I love Saga for being full of hope and joy in the midst of chaos and death. I love the characters that love each other, realistically getting into fights and venting their annoyances and narrowly avoiding certain death together. I love that the story can feature things like a lie-detecting cat, people with televisions for heads and a gigantic troll named Fard without seeming slapstick. I love the feeling of discovering a truly new, truly unique fantasy so entirely innovative it swallows my imagination whole. And I love being able to unashamedly lose myself in a comic like this, if for only a few pages once a month, and to fly in my living wooden rocketship to see those far-flung stars.

An arc this impressive happens only once in every hundred titles or so. This title has permanently changed the way I look at each character to have passed through its pages in the last three years, and it has opened my eyes to a world of emotions I didn't know I could feel about fictional characters. These are anti-heroes without the tired baggage of late 2000's anti-hero stereotypes. These are men and women who think they're good.

I am eagerly awaiting the final moments of this story. If you're wondering, it's definitely worth the money.

It's still one of my must-reads this month, and will be until it ends in issue #12. Morrison has done more for the Batman franchise than anyone else since Chuck Dixon, or maybe even Adams and O'Neil, as far as revitalizing it, making it personal, and turning it into something larger than life after long years of Bat-boredom. His work paved the way for the wonders Scott Snyder is currently doing on the main Batman title, and stirred the whimsical sweetness of Silver Age comics back into the bitter flavor of the modern-day—some would say Dark Age—costumed crimefighter. This is Morrison's final Batman epic, and I cannot wait to see the Ragnarok of this breathtaking and mystifying Batman mythology.

Grant Morrison has taken us on a wild ride for the last seven years. His run on the Batman character, through various titles and miniseries, has been mythological in scope and scale, turning Bruce Wayne from man into an elemental force and ripping him from Gotham City into the cosmic void and back again. His Batman has faced death, numerous lifetimes of pain, and the end of time itself"but he has endured with fists clenched and teeth bared. With a salute to the writers and artists of years past, Morrison makes Batman's timeline an eldritch meta-fiction "explaining" how every Batman story ever told formed the foundation of the canon of today. And it was trippy stuff.

Saga #13 hits the red ring, but not the bullseye. That's still an accomplishment, and I'm sure it's a one-time slip"a jerk of the trigger finger, a catch in the breath, dust in the eyes"and we'll be back to nailing dimes next month. But as much as I'm infatuated with everything to do with Saga, this chapter falls slightly short.

The Court of Owls may have sentenced him to die, but Talon gets a pass in my book.

I adore Gail Simone. I really do. (Commitment not to gush: BROKEN.) Not only is she a wonderful and admirable person, she's a gifted and powerful writer; and I'm not employing even the slightest exaggeration when I say that. But I think her innate ability to write dynamic characters was squelched by the overbearing plot of the currently-running Death of the Family crossover. As a part of the bigger picture, this issue fits perfectly. As a single issue, it falls a bit short. I highly anticipate Simone's future work; both the closing of her Batgirl run and her independently published graphic novel Leaving Megalopolis. (So. Excited.) I also am desperately hoping and praying for the return of Secret Six—because I'm allowed to dream. This issue, however, has nothing that makes me root for Simone so much as it makes me chant for the overthrow of DC's editorial staff...Y'know. For reasons other than the obvious.

I'll keep following til it's not free anymore. God knows if I spent twenty bucks on it already, I might as well enjoy Silvestri's covers and Pham's art (which I still love, regardless) for a few more issues. But for anyone looking for a story with heart? Look elsewhere. This ain't it.

Altogether, I wouldn't consider this a complete waste of three dollars... After all, it's not in just any book we can see Deadpool fight a zombified Teddy Roosevelt. In the ranking of nerd fantasy battles I think that sits almost even with Boba Fett vs. Nikolai Tesla. But I'm still going to take a pass on issue #3. Instead, I'll get my monthly dose of Danny Way's Deadpool in the upcoming reboot of Thunderbolts, which, uncultured philistine that I am, I'm sure I'm going to love.Oh, and cover artist Geoff Darrow can't draw elephants worth a pile of dog poop. But then again, neither can Tony Moore. Cheers.

This is the first time since the end of issue #1 that I haven't been ashamed to be seen reading Justice League in public. I am hoping, if Geoff Johns must continue to write the book, that it stays at least this good.

The Joker, ultra-insane, inhumanity incarnate, is always evolving. Snyder's writing in the primary Batman title is helping me accept this, as did Morrison's work during his run on the same. However, the changes to Harley Quinn in this book are too random and too difficult for me to endure. Between the unpleasant art, brittle writing and cruel mishandling of a beloved character, this issue falls short on all counts.