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Books (Graphic)

Witch for Hire by Ted Naifeh
Amulet Books, due August 2021

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9781419748103_s3 Zombos Says: good story and artwork. 

Writer and artist Ted Naifeh fashions a cursed creature in the form of a Momo (a nasty meme born from Midori Hayashi's enormous-eyes creature image), which leads to mischief for Faye Faulkner and her new and old friends. Faye is a young witch, more or less, and insists on wearing a conical crown and wide-brimmed hat that tethers her, along with a defiant attitude, to the loser's table in the school cafeteria. Cody reluctantly finds her way to that table after her sister rebuff's her. 

Aside from Faye, who holds the warmest seat at that table, there's Julio the dramatic, Jiyoung looking forward to a more accessible learning environment, and Raffi who will eventually own a mansion and a yacht. Even though Cody thinks Faye needs to lose the witch hat to become more acceptable, Cody eventually realizes she has her own issues to deal with; like her mom who was in a bad auto accident; her dad, who's very into himself and his shady business; and her sister, Bryce, who hides a secret better than her nasty disposition.

In flashbacks we learn why Faye acts the way she does. Cody thinks she should help others because of her magical gifts, but Faye disagrees with good reason. A threat to their safety, and that of their friends, moves the disagreement to more perilous footing, and Faye, like many of us have to do at some point in their lives, needs to make a life-changing–or maybe it's a life-affirming–decision. If she can live that long.

Shy_shelbi, an influencer with 2.3 million followers and a personality straight out of the me-me-me 1970s and vanities of the 1980s, just adores bringing all those teen secrets and issues to everyone's tables for a terminal solution. She practically feeds off the emotional turmoil. Before Faye can help anyone she needs to help herself, and Cody provides the catalyst for her to do so. Shy-shelbi has other ideas, though. As Faye struggles with her past and future, Shy-shelbi, who really isn't that shy, keeps Faye's present a stiff challenge.

Naifeh's YA graphic novel takes a page from Midori's creepy image of the Momo, and the Momo's Internet meme-life (almost like another Slenderman) to make the cursed creature, that exists between real and the realm of ideas, a looming threat to everyone. But especially Faye, because she knows what's happening. His storyline then takes more pages from the sturm and drang that anyone who has attended school has felt at one time or another, more so now with social media breathing heaven and hell down everyone's necks, whether you sat at the losers' table or not. Through it all, the bond between Cody and Faye strengthens, gets frayed, and strengthens some more. 

Faye must also come to terms with her past, her present, and her future to keep her and that friendship going. One thing: does anyone say Holy Moly! these days? You would think a chemistry teacher could come up with something stronger, especially after his classroom demonstration pops a bit too much. Maybe only in YA graphic novels, then? I could think of more graphic words if shy_shelbi showed up at my table, that's for sure.

Note: As always, I receive screener links, book copies, and other stuff for review. But I still review 'em as I see 'em. 

Book Review: At Death’s Door
A Picture Book for Grown-Ups

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At death's Door book
Zombos Says: Very Good

A sour and sweet treat to salivate over, Ben Joel Price's At Death's Door, A Picture Book for Grown-Ups, is wicked fun. Twelve little mischievous knockers, out for a Halloween stroll, knocking on every door, they're in for a roll.

And a nasty roll it is, too, trying to get past those ominous looking doors with their multiple dire warnings and booby traps, and into the treats, when so many nasty tricks abound to block the way. Fans of Lenore, the Cute Little Dead Girl and Charles Addams's cartoons will find At Death's Door irresistible.

Poor little oculus, Orville Snide, cries his eye out while Heskith Dregs throws eggs only to find the yolk's on him. Unfortunately.There is one trick or treater who makes out like a bandit, though, filling his swag bag to the brim, but you'll need to get to the end of it all to find out who done it.

Darkly adorable illustrations make this rhyme and mayhem story suitable for grown-up kids and kid-like grown-ups, all done with stark black, shady gray, and pumpkin orange. At 7 by 5 inches, this tidy little tome makes a perfect gift for your home Halloween decor. Better yet, some lucky fiend you know would clamor for this sinister puckish prose, when secreted in a long red stocking hung by the chimney with care or under a mound of candy at the bottom of a bottomless Halloween treat bag.

At deaths door page

 

A digital copy was provided for this review.

