years of Green Lantern stories, my ignorance should have been a boon to storytellers wanting to take my shekels with a fresh take and nothing to prove. Instead, all they did was remind me that it was probably for the best that I already wasn't a reader.

Great art, simple story. Tip of the hat to Mignola and his crew to not leave us hanging this Halloween season.

So, if you've made it this far, what say you fair reader? Is it awkward and icky reading someone gush unconservatively about a really good piece of nasty smut they found? Maybe it is, but I'm unconvinced that that should prevent us from sharing. Media, all media, is mutual experiences that we are all able to participate in, albeit in our own way. Whether it's laughing, crying, cringing, or coming, a good comic is a good comic and is only limited by the individual quality of craft. Everton has crafted something great and I just wanted to take a moment to share it with you, even if you decide to enjoy it in complete privacy. Or with someone else. Or a bunch of people. Whatever floats that boat.

Unfortunately, I came away from this title feeling unimpressed, a reaction I've been having more frequently to Mignola's non-Hellboy books. Mignola has always been a formula writer, generally to his credit, but despite the spooky cool decorations there isn't any surprise here. If you want a book with atmosphere and competent dialogue you certainly could spend your money on worse comics, but I think I'll probably pass on issue two.

I'll say it again; Titan is lucky to have a book that is this good. It's one of the best first issues I've read from Ennis since 'The Boys', and definitely should have a place in the pull of anyone with a soft-spot for history. Go buy it. I'll just be waiting here for Ennis to finally figure out how to disappoint me.

Like a lot of indie titles, I like the premise but feel let down by the execution. Reading Kimot Ren you also can feel how much the writer liked the idea as well, the pacing of the storytelling doesn't feature that familiar tangy whiff of elevator pitch storytelling, where every issue has to end on a genre inverting twist. The art too is professional and occasionally really nicely accomplished. Where Kimot Ren falls short is, like so many other period pieces, underestimating the requirements of its genre, and setting up a predicament that requires cunning and guile and neglecting to include either. Kimot has yet to face a problem that a bemused frontier yokel doesn't solve for him by being uncharacteristically easy-going and accommodating. Does that sound like the West to you? Like a story of survival? As much as I wanted to enjoy this book, it certainly didn't read like one, and therein lies the problem.

The weird part isn't that someone is telling an origin story with Santa as a well-meaning action hero destined to be everyone's favorite wintertime home invasion specialist, it's that Grant Morrison apparently thought that it was a good idea.

I wasn't immersed by 'Land of the Witching Hour', but I do admire it. Care and creativity is on display here, and the nature of the story allows it to proceed as unpredictably as the author sees fit. We may not get a promise as to what comes next, but what is on display here is strong enough to warrant the look.

Apologies for the vagueness, and read the book for yourself if I sound unsure of my opinion. Nothing about this book is bad and supporting the professional effort is worthwhile. Make up your own mind, but for me the only real compelling reason I feel to personally read the second issue is to more firmly make up my mind about this book, one way or the other.

I can't recommend it, but I can't condemn it. Alas, that feels like the best review I give a lot of indies, but such is the creator owned market. There are far worse comics out there, however, and while the story doesn't show creative promise, it doesn't mean it couldn't develop over time into something more original rather than so blatantly derivative. Still, you'd have a hard time bringing me back. Fantasy without a hook in the elevator pitch is about as exciting as the self published Batman/Punisher clones or horror anthologies that make up a bulk of the creator owned field at convention season. Making comics can be fun, but if it can't stand out then the comic will remain fun for one person alone, the person who wrote it.

It's far from the worst thing I've read; it's not even the worst thing I read this week, but who are these kinds of books made for? They must make some kind of money, because non-Big Two publishers keep printing them, but these are the kinds of books that don't even get resold by comic dealers at conventions when they are trying to dump their least successful stock. Reading bad comics is never fun, but it almost feels worse when you read a mediocre one that feels like it was designed to be clutter.

While I may have sounded overly critical in places, I should note that this book is in most ways utterly above reproach. It is rare on the site to get my hands on a work like this: one created so confidently by veterans of their craft, devoid of crass commercial interest. Despite my detractions, this is a fine work of art and will likely stick with me when looking back 12 months from now. I can't say the work always felt complete or earned all of the streaks of sick it left in my mind, but it stands yet as a striking work of two storytellers exhibiting unquestionable command over this beautiful medium.

