The Factual Opinion

My Wife: Nails The Costume Description

When one's husband hands them a comic and says that this comic was one of his favorites from "when he was a kid", one assumes it will be light and, perhaps, even silly. One does not expect it to feature criminals engaged in homoerotically honest discourse about "The Place" where they were both incarcerated.

As you can see, that's what I got. I got Deadshot. And although on the cover, Deadshot looks like a cross between Shazam and C-3PO, the similarity ends in appearance.

Ha - I just now looked at the cover and caught for the first time that there's a box in the lower right hand corner that says "DC Comics Aren't Just For Kids!" I guess that would have been a clue, had I seen it. It's white letters on a white background, with only a shadow black outline, and it's on the bottom corner. If that was 1988's way (Wait. 1988? I just became painfully aware, again, of our age difference. Gulp.) of rating a comic "mature", I think it's sort of failed. 

Anyhow - now that I got all of that off my chest, I have to say I really enjoyed this. The paper is newsprint-y, and I usually find that so irritating that I cannot really focus on the comic. But that was not the case here. I got so sucked in to this dark gritty tale of the ex-con-turned-narc-turned-suicidal-sociopath, that the pages didn't bother me.

It's a well written comic book. Just when you think you know what the story is, that these two guys who knew each other in jail are hooking up to do some crime, it turns out to be about a guy, our own Deadshot, on what is essentially a suicide mission offered to him by the Feds. One that if he survives - and they paint it like it's really iffy - he'll be a free man. And as it goes along, we come to learn that Deadshot just doesn't really give a fuck about anything anymore.

Or does he?

Because, yes, there's a love story, people. His ex-wife is trying to find him. His psychiatrist--who looks a lot like his ex-wife, of course--might have fallen in love with him. Another interesting twist. See, that's what's great about this writing. The story sheds light on the back story and history of the characters, but only in these flashes, and it makes it pretty clear that they're maintaining that delivery because that's what Deadshot is, a guy who lives in shadows and obscurity. There's no need for forced editorial narration to spoonfeed us the story, or the theme. It's all there in the way it's drawn--the deep, heavy shadows are where the action occurs, where all the choices are made and the difficulties are engaged. In the light, people just do things. It's a comic book that assumes its readers are smart. While it seems that a lot of today's comics like to assume that we are idiots who don't get things unless we're hit over the head with them.

Am I wrong? I'm sure there's exceptions. God knows that ya'll read more comic books than I do, you would certainly know better. But it seems to me that the trend has been in overtelling a story, and subtlety has been abandoned.

Speaking of things that have been abandoned: Columbia House ads?! Remember those? Okay, I liked them from a nostalgia point of view, sure. But I also liked them because they were clearly advertisements. They look NOTHING like the other pages. Whereas today, often, an ad page has the same colors, and lines and look of the comic book's page before it, and I've definitely gotten confused once or twice. I mean, not THAT confused. But still, in this case, I knew to just flip all three pages of "12 Hot hits for a cool Penny" - because it looked like an ad, not a comic. I'm almost embarrassed I'm complaining about this. "Even the ads used to be better, because they looked like ads!" Is that what I'm really saying? I guess it is. Have fun with that.

Oh, I should mention that, despite the weird C3P0-like costume, Deadshot is a total BAD ASS! He has no fear; no fear of death, or loss, nothing at all and it makes him one free and scary mother fucker. He'll get the job done, and then some. I have to throw in a shout out for how the artist drew the guys on the plane vibrating with fear after El Jefe says "the cabin is pressurized! One stray shot - one tiny hole in the fuselage -- and we ALL DIE! Yourself included." and Deadshot literally just says, "so?". And then, all hell breaks loose and Deadshot murders absolutely everybody. He doesn't banter with any of them--except for the one guy he used to get here--and he doesn't wait to figure a way out. He just kills all of them, immediately.

Yeah, this was a good comic book. What happened to this character? I've never heard of him, so I'm just assuming he and his comic book have been gone for a long time. But - wow. This was a good story. And it's a four issue mini-series - with SO much in just the first issue. 

Kudos to Ostrander, Yale & McDonnell! They did nice work.

-Nina Stone, 2012

My Wife: Understands The Cosplay Impulse

Before I delve in here, I must come clean about a coupla things. 

First - I don't really know anything about Wonder Woman except for what I remember of the Linda Carter TV show, and what I remember of that show is that I watched it, and it was a television show.