Graphic Book Review: Criminal Macabre
The Eyes of Frankenstein

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The eyes of frankensteinZombos Says: Very Good

Too many cigarettes, an itchy trigger finger, ghoul’s blood, and a vexing inability to get a day off, ever, makes Cal McDonald more surly than usual. Shooting up Mo’Locks gift on wheels wasn’t too smart, either. But let’s face it, it’s McDonald’s too-nervous energy and paranoia that keeps us coming back for more dead and deader occult shenanigans. And Steve Niles and Christopher Mitten in The Eyes of Frankenstein do their best to shake them up for McDonald.

In-between chain smoking–how can he afford all those packs of cigarettes?–McDonald’s called into the middle of something bad happening to the ghouls. They’re dying, for real this time. Tag teaming his attention is Adam, also known as the Frankenstein Monster to those who didn’t read the book but did catch the movies. Adam’s going blind. Being a heavy reader, that makes him a very angry and destructive monster.

McDonald’s quick fix for Adam is a pair of store-bought eye-glasses. With them, Adam can count the number of aspirin McDonald hasn’t chewed on yet. But the bigger solution, the one that will tie Adam’s failing eyes and the ghouls sudden dying together, requires a lot more effort, and bullets, than McDonald’s in the mood for. But he persists in spite of vomiting up the aspirin and alcohol that’s not working much for his headaches and annoying tingly sensations. The patented quips and mannerisms are all here as McDonald sucks it up and keeps on going, and the dry wit of Mo’Loch playing against them is drier than ever.

Not so cut and dried is Jason Hemlock’s involvement. Hemlock’s the supernatural expert McDonald couldn’t care less for, although he’s reluctantly teaming up with him for Adam’s sake. Which agenda Hemlock eventually puts into play is the question, and McDonald will need to not only find an answer, but also keep breathing at the same time.

Mitten’s art vexes me and entertains me. He’s quirky, minimalist in panel details and depth, but he gets away with it by keeping the emotion flowing between ghouls, monsters, and one very sore detective with a bad smoking habit. Niles is a minimalist, too, but he keeps the dialog to the point and McDonald able to change direction on a dime once he realizes he’s heading the wrong way. If Niles could blast past the 4-issue mark for his usual story arcs, maybe McDonald could work in some much needed vacation as the terrors mount up waiting for him. Or maybe not, given his run of luck. He does have a bad habit of stepping in it both shoes deep even when standing still. Now that takes a certain knack, and Niles and Mitten capture it for us here.

Graphic Book Review: The Wraith

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The-wraithZombos Says: Excellent

It's ironic that the real monsters of our world often defy explanation, yet in fiction we often demand and often relish knowing their histories. Those histories are always filled with poignant experiences, traumatic events, and possibilities never achieved. Told well, you find yourself fearing and hating the monster while feeling sorry for it. Or him.  

In Joe Hill's The Wraith, the history of Charlie Manx and the origin of his evil is told well, serving as the prequel to his novel NOS4A2. The 1938 Rolls-Royce Wraith is here, so is Christmasland and the "private roads of thought, where emotions are weather, blowing across the landscapes of your imagination." Manx calls these landscapes inscapes, and with a scared child listening in the backseat of his Wraith, he tells her all the sordid events of his life, beginning with his father who died in the arms of a fat lady named Sally Grapefruits.

Manx's mother blames him for everything bad in her life, of course, calling him names, treating him poorly. He never had a Christmas where Santa brought him a present so he bought a sled for himself called the fantom. Racing it down the slopes he notices the landscape changes and another world pushes itself through. A horrible event makes that world very angry and murderous, leaving 13-year old Manx free of his former, unsavory, surroundings.

Life perks up for him, briefly. He falls in love and gets married. He is wealthy. He is finally happy. He loses it all. His wife and children are left with nothing. Their carefree happiness turns to drudgery. His wife turns into his mother, calling him names, blaming him for, well, it doesn't matter really, since he's heard it all before.

What little cash he's managed to save is given to a traveling salesman selling dreams; and a place called Christmasland. He buys into the dream hook, line, and sinker. He even buys the Rolls-Royce Wraith to visit the amusement park for opening day. The Wraith comes cheaply, its former owner committed suicide in it, even if it was lightly used. A road trip to Christmasland with his kids and wife in the back seat turns ugly. The landscape he's known before opens up around him, swallowing them whole. The children lose their baby teeth.