I found myself having to use the press release as a guide to the motivations of this book. The first story was intended to be about 'honor' and 'justice', but while both of those words are spoken a lot in dialogue and is the main motivation of the lead character Skullsplitter I never found the kernel of the story that made it 'about' honor, and certainly nothing that suggested it said anything about love. The second story is built on a premise of twisted love, a quite good one at that, but ends up feeling like a surface feature of the story, with an ending that relies on a more nuanced and capable approach to creating connections with characters.

Overall, a good standalone issue and one of the nicer looking one-shots I've read from Boom's all ages lines. For established readers and new ones, it's pretty accessible and doesn't lean heavily on the existing series for context. Give it a shot. Or don't. All things considered, not being a fan or in the target demographic, my opinion as a 'Lumberjanes' reader is questionably relevant. As a fan of comics though? Read away.

It's a professional production in the strictest sense, but this is not a work of creativity, merely one of marketing. Instead of reading this, go hunt down the show and enjoy what a neat job those animators did choreographing that big end fight scene. If you are going to experience 'Miraculous' you might as well do it the way it was always intended to be.

We'll see what Mother Panic grows into, granting a healthy start but not a thrilling one. The central gimmick, with Violet's specific rage being aimed towards her fellow filthy rich Gothamites, isn't particularly well communicated here and certainly less clearly than another book with a similar, less subtle approach to the same idea Renato Jones: The ONE%. The book, as well as Violet herself, claims she's not just another Bat Fam member. This is fine to say but prove it. Besides getting to yell "fuck the Bat" uncensored on the comic page, we have yet to see anything that we can't, and haven't, gotten elsewhere. This isn't a robot man exploding out of a discarded gyro or a blond waif projecting a blue elephant into a hospital lobby. It's a woman in armor punching guys in an alley again. And I can't really complain thus far. But "fuck the Bat"? Prove it. Let's see something new. And if you come up with something, I'll be here waiting.

I like everything so far, but it's also thin ground to be building on, reminding me a bit of Arcana's Rocket Salvage; entertaining but not memorably distinctive from the slew of stories it drew its inspiration from. Frankly, I think it's also that popcorn is just a hard sell for me this year, not getting enough 4-color nutrition as it is to be dropping hard won cash on amusing shooty-bang-bangs. Still, I will be back, because this is the best new Image property I've read this year I think, keeping my interest and leaving me looking forward to expanding the world and characters further. At the very least the authors knew they had actually made a book to go with their elevator pitch, which is more than I can say for some.

Critiques aside, this is what I look for in an anthology. Talent I was unaware of, stories from across the emotional spectrum, balancing each other with editorial confidence. It brings me back to those good old days, seeing just what a sea of imagination we live in, with creators bringing us the best of what they love.Only, you know. With more frottage.

'Once Our Land' is not just a great indie story, it's a personal time capsule of an artist, one you've probably not read before. Unlike paging through the juvenilia of a celebrity creator, seeing this artistic journey from I creator I was unaware of before made the reading experience more personal and revealing. It's a book I definitely recommend, not just to fans of good stories and beautiful comics, but people who consider themselves as much fans of the creators themselves as their creations.

This is our industry. A dirge of worthless pulp flowing over comic art stands. I wish variants didn't own my local shop, so I didn't have to see people shelling out $20 for something like Scooby Apocalypse, but such is publishing and we'll keep feeding the beast. Whatever. I pay my dues as a critic. But at the end of the day I'll settle down with a copy of Dark Night or Angora Napkinand remember that there is still real care put into art in certain wings of this industry. Just not in the books with double digit variants.

Overall, 'Ray Gun' does a better job with the a bit too familiar high concept story than a lot of its peers, with a good bit of credit going to the solid art. Won't change the game any, but it's among the better things I've read this week.

It's too early to tell how engaged I'll be by the story as it progresses. I may be an Ennis fanboy, but even I can't love everything he writes (although I try, baby. I try). So far I like the voices of the main characters and the book seems to be largely about them and their job, so a good sign. My recommendation is it's probably worth going back to read the original Red Teambefore picking this up, but if you don't feel like putting in the effort to update your Amazon queue, this book is very readable on its own. It's a simple cop story, and for once that isn't a bad thing.

No, Reggie and Me didn't change my world, nor was it every likely to, but it told a story without feeling desperate to be different which is not what I've come to expect from the rebooted Archie line. The matter-of-factness about it made it contradictorily refreshing, never feeling confused, annoyed, or overly aware a panel was likely designed to be retweeted. If Archie scratches your itch, this is probably one of the better attempts at doing a standalone Reggie story as we could expect, even if it doesn't break new ground. I don't really expect any more, but even if you do, there is nothing about this that immediately precludes giving it a chance to impress you.