Second - I don't really know my mythology. My mythology is familial, my mythology is World War 2, it's Russia, it's stereotypes. Greek stuff? I don't know Greek stuff.

Sooooo.....there's a lot in this comic that I didn't totally grab ahold of.

That being said? This was a delightful read! While I didn't get all of the reference, I enjoyed spending time with such a cool story. There was so little dialog and narration here and when there was dialog, it wasn't a literal, redudant explanation of what was on the page--which I feel like happens in comics way too often--but instead, the language and writing expanded it in a way the art couldn't, making it even better. (That first time it happens, when the line "...sun of a king" shows up was particularly awesome. There's no way to draw that the guy is toying with the girls he's about to kill by letting them know he isn't human, and there's no way we would hear the distinction in a movie if an actor said the word "sun" instead of "son"--it's only going to happen here, in text. Knowing where that scene goes at the end, that line gets even cooler.) And the final reveal of where that narration comes from--wow. That was really awesome, and so dark. It wasn't what I expected, and I loved it.

And yet? I have to say that my favorite parts of this comic were the one's without any words. For instance, there's a series of frames where a woman clad in a hooded cape of peacock feathers, uses a scythe to kill a horse. Whoa. The colors of that cape, juxtaposed with the barn and the horse. That blade swinging amongst all the softness and silence, sharply singing its song. The frame where you the horse neighing, yet there's no sound effect written - I loved it all. 

Now, how about those two horse-people-mythological-figures bustin' down the door! I stared at that for, like, five minutes. The harnesses, the legs of the horses, the violent charging. There's so much "motion" in one page, it's like--have you ever been around horses? They have the most intense presence, with all that power caught up in their muscles. It's unreal, being close to them, realizing that they've just agreed not to "attack", that domestication is just a promise between us and them, a promise not to run us down. I look at the legs on those centaurs and they've got that kind of power. They're scary.

What about Diana? Wonder Woman herself? I just love all the angles that she's drawn from - her long hair flowing down her back as she looks over her shoulder, opening her serious closet full of serious equipment; the intense look in her eye. I especially love the frame where she's jumping in the air to protect the chick in her underwear, how she blocks and destroys an arrow that was coming straight toward her. YES. See, now I get why you would wanna be Wonder Woman for Halloween. Before, it seemed like a costume. This seems like something more...badass.

The end of this comic, which I alluded to before is depicted in such a cool way that I want to go dig up some mythology books and learn a thing or two. I stared at that last page for what felt like hours. Those girls got burnt to a crisp. I love that the last frame is one of their falling, fiery bones. Just a dark piece of confirmation that yes, those three girls are completely burnt up and dead. Make no mistake, accept no substitute. RIP.

This was a delightful read. I came in not knowing a lot about Wonder Woman or Greek Mythology, and nevertheless, I was able to enjoy this comic. I guess that means that you've got a successful #1 on your hands.

-Nina Stone, 2011

My Wife: Finally Read Something By Warren Ellis

Hey hey hey! This comic was almost right up my alley.

That's gotta count for something!

Secret Avengers #16
Written by Warren Ellis
Art by Jamie McKelvie
Published by Marvel Comics

My take on the rules is this: if you're going to read a comic book, then you're implicitly agreeing to suspend your disbelief and say, "Okay, I'm in. I'm taking the ride." If you're not willing to do that, then come on--the idea of super heroes alone is going to send you right out the front door, right? There's no point at sitting down for poker and then making fun of the concept of playing cards. As readers, we have an unspoken, unwritten contract with the creators/companies/artists that says we are here to play along.

And since that's the agreement, I picked up this issue of Secret Avengers, and I was all in.  

You're in a city built a mile below Cincinnati? Of course you are!

The car you're driving in is somehow atomic? Absolutely! This makes perfect sense, and I have no problem with the concept. 

You engage on a logic and emotional level with a talking blue cat the size of a man? Hey, who wouldn't do the same, if the possibility presented itself.

And then, of course, there's the big conflict of the plot: the Von Doom field that will destroy the planet! (Or at least Cincinnati...)  Oh no! Oh no! Hey, Secret Avengers, do WHATEVER IT TAKES to handle the Von Doom Field!