But that was in the past. The story picks up again in 1989. Escaped convicts put in a call to Manx, now the go-to guy for making people disappear. He takes them to Christmasland to play with the kids, who welcome them, standing in front of a foreboding Christmas tree hung with ghoulish ornaments. And the kids are holding sharp, dangerous things, smiling in anticipation. I'll mention a balloon filled with delirium 101 is critical to survival for some, and you may catch a glimpse of the Bumble in all the mayhem, and leave it at that. Except for the payback, of course, there's always payback.

Joe Hill does more with his words than most writers of horror fiction today, which is why he can sell you, like Charlie Manx was sold, such a tall story that's part nightmare, part dreamscape, and mostly horrifying. His characters have befores, middles, and endings, and those endings can be very unpleasant, but their histories are ones you will relish. There may be a better artist to capture the glory and gory of Christmasland than Charles Wilson, but no one else comes to mind. Especially when he's "painted pretty" by Jay Fotos. The narrative and the art capture the murderous delights of Christmasland very well, while leaving enough room for emotions stretching beyond the necessary artifices of the story.

What we don't learn is what Christmas did to Joe Hill to make him want to turn its holiday of cheer into a holiday of drear.

Graphic Book Review: Dead Boy Detectives
Volume 1: Schoolboy Terrors

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Dead boy detectives 1Zombos Says: Very Good

A smidgen of whimsy, a modicum of mystical, and a dollop of the cheeky-odd surround Dead Boy Detectives Edwin and Charles as they float–or sqwoosh when they're in a rush, although doing so makes Charles sick–through their meager caseload of mysteries to solve. You may feel a little light-headed meeting this pale duo cold, without a little warming up first by reading their previous adventures, starting with The Sandman #25, but stick to it; the stories are spread along like a taste of marmalade's bitter and sweet on burnt toast. You may find you like it and want more. Or not.

 

"You do not really mean to say that, do you?" asked Zombos, leaning over my shoulder, studiously reading as I typed.

"Yes, I do, and why not? And stop snooping and come over so I can see you without getting a crick in my neck."

I pushed my chair out a little, waiting for the debate to commence. The day was warmer than I liked, a higher humidity than I cared for, and so, yes, comenzara el debate; I was ready for him and any zingers he could lob my way.

"Oh, well then, carry on," he said, and walked away. I was dumbfounded. I wasn't ready for that at all. I sipped at my iced mocha latte, loudly, in frustration. Now where was I? Oh, yes…I was going to give some background information on Edwin and Charles to help warm you up before you plunge into reading Dead Boy Detectives Volume 1: Schoolboy Terrors.

 

Edwin Paine died by murder in 1916 at his boarding school, after insufferable fagging by the senior boys, a lousy lot of ruffians who reveled in doling out humiliation. Adding insult to his death, he found himself not only dead as a doorknob but sent off to meander around hell for years, stalked by a nameless terror. Neil Gaiman, Dead Boy Detectives' instigating author, is like that sometimes. Must be a British thing. Charles  Rowland died by murder in 1990, same boarding school, Saint Hilarion's School of Impending Doom and Fagging Studies (okay, yes, I made up that last part), although Edwin did try to help Charles avoid the terminus. Death happened along to collect the two, but both boys decided to hang around awhile and go into business doing detective work for fellow spirits and the living. Boning up on their intended trade by watching old detective movies, and eventually acquiring their private detectives certificate from the Apex Novelty College, they split their time between hanging out in their abandoned treehouse and conducting investigations.

In Volume 1, Schoolboy Terrors, the boys first sqwoosh (or squoosh; the spelling depends on which period of comics you're reading) to the Isle of Dogs to find Twinkle the ghostly cat, but a psychopathic schoolmaster who keeps class in session, forever, runs the boys ragged as they try to escape and end the semester for good. Worse things are waiting for them, with one of those being a return to St. Hilarion's, which has gone completely to hell in their absence (or more completely than originally, that is). This time, however, they're accompanied by a breathing, spirited girl named Crystal Palace, who is determined to unravel the mystery of their deaths while trying to avoid her own.