If this review sounds negative it isn't intended to be. 'Satellite Sam' is one of my favorite indies on the shelf from one of the most consistently valuable mainstream comic writers working today, and it should be said that it's too early to call a flat-line on a mystery that has only begun to form. I may not care who killed Satellite Sam, but it's still well worth keeping dialed in.

Chaykin's art continues to be stellar, at this point further praise just becomes redundant, perfectly suited for Fraction. With the conclusion of the issue seeming to be the start of the mystery's actual investigation it looks like we're in for the long haul as Micheal begins slowly pulling threads from his father's secret life, but reading a monthly book of this quality and maturity, I say the longer the better.

I'm not going to claim any disappointment here, I already cringed it out from the cover when it was first announced. I will say however I was genuinely surprised by how awful it was, a spectacular landmark in Scooby's library that overshadows any recent projects that come to mind. Don't exchange a cent for this book, but find a good play-by-play review if you can find one online, so you can enjoy the fetid treats in this book from a safe, financially ethical, distance.

Only a few hours into October when I write this, and I've already been weirdly blessed with not just two of the best books I've read this year, but two of the best horror books I've read in a while. While Deadman: Dark Mansion of Forbidden Lovetook care of the Old Dark House side of the Halloween spirit, Semiautomagictakes the more grand nightmare side of things. Halloween comics are usually not this good to me, and I am more than grateful to have something legitimately creative and eerie to read again in the 31 day lead up to Halloween. Read this. Get it on paper, so you can flip through Ordway's art from time to time. Di Campi might be walking some familiar ground, but Semiautomaticmakes a damn good case for the revisit.

The reason I'm not harsher with this book is I think it's really a hobby comic. Something somebody drew because they wanted to tribute their favorite things in comic form rather than necessarily try to create the next hot ticket property for syndication and a toy line. I'm not saying that makes it admirable; it just makes it less obnoxious. That and Sick in the Headisn't as annoying or poorly written as other books I've read with the same DNA, despite this needing to edit out at least ten to twenty unnecessary filler pages minimum. It's fine that this exists. However, when you submit a piece of media to be evaluated critically, you put yourself in competition with everything that critic has ever come across, essentially requesting that your work be positioned on the spectrum of their experience as an audience member. Here at Bastards, we read a lot of comics. We read a lot of comics like this. We read enough that we end up talking in our reviews, not about the details of said comic, bu

There is so much in here I should not like, but find myself looking forward to reading a second issue. As an introduction, we have yet to see what the story will really read like, but the pieces are set to be fun and maybe even clever. At the very least I am relieved after weeks of trudging uphill through clingy muck to read something that feels professional, capable, and maybe even genuinely enjoyable. I've always been a sucker for super-science, even the ridiculous kind, and I'd be happy to see how far this book will take us. I can still find it in myself to be optimistic. Cautious, but optimistic.

The comic industry is small and vulnerable to shifts in the landscape, your dollar is more influential than you think, especially at the shop level. So vote for dignity folks. Keep creators employed, the medium evolving, and keep stale meme pushers like Smosh where they belong.

Sonic: Mega Drive isn't a game-changing story, but it is stand-out example of how licensed comics should be done. It's respectful to the property and the era it recalls, puts genuine talent on illustrating it, and never tries to do too much. It reminds you how fun that era of gaming could be, nostalgia without the sense of irony, cynicism, or questionable expertise that I have come to associate with the marketing trend. I would read more of this. I would read more by this team doing something else. Sonic hasn't been this fun or good looking in ages, and maybe Sega could take some pointers from this classy and entertaining direction.

I could go on about the Tesla element, but it's hard to tell how meaningful his appearance will be to the rest of the series. In the end, that's what stood out, distractingly, in a book of unrelated elements. That's the unrealized cost of name dropping celebrities, suddenly an insubstantial background character demands more attention from the audience and the author, laying the burden of proof at the feet of the writer to show any degree of familiarity with the person they feel comfortable mooching off of the legacy of. Instead, it'd be nice if we could all agree to leave the poor deceased pigeon-loving bastard alone and go about inventing new characters instead. Then, and only then, can we begin the work on the real challenge: creating original characters interesting enough to bother addressing in a review.