I (we) never question any of this. We never stop to say, "now wait a second.....wait a second. How do you even turn on an atomic car without it blowing up?" Neither do we try to poke holes in the plausibility of ANY of the stuff about the Beast, who is a big blue talking cat. Why would we?

I don't have any problems with that part of the comic. I'm being a bit sarcastic in the way I present some of its major (and minor) points, but none of it bothered me. No, what bothered me showed up right in the middle of all the funny, pulpy, sorta cool/sorta crazy stuff, right in the middle of the good time I was having  riding the wave of fiction, when the dialogue turns to the subject of time machines.  

Let's all agree on something right now, at least so any potential review reader who happens to be kind of crazy goes away for a bit: in real life, there is no such thing as a time machine. Oh, I know - I wish they did too! Soooo much! I'm the descendent of a bunch of Jews who bailed for America with Nazis in the rearview: you think my people aren't thinking about time machines? We think about time machines all of the fucking time.

But they don't exist. We know they don't. That's part of the reasone they always show up in stories like this. You think would sit around and read about fax machines? There's no mystery to a fax machine. My mother threw a perfectly good fax machine away after the hospital she volunteers at told her they couldn't find a use for it: fax machines are boring as hell.

Now time machines--that's a topic for a fun story involving underground cities, talking blue cat men with senses of humor. Time machines can only amp up a story of this genre.

And yet, when we read about the topic of time machines, The Beast (our talking cat friend) decides to instruct everyone in the fact that they are an incredibly complex and dangerous weapon. Oh yes! How so?   How so, talking cat-beast, are fictional time machines incredibly complex and dangerous weapons? Well, because "a time machine is also a space machine. As we go forward in time, we move forward in space: the Earth moves around the sun..."  he goes on (and on, and on) to say, "So to go back in time on Earth, you have to also be sent to the postion your target was at that time in the past."

Hmmm. This seems very right and true and scientifically sound, I guess. Mmmm-hmmm. YES! Logic!  

Wait a second. LOGIC?

That's the problem.

In the midst of a fun, silly, fictional comic about the Secret Avengers plummeting below the earth's crust, one mile down to a whole other secret city built beneath Cincinnati to drive an atomic car (read: bomb) to deactivate a Von Doom field to keep the world from exploding, we the reader are suddenly burdened by made up logical explanations about made up things, and it's the reading equivalent of somebody taking the book you're enjoying out of your hands and forcing you to listen while they spell out the letters that are found in the words that make up the remainder of its sentences.

It's a buzz kill, and something tells me that the highest possible achievement a comic book like this is going for is to keep that buzz going on until the last page.

Seriously, ya'll, this irritated me. I was in the zone, you understand. My head was in the right place. This slick blond dude in his crazy suit is shooting his disc gun while this goofy British (Tucker said he isn't British, but that's got to be a mistake on his part) blue cat sputters and says "But I have paws" and everybody is so sexy and funny and crazy and it's set under Cincinnati and I even started thinking "Is this why I think Cincinnati is so uncool, because I've never imagined what exists under its surface" AND THEN: you start trying to make sense out of the nonsensical?

It breaks our contract. It destroys our agreement. It makes me think this comic was only sexy and cute and cool on accident, when what it was really supposed to be was about What If This Shit Was Real and that is so--god, that is so not fun at all. That is so much not interesting. I was loving being on board, and I buying whatever story you told. I didn't break my end of the deal. You did. You started poking holes in the plausibility of things, and then, well, I have to. I have to start thinking about time machines, and science, and then "is there enough oxygen underground for a city?" and "How did they build a mile below the earth without disturbing the surface" and "what exactly is a Von Doom field and how will it destroy anything?" Wah - wah. Game over. C'mon, comic book. You're way too short to win me back.

And all of a sudden, what was fun moments before is now totally unfun. I've not only lost interest, I feel complete disdain for the comic and how stupid it suddenly seemed, I feel mean, and I feel bad for feeling mean, and I wonder why the hell I showed up in the first place. And I'm saying that just to illustrate how only moments before I thought it was totally fun and creative, and that something in the writing caused me to turn on this comic book.  

I know it's not fair. Feelings are weird, right?

I'm kinda sad about that. Sad? Yeah, I'm sad. Sad enough that it took me several tries (and days. Weeks?) to write this review. The whole thing was just kind of a bummer. Ah well. Better luck next time, Mrs. Stone. 