Crystal's parents are two world-trotting performance artists who love their daughter, kind of, and spend much time away from her, mostly, to pursue their artistic endeavors. Her mom even tattooed her at birth in a fit of creative license. It washed off, so not much harm done, but the paparazzi ate it up and it was a publicity success. Their latest performance sends Crystal to the hospital, where her near-death experience hooks her up with the boys. Soon she's off to St.Hilarion's to tangle with the mysteries surrounding the boys' quietuses, play Yonda with a newfound friend, and survive a power struggle between demons. The spirits of the homicidal seniors who made Edwin's life short and unpleasant pepper the heated action with cutlery and evil determination. The finale involves fire, a mirror, philosophizing cats you really shouldn't follow, a touchingly sad predicament that began in 1888 that leads to an uncomfortable and embarrassing position to be stuck in, and many big words Edwin would use more often if Charles could only understand them.

Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham imbue all these weird situations and magical characters with a young-adult-refusing-to-grow-up attitude, and it's a wonder in itself to watch how different finishers (or inkers to the less comic-geeky among you) bring Buckingham's pencils and layouts to life. Victor Santos is all crisp and tart with his ink pen, while Gary Erskine goes lighter with his lines, allowing colors to lighten scenes. Erskine in tandem with Andrew Pepoy maintains the lightness, but with more accentuation in shadowing, making faces especially reflective of their characters' evil or good intentions. And Russ Braun has that DC Comics house style that harkens back to Silver Age, but with a contemporary overtone. 

Any way you slice it, though, Dead Boy Detectives Volume 1: Schoolboy Terrors is a filling treat to savor.

A courtesy copy for review was provided by DC Comics. 

Graphic Book Review: Afterlife With Archie
Book One: Escape from Riverdale

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Afterlife with archie book one

Zombos Says: Very Good

An accident forces Jughead to resort to witchcraftery, which leads to another bad course of action with dire consequences, which leads to an even worse outcome shaping up to make Riverdale High’s Halloween dance really scary with hot-blooded, dead-cold, action the teenagers didn’t plan on. This is a more mature Archie’s Weird Mysteries for zombie fans. Finally, the undying feud between Betty and Veronica over Archiekins’ affection has been given a new direction: concern over who will stay alive with Archie as he takes charge of their safety.

Franceso Francavilla captures the simple, energetic humor of the before Afterlife with Archie comics, sedates it with dark scenes and mature renderings of the gang, and let’s the Autumn colors palette do its work across the panels. The intense colors saturate scenes with dramatic flair, fortifying the less detailed features of Francavilla’s pencils. Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa provides enough setup and chomping in Book One: Escape from Riverdale to make it a good sell for reading the upcoming Book Two.

One bite leads to another, in de rigueur zombie apocalypse fashion, and not even Pop Tate’s Diner is safe from the growing horde of deadbeats looking for more than a burger and a malt shake. Situating Riverdale back in its original locale of Massachusetts, a good-intentioned spell goes awry, sparking the supernaturally-charged undead. Is it any surprise, then, that come this October, even Sabrina will be returning to the Archie Comics fold with her own series. One, I’m sure, will be as dark and brooding and dire.

Retreating to the safety of Veronica’s stately mansion, her dad takes charge. Zombie fans know what happens when people take charge in zombie movies; a change of plans is soon needed and Archie rises to the occasion. Aguirre-Sacasa adds flashbacks at important moments of conflict: Archie seeing his dog Vegas for the first time contrasted against the last time he sees Vegas; Smithers the butler blended into the background all his life contrasted against Smithers taking the foreground. Each flashback instills maturity and emotion into characters we never expected to see these qualities in. Then, of course, the contagion continues spreading, people get eaten (although the artwork isn’t as gory as that sounds), plans are made and hastily remade, and even Reggie Mantle becomes more than Archie’s rival for Veronica’s affections. Other bumpy relationships do their best to continue through the mayhem, and that’s one constant in every zombie scenario: while death clings close at every turn, teens will still be teens and argue or take a refreshing dip in the pool while the hungry undead gather all around.

It’s a tough job to take the Archie Andrews universe to a more horrific place given how light-hearted the original series is, but I’m sensing an iZombie vibe here that works well for us even if it may be hell on Archie and his pals.

Graphic Book Review: Dark Shadows Year One

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Zombos Says: Good

Adapting Dan Curtis’s television series Dark Shadows to the comic book format has been done before.  There was also a nationally syndicated newspaper strip that ran in the early 1970s, but it ended when the show was canceled. Old vampires are especially hard to kill, though, and perhaps that is why Barnabus Collins, who became one in 1795, keeps coming back.