I am a critic. My voice and influence is limited. I do not make or break books, so I don't act as the arbitrating figure of the employer in my opening metaphor. It's not in my power to influence, only to assess and voice opinion in a public forum. However, if the goal is to make one's fortune on the back of another caped crusader, do you know who does act as the avatar of said employer? Studios. Editors. Television executives. Anyone you would seek to impress, to sell your wildly original ideas to, to astound with the biggest industry flipping product since The Tick. They might not be in the habit of handing out golden tickets, but they are watching, they might even pick up your book. And if the very first thing they see leap out at them, as it did to me, on the opening page of your punchy-cape opus is a basic punctuation error? The book might as well had never passed into their hands.

While I appreciate a lot of Boom's all-ages lines for being some of the better licensed comics from the major publishers, 'Steven Universe and the Crystal Gems' highlights a lot of the reasons I tend to stay away from the miniseries companions to their ongoing titles; asking readers to fork over more money each month for content that often doesn't provide more bang for the buck or stories that benefit or require what should be a highlight format. The miniseries format should be where the property can take some risks aesthetically or narratively, but having worked in a comic shop, I've seen titles like the 'Adventure Time' minis consolidated into one shapeless stack of unsold issues, treated like comic shelf clutter. This comic isn't bad, but with so many titles fighting for shelf space out there, I can't say I blame comic shop owners when these books get lost in the shuffle.

Supergirl is securely at the most a B-list character, and this book is similarly B-list. I like a lot about it, but at the end of the day, it will have to perform quite the feat of strength to earn its place on the shelf as more than just 22 pages of ad space for a television show.

I didn't hate T.I.T.S because it didn't insult me with its quality. Sure, it's lazily misogynistic and already broken from a plotting standpoint (seriously self-publishers, plot out your issues not just your arcs), but time was spent to make the book look sellable, and it at least made me want to be on its side initially. The lesson of T.I.T.S is simple: it is worth your time and money to pay talented people to illustrate your book, but it's worth more to write something worth illustrating in the first place.

And what more should we expect? I've said it before about certain superheroes, but it's even more applicable here when dealing with a counterculture icon; why would we expect the relevance to last forever? The original Tank Girl comics are still great to read, but what was punk in the early 90's just doesn't resonate the same way today, especially when removed from the artists that brought the character to wicked life in '88. Extending Tank Girl's life as property is inevitable I suppose, but disappointing; there are new frontiers in scandal and anarchy to forge and it won't be done in the pages of yesterday's provocateurs. Not that I should have expected any differently, but it's crystal clear now.

Ultimately, the mild gripes don't affect what is otherwise a great collection of a genuinely great work in an under-appreciated wing of graphic storytelling. Knoxville doesn't know how lucky they are to have an artist like this creating for them, and hopefully, people beyond the Tennessee border are finding and appreciating this work as well. I can't say it quite convinces me to start giving Pearls Before Swine and their ilk a spot in my daily routine, but I'd definitely think about that newsprint subscription if somehow Spirit of the Staircase was among their number.

I would look forward to reading more Miru. My one reservation is, like I had re-enforced with Aquaman this last week, it is very easy to start a story and much harder to maintain it. Miru's story is pretty familiar and while this issue reads well and seems to have some creativity to it, it could be a story that doesn't have anywhere interesting to go. However, as a single first issue, Miru is a good likable read with a pleasantly unconventional style. Fantasy is common because it is often easy to write because writers assume, like with horror, that it doesn't require anything more than applying the usual tropes. Because of this, it's rare I find new fantasy books I like, so consider me gratefully surprised that this one fits the bill. At the very least, you'll see me back for Issue #2.

I may sound like I've nitpicked a lot for this supposedly positive review, but let me clarify: this has been a pretty bland week in comics for me, and this book was by far the only indie I read that I enjoyed in the slightest. For a comedy comic with such a familiar premise, this is a good damn book. It's not good enough that if you don't like stoner comedy that this will overcome that, but for guys like me who have seen 'Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle' more times than 'The Godfather', this is a surprisingly solid entry into that genre. It's charming as fuck, and Lange did a lot to overcome a lot of my expectations for a book with a beaver with a blow-up doll in it. Regardless of criticisms, I want to read the next issue and hope to see this book get even better. It's good looking, it made me laugh, and I want more, because it's nice change of pace to be surprised for once.