-Nina Stone, 2011

My Wife: Just Found Out About The Samurai Rabbit

Usagi Yojimbo #139
By Stan Sakai
Published by Dark Horse Comics 

Well, here's a comic that starts right in the middle of the action! 

4
I was a little confused at first. But I think that would be expected of anyone who is completely new to reading this comic--it is, after all, issue 139. So my hat is off to Stan Sakai for giving the characters very distintive differences so that, by the second page, I could tell who was fighting whom, even if I didn't know who they were yet. On top of that, it's all in black and white - so there was no "the guy in the green against the guy in the red," shortcuts to be had. It was the little things--amongst all that energetic drawing, it was clear that the guy with the super thick black eyebrows was fighting the cat with the black top knot. I know that sounds simplistic and maybe even insulting to the art. I don't mean it that way at all! I think it's a genius move on the part of Sakai to make page 2 of issue 139 easily accessible to a person, such as I, who is picking up this comic for the first time. 

And I can't believe I'm saying this, but it was fun to "watch", or rather, read this fight. The reason I can't believe I'm saying that is because, well, the fighting doesn't usually do it for me. I mean, its fun to watch some criz-azy martial arts stunts in some of those samurai movies....but not that often. In print, it usually doesn't thrill me. But I found myself intently pouring over these panels to see what happened next.

I found myself along for the ride of this jaunty comic without even thinking about it. It was so enjoyable. From the personification of animals to that levitating death symbol hovering above a character's head to let us know that he/she is dead--there's all kinds of stuff in here to enjoy. But it was the second part, the section that takes place in the dining room of a small inn, that I loved the most. 

That second section of the comic features what you might describe as an accidental dinner party--a bunch of strangers, stuck together due to circumstance. Everyone is uber-polite as they introduce themselves except for those who end up being ultra-rude, mostly due to class. Like in this case: "I am travelling to visit an important customer, Lord Yamaoka. Accompanying me is my daughter, Ayano.....and my useless assitant, Hoku." It's the same kind of lowkey humor you see in British costume dramas, accented here by the fact that all the characters are animals.

Even better, there's the narcissism of our "poet" and his horrible, horrible poetry! Many years ago, before Myspace and Facebook (even before Friendster! ask your gramps!) I hung out on Craiglist all day while I was at work. I know that seems odd, but it was a proofreading job. You learn about yourself when you're a proofreader. Like, how do you hang out on Craigslist, for one. Well (and I think I mentioned this in a review a long time ago), the Missed Connections board used to be wildly active and creative, until everybody got blogs. Aside from trying to find and hook-up with people via this message board, many a writer and/or comedian would come and write posts about having a Missed Connection with their pants, or their future, etc. Somewhere along the line, one day (or one week) haikus turned into a thing. Missed Connections in a haiku format. I was all involved in that (again, proofreading!), and I can tell you this because I had a mini-crash-course from a guy in haiku writing. And while I might not be an expert haiku critic, I can, with all accuracy, recall how the haikus in this part of Usagi Yojimbo would have been treated on "the boards". NOT WELL! God, I LOVED this part. It was like getting an inside joke. Kind of. Also: animals!

And spoiler alert: it all reminded me of a murder mystery movie, as it should since this issue is a murder mystery. I didn't expect it to have that whole feeling looking at the cover or laughing along with it, but having finished reading it, I can see how everything was perfectly set up to tell that story. And while this is a comic book with a lot of fighting and (sort of) violence, I found it really cute. I think it's a great comic for kids as well as adults. I was just really pleasantly surprised by the whole thing. How have I not read this before? Will I read it again?

I sure hope so.

-Nina Stone, 2011

My Wife: Goes Beneath The Skin With Nobrow Press

How do you draw bleak? How do you illustrate the haunted, tortured soul residing inside a man? How do you communicate the unbearable?  

Obsolete
By Mikkel Sommer
Published by Nobrow Press 

I don’t know the answers to those questions, but Mikkel Sommer does. He knows them all. In Obsolete, he captures a bleakness so palpable I nearly wanted to put this comic book down and walk away from it to get some distance from the feelings it contained. I didn’t, but not just because I wanted to know “what happens next,” but because I wanted to see how Sommer would capture the emotions of whatever was next. The doing mattered here, but the telling mattered just as much.

