PAPER ROCKETSHIPS, INK-DARK MOONS: Comics reviews.

In which we see how little comic books have in common with one another! Medium is not genre. But if you’re reading this post, you probably already know that.

Junji Ito, Uzumaki vols. 2 and 3. Here’s my rave review of Uzumaki vol. 1, the killer-spiral comic. Here’s Bruce Baugh’s take on the series. I’m less positive about the later two volumes than he is; I didn’t think the story wrapped up well. The ending seemed to me to go on too long and reach too hard for a “cosmic” feel. Also, the creepiest images–the ones that linger like the impress of clammy fingers on the back of your neck–are in the first volume.

However, 2 and 3 do offer some effective chills (what happens to the man-snails really got to me), and these comics are cheap enough that if you liked vol. 1 you should check ’em out. Volume 1 really is fantastic; brrrrr.

Alan Moore and Oscar Zarate, A Small Killing. A sad, creepy, utterly distinctive book. I initially checked this one out because of the advertising theme: An ad designer en route to Moscow to sell cola shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union stops off in his home country, England, and becomes convinced that a small boy is stalking him and intends to kill him. The story is part horror/thriller (of the “quiet chills” genre), part broken homecoming, part commentary on advertising, identity, and wilfully abandoning one’s conscience.

The story is really powerful, and Moore’s writing is evocative without going into that overblown PoetrySpeak that so many people think conveys pathos. The ending does suffer from the same problem on a personal, emotional level that V for Vendetta suffered from on a political or philosophical level. I don’t think Moore convinces us of his more hopeful overtones; the ambiguities and darker layers are much more believable. He sells yesterday better than tomorrow.

But the art. Clownish colors, carnival-looking people (like the carnival from Something Wicked This Way Comes…), artificial without being difficult to follow. The pictures heightened the unhappy mystery of the writing, while also adding an element of humor that the book needed. Just really fine stuff.

You should read this.

Mark Millar, various artists, and the Marvel Hive Mind, Ultimate X-Men vols. 1, 2, 4, 5, and 6. There’s so much wrong with these comics. Huge stupid plot holes… interchangeable female characters (quick, without referring to their powers, love interests, or backstory–just personality–tell me what differentiates Jean and Storm)… a world that falls apart in your hands if you examine it too closely.

But I was reading these during downtime at the preg ctr when the other counselor asked me what I was reading: “You’re grinning from ear to ear!”

Ult. X-Men is so–much–fun. Dumb, dumb fun. I ordinarily am not a big fan of comics that are mostly stuff exploding, but for whatever reason this one really kills me. I don’t care that it often stops making sense. I just like the pedal-to-the-metal, 90 mph in a school zone feel. I like the high stakes (um, OK, as high as you’re liable to get in an X-book anyway) and the interchangeable wisecracking comic relief. The series starts with a bang–huge not-quite-as-stupid-looking-as-usual Sentinels tracking down and killing mutants everywhere–and basically keeps yelling the whole way through. This is the McDonalds french fries of comics… and I love McDonalds french fries.

I did notice one vaguely substantive thing, in between all the flashbangery: This title doesn’t feel nearly as much like a series about leadership as, e.g., New X-Men. I think that’s because the power and authority imbalances between Xavier and his students are too great–we all know who the leader is, so there’s no real point in exploring the issue. Fortunately, the book does a good job of hitting the “are the X-Men traitors to their kind?” theme, and I am even more obsessed with treason and betrayal than I am with leadership, so I’m satisfied.

Mmmm, french fries.