By the end of the issue, however, the book had sold me on its premise. It doesn't seem to want to aim for grand, instead being a story about daily survival and human will, the tenaciousness of a species fighting to survive itself. While vague on its promises of future direction, the first issue establishes a decent base from which to grow; a spunky lead, a different take on the burned out future, and lots of directions to go in a second issue. The apocalypse is getting pretty stale as a jumping off point, but it's all just window dressing if the characters are strong enough and the story keeps you turning the page.

Not much left to say. It'd make a dumb one-shot, but instead it makes a bewildering first issue. It's not that what happens in the final page is confusing, it's confusing that that is how this issue ends. Like we're supposed to get chills at the cleverness of ending it on such a daring note. At least I can sort of relate to not properly knowing how to finish a piece of writing. Take this review for example.

I didn't love reading The Mindgator, but this is what reading indie comics should be: an act of discovery. I didn't know who Mulule Jarvis was as a creator before I read this, and now I'm glad that I do; the dude can thrash a pen. I don't demand that indie comics always be perfect to be worth reading, I just want more of them to try something different. Packaging stories according to the principles that major publishers operate under is a wasted opportunity, underestimating and misinterpreting the freedoms that creating without corporate demands allows. Comics are only one step removed from being the most artistically accessible artform to creators after the written word, there being no real limitation on creating grand stories beyond the individual's personal ability with storytelling and illustration. A filmmaker needs millions to tell the kind of story a comic book artist can tell with a pen, a Strathmore artboard, and a flatbed scanner, and it sucks to see people chalking subpar lo

The book is professionally presented and is never aggressively bad, but the well has dried and yet we still have so many writers trying to draw from it. Superheroes, satirical or not, only elevate beyond silly tights adventures when they can connect to something human beyond their superhuman premises. Even the most cynical comics about heroes know that these characters represent something of us in them, whatever that might be, mighty or weak. For it to work, the satire really has to be about that connection. Otherwise, all you've got are jokes about tights.

I might read the next issue, not out of curiosity with how the story ends, but just because the book was a satisfying simple read. For all the shit we give Dynamite on this site (much of it well deserved I might add), this issue was a nice exception to my usual expectations.

But here's the twist, the bent logic this far too literal critic needs to remain sane in the face of this monstrosity: I'm kind of glad it exists. Somewhere in the world a highly talented illustrator drew a highly detailed, gratuitously violent action sequence in excruciating detail for over 100 pages, like a grindhouse zen exercise, and published it in color. While a nightmare to experience in any kind of methodical fashion, as a sort of bizarre pop artifact Shaolin Cowboy: Shemp Buffetis kind of a miracle. Do I recommend you read it? No. But if you wanted to have it on your coffee table to amuse and impress your weirder friends, it's a good investment. It's a work of art, regardless of how valuable a work you might think it is in the long run. A strange, bewildering, insufferable, impressive piece of unreadable art. In that respect, reviewing it is kind of silly, but my verdict stands. I'm glad art like this exists in the world, but I also don't have to pretend to enjoy it.

It's nice to know that someone still writes stories for geeks.

As a story, Vigilanceis confused and directionless. As a showcase for art, it's pretty likable and surprising. I can't recommend reading a book on the latter alone, but at the very least you can takeaway that Nogueira deserves whatever attention this book might bring to him. Look him up.

With 'Who Needs the Moon?' I begin to take a more pointed interest in McCullough as a creator. As a self-publisher, two series that are both written and illustrated by the creator is ambitious, and the kinds of stories he has interest in telling may have familiar set ups but seem to feature a good deal of personal vision rather than borrowing someone else's. With little more than tone to set up our story so far, there is no guarantee that 'Who Needs the Moon?' will be so engaging in the long run, but I am intrigued so far enough to say I will be back to find out.

I still don't know where this story is going, but unlike the first issue, I no longer find that concerning. Whereas many indie artists can make their stories frustrating when the plots wind about without a strong sense of direction, Todd McCollough demonstrates a surprising command of tone and atmosphere for a self-published creator, this issue being the best work of indie horror I've read in a long time that wasn't written by an established creator with decades of experience behind them. It's the kind of story I picture would have difficulty finding a home in the cliffhanger heavy, tv scripting influenced publishing world, making me more grateful that this writer/artist chose the less fiscally rewarding path of publishing the work himself, rather than trying to shape it into something less interesting that an editor might jump for. The theme of the year still stands, but as of yet, Who Needs the Moon does a fine job of being the exception to both.

I am cautiously optimistic that all of this was set up for something more interesting down the road, I'm just not sure why we needed that many pages and a hardcover format to set up so little.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to wash the memory of Page 10, Panel 2 out of my mind.