This is a comic (it's hard to use that term as it's clearly more tragic then comic, but that's just grade school talking) with very little dialogue, exposition or narration. It tells a story with pictures in a way that only pictures can. It's a story, in a sense, that we’ve all heard and seen (mostly in movies) some variation on. A story of a veteran, haunted by his experience and unable to live a “normal” life after being at war. It illustrates how veterans, the ones who survive, end up becoming victims nevertheless, victims of something that may not be as final as death, but debiliates and annihilates just the same. Caught in that victimhood, they try endlessly to escape in all sorts of ways.

So, if we’ve seen it all before, why read this comic? Because, for one, ts easier to find the time to read this comic then it is to sit down and take in a two hour movie that has to slather more and more onto it just to beef up the runtime. Read it for its form, it's integrity. Read for a lesson in amazing storytelling and keeping it simple. It's pure. Did you, like I, learn in high school that the best way to write a succinct paper was to ask a question in your opening paragraph, and then in the final paragraph write “in  conclusion....” and clearly answer the question you asked and use the middle of the paper to prove your point? It's a stilted, structured system, but it's efficient. That efficency is what I found Sommer doing with this format. His drawings delivered emotion and story, momentum and pace, making the words unnecessary.

The first page shows our protagonist lying in bed - he’s under a blanket, his hairy chest bared, sporting long-ish hair, a beart and sweating profusely. On the last page, our man is lying the exact same way - centered in the page - only this time his eyes are closed rather than open, and he's not sweating anymore. I’m not sure what the question is that the doubling answers. His peace? His rest? I don't want to answer that, or maybe I'm just not sure I can. There's an angry orange, a rusted red palate thoughout this book, one that feels like heat, like a desert or a dry box. By that last page, I felt like I'd been out in the heat too long...tired, dehydrated, loopy in a way that wasn't funny. I can't imagine that wasn't on purpose. I can't imagine I'm not under another's control.

The whole book is lovely to look at. It's a true pleasure to hold in ones hands, one of the most well made comics I've ever touched. There's a weight to the book and the pages are sturdy. I found the whole thing so easy to read and get lost in. It's one of those comic books that makes me feel glad that comic books exist, and grateful that I had the opportunity to read this story.

However painful. However poignant.

-Nina Stone, 2011 

 

My Wife: Is A Big Fan Of Sam Gaskin

A Sam Gaskin comic!!

I got so excited when I saw his name on this comic. So, for the first time in a long time, I - yes, moi - picked out my own comic this week. 

I reviewed a Sam Gaskin comic once before - I feel like it was his first, but I could be wrong about that.  It was certainly my fist Sam Gaskin comic, and I recall that not only did I love it, but it was the comic that made me understand why people like comics as a medium. That's a pretty big deal!

I was delighted to read something else by him, and even more delighted that it turned out to be such a great comic book! I have to say that, yes, somewhere in  some part of my brain I keep the information that the Mayan calendar ends in 2012, and well....we're mid 2011, so I've been able to use that as an excuse for all kinds of horrible choices and laziness. I'm a fan of endings, or at least what the options they've given my life.

Now, I've read and seen books of all kinds deal with any number of creation stories, but I don't think I've ever seen--and certainly never read--any books that gather up all the varying end-of-world stories, be they real, embellished or imagined. (Being a Jew means we get to skip Revelations, but I've that described as being "totally balls out".) Catching up with a prophecy, even ones as clearly fictionalized as these was a lot of fun! I never thought I'd have so much fun reading about the possible ending of the world. 

Gaskin riffs off of a multitude of philosophies and end-of-the-world hypotheses with everyone from Roy Orbision to Nostradamus, from the Hopi Indians to a horny Dracula over to the duo from Rush Hour. (I've left out a bunch of others intentionally because hey, I don't want to totally spoil it for you, right?) It's clever, hilarious, AND he finds a way to tie them all together into one great 2012, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario.

What I find really, really cool about this too, is that with every new story/scenario there was a different look to the art. Sometimes it's minor, but it's always there. Now that's cool right? It gives each story tangent a distinctive look. The story ends up not only being told by the action within the panels, but in how each of the characters and setting get drawn. It's cool to see that tone - and I mean tone in terms of, like, tone of voice - could change by changing the art. (Obviously, it isn't simple to have that variation, but that's part of why I like Sam's comics so much. He makes what must be difficult to come upon seem like an obvious choice that anyone could do, and yet I don't believe for a second that ver many people could have done what he does here.)

At first, I felt like I might not be smart enough to review this. But then I realized that it wasn't intelligence that I was thinking about, but the results of my intelligence--meaning I thought that this was a comic worthy of a great review, a review that would make people want to read it and experience it and laugh at it as much as I did. I wanted to be able to write the sort of thing that could compare and contrast it to other artists and comics in ways that would make people want to read along with me.

I figured out what all those feelings meant, eventually. It just meant that I am a Sam Gaskin fan.

And that I think you should be too.

-Nina Stone, 2011

2012 was written and drawn by Sam Gaskin and published by Secret Acres

My Wife: Gets A Special Feeling In Her Tummy When She Reads Butcher Baker The Righteous Maker

I've never seen or read anything quite like this. I'm actually a little worried that I might not have the ability to put my experience of this comic into words the way I would with any other review. Perhaps a metaphor would work best?

If this issue of Butcher Baker were a ride at a fair, it would be the Gravitron/Starship 4000.  

Why, pray tell? Don't worry! I have a long explanation for my metaphor.

Back in the day in Ocean City, Maryland, the early incarnation of the Gravitron was called, simply enough, the "Rotor". I went on it with my (not actual) Uncle Eric, his son Burke (not my cousin, but like a cousin), and my dad. It was supposed to be a big bonding moment for all of us. (I think? I don't know why it was necessary to include me.) The Rotor was a big, silver cylinder. That's basically it. Can you imagine a gigantic tin can? That's what it was. The four of us climbed up some stairs, handed over our tickets, and then we climbed down the platform and into The Rotor. Uncle Eric was really excited the whole time, and I remember him explaining that it was like magic, that you were going to be spinning, but your body wouldn't totally understand it, and you could stick to the walls. (If that sounds scattered and confused, that's because I remember it being scattered and confused, although that's not pertinent to my description of Butcher Baker, it's just part of the experience, and probably a big part of what made the next part so intense.)

It was great, I guess? As long as you didn't look up. "You really shouldn't have looked up", that was something they told me later. I was young, and I was small, and I just felt really weird from the centrifugal force. As we started spinning, the floor suddenly dropped away, and there was my Uncle, sticking to the wall and looking all sorts of weird. But Burke and I still sort of had our feet on the "ground", or if you want to get technical, where the ground used to be. Perhaps we were too young or small or something but we just rode the floor on down. Burke got into the act of trying to stick to the walls, but he didn't stick, you know? I just hung out, and got terrified. As the ride finished up, the floor came back - but Burke's foot did not. Okay, it wasn't really that dramatic. It was the top of his sneaker, and it was sort of caught in the floor - and my Uncle and Dad were telling the guy that Burke's shoe was stuck. I started shrieking and crying hysterically thinking that Burke was going to lose his foot. I didn't throw up, but I probably would've felt a lot better if I did.

Oy. It was a little traumatic, just retelling this to you.

Anyhow - that was The Rotor. And perhaps, in my metaphor, usual super hero comics are the Rotor. They're a thrill for some. They're kind of wild and safe at the same time. Pushing boundaries, but maybe not appropriate for kids.

I stayed away from any super-spinny rides for quite some time. And then, about 10 years ago, I went to Rehoboth Beach, and they had the Gravitron. It was The Rotor all grown up. 

Things have really changed. It looks like a space ship on the outside. Inside it reminded me of what it felt like to be in a planetarium, although I don't really know why. There was some crazy ass, hip, rocking' music playing. Not dance music, but the kind of stuff that comes in two flavors at once: thumpin' bass and thrashing guitars. You climb into that space ship looking thing and you lie back on these red rectangular matts, and you hang out as the thing spins and you, yes, you, stick to the walls. The music thrashes your brain into mush while the space station pulls your spine out of your ears in a sleazy make-out room. It's messy, it's dirty, it's irresponsible and it reminds me of bad choices and sneering.

And that's what Butcher Baker is - it's bad ass, it's crazy colored, and it's pretty damn sexy. 

Oh yeah: I don't know anything about this comic book. I don't know anything about the characters.

I had a hell of a lot of fun figuring it out. The coloring of the first few pages - hell, the whole thing - is so freakin' cool. That was what sucked me right in at first. That American flag semi - we had a record player painted like that growing up and nothing else, not a red-white-&-blue bikini or an actual flag, has come close to giving me the same thrill upon looking at that red, white & blue record player until now. Until right now, when I saw Butcher Baker's truck in all its colorful glory. LOVE IT.

And by the time the art sucked me in, something else had too: this comic is hilarious. I mean, its irreverent and silly and totally awesome. How much do we love the sort of Smokey & The Bandit-type, CB-talking, Lone Star Star State representin', hillbilly of a cop thang that shows up in the middle of the book? How awesome are these villains? Even the little stuff is great, like the fact that Butcher Baker is not toally invincible - he gets a bit of an ass whoppin', right? And he's still a bad ass! I mean, with a name like Butcher? You'd have to be. HAVE to. You've gotta live up to a name like that. You have to earn the right to be called that every single day you're alive.

Anyhow....what can I say. They--comics, I mean--should be this much fun all of the time. They should always look cool, they should always have some edge to them, something that reminds me that there's people making them that care about them more than they care about anything else in the world. 

There's just not enough time for anything less.

-Nina Stone, 2011

My Wife: Came Not To Bury Spider-Man, But To Coo At Him

Ultimate Spider-Man #160
Written by Brian Michael Bendis
Art by Mark Bagley
Published by Marvel Comics 

This one is difficult to review. I shouldn't even pretend that I'm "reviewing" it. To do this issue any justice, I think it would have to be done by someone who has read the whole series leading up to this part. Or most of it, at least. I think I've read a total of three, maybe 5?, Ultimate Spider-man issues since I've been reading comics (which is a whopping 5 years or so. Where did the time go?!). There's no way that's enough to grasp everything this particular chapter is trying to accomplish, much less tell you whether it succeeds or fails. All I can do is relate my experience with this issue, which even I can grasp is an important one. (It does, after all, say "Death of Spider-Man" on the cover.)

I always liked Ultimate Spider-Man when I read it. If I'm recalling correctly, its been relatively cheerful and light...and by light, I mean it was always angsty in a really breathy teenage way. Peter Parker in high school by day and scaling walls as Spider-man at night. From what I remember of those past issues, it always seemed like they were telling the stories in between big events, not that they ever really were big events. And now, here I am reading "Death of Spider-Man". That's pretty intense for an Ultimate Spider-Man title, right? And my first impulse--the one that led to all that explanation and equivocation above--is that I feel like I've sat down and caught the last two minutes of a movie. Like, soooo much is already in the actual midst of happening, and I feel like the girl who comes into the room to see her family engrossed in a show. Do I want to keep saying, "Who's that? Why's he so upset? When did Peter kill everyone the Goblin man loved?" I've got too many unanswered questions to know what's really going on. Do I want to be that girl? The girl who interrupts the current scene to ask about all the stuff I missed? Do I even care?

I didn't ask until later, actually. While I was in the middle of the thing, the thing was totally engaging. Ultimate Spider-Man number one hundred and sixty? It's a page turner, you can quote me on that.

You need more?

Okay, I also loved how Peter/Spidey's humor is still in tact as he's on the brink of death. What's still intact is all of his love. Aaaaaawwwwww, yeah. I love the love. I love MJ sneaking out in the middle of the night against her mom's orders, all so that she can steal a truck and run over the Green Goblin. That was great! I love how much Peter loves his Aunt, how he just wants to save her, no matter what the cost. He loves her, she loves him, he also loves MJ, the blond girl loves dressing like it's still 1998, and.....oh, I guess Ultimate Spider-Man has always been all about the love, huh? There's so many worse things to be about. So many things that aren't as sweet, so many things that aren't as kind.

So, of course, if you don't mind me spoiling the ending that the cover describes, this is also very, very sad. But I haven't been keeping up, you know? Those last pages--where Peter dies in his Aunt's arms--it seemed so unreal to me. And it is unreal, right? I mean, its comic books! Which means that in the next issue, he might suddenly not be dead. I mean, anything happens in comic books. I read one last week where Aquaman killed Rome. They can't have comic books where Aquaman kills Rome and sweet boys like Peter Parker die in Queens. (Trust me, I've been to Queens. God doesn't let people die in Queens. Queens is like an old Sega Genesis games: it just doesn't count.)

I think I'd like to see what happens next in this comic book. I asked if there were more after this one, and I guess there's going to be one where all the women in this comic hold hands in the dark? That was the ad I saw, at least. That seems kind of slow for a comic book though, so maybe there's a bank robbery or something.

-Nina Stone, 2011