The good thing about Marc Andreyco and Guiu Vilanova’s Dark Shadows: Year One is how it stays true to the original storyline and fated characters (episodes 365 to 461 of the televised series). The bad thing is how it doesn’t add any new life to the gothic storyline or, at least, fully embrace its melodramatic nuances of soap opera horror through buildup and suspense.

Given today’s comic book page-squeezing and insistence on 4 and 6 issue story arcs, Dark Shadows: Year One, flies by faster than a bat, leaving die-hard fans to reminisce and add their emotional pacing and buildup for each hurried-through event in this 6 issue compilation, thereby appropriately smoothing out the well-remembered drama for them. Newcomers to Dark Shadows may not be so obliging. They will only know the story as written and drawn, and the impact this venerable dark and brooding soap opera tragedy might have been able to deliver is lessened considerably. Unless, and heaven forbid, they’ve just come from a screening of Tim Burton’s flaky pastry of tragic but cheeky incoherence. All bets are off if that’s the case.

Where’s the deeper rub as jilted Angelique foils the dreams of Barnabus Collins and dooms him and his family? Angelique Bouchard Collins: witch; what a rich backstory to be told, yet we still wait to read it and see it. Easily one full issue there, in her growth into witchdom, or even an entire four parter in itself.

Graphic Book Review:
Hinterkind: The Waking World

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Zombos Says: Good

I’m not sure what the big ball in the center of Hinterkind: The Waking World‘s cover is, but I assume it’s the globe. As in Mother Earth, which, once again, is in seasonal post-apocalypse after the “blight” has eliminated much of the human population. The survivors survive, huddled together in small communities situated in various cities. One by one, those communities are becoming unreachable over ham radio, so an adventurous doctor decides to find out why. His adventurous, and suitably rebellious, daughter decides to go after him. What starts going after them is what Ian Edginton and Franceso Trifogli’s young adult comic series is all about.

The novel twist here, and it’s a good one, is the eclipse of humankind leading to the repatriation of the hinterkind: elves, ghouls, bumps in the night, and all those hairies and toadies looking for human treats to eat. Former citizens of the globe, they were ousted by mankind. And boy are they mad about that.

If only Trifogli can be more energetic with his imagination depicting the hinterkind, and if only Edginton could shake up the usual genre predispositions more, like naming his valiant young female lead anything other than Prosper Monday, this series would be better than good.

This first six-issues compilation introduces Prosper, her male friend since childhood, Angus–he’s got quite a tale to tell, himself–and the growing population of Sidhe (that’s elves to you and me) and not so Sidhe (think Lord of the Rings and you’ll get the idea). Prosper is idealistic, selfless, brave, and future-thinking. She also wields a mean bow and arrow. All of these are important qualities for all young adult women characters. Her male friend, Angus (okay, sure, it’s Celtic in origin, but who names their kid Angus?), is trepidatious, more play-it-safe, yet still brave enough to accompany her, making him the ideal counterpart for every young adult woman character like her. Which would be all of them.

They set out, encounter a multi-armed troll on the bridge (Brooklyn or Manhattan Bridge, I’m not sure) and land into much hot water with the bad company they keep. That bad company may actually turn out to be not so bad, so room for relationship-growth and self-worth awareness appears to be on the table for later issues. On the other hand, some of that bad company involves a Frankensteinian horror undertaken by survivors deep in a military bunker, so Prosper and her compatriots may not last that long for us to see any growth. Of course there’s the bad-ass female bounty hunter stalking them: she sports a mohawk, has purple wings, and carries a big gun. She’s a combination of Mad Max and dominatrix fashion. Hopefully she’ll prove worthy of more than her stereotype in later issues. But for now she’s ideally suited to the task at hand: wreaking sinister mayhem.

The broader story potentially bridging this dissolution of humanity and the re-population of the hinterkind is carried by a future-thinking queen, her past-viewing and spiteful sister (who is oddly drawn with short, bristly hair that’s distracting to look at), and a lot of hungry hinterkind in the middle of their power-plays. There’s enough told in the first six issues, and enough purpose and direction shown as to what future events may transpire to interest further reading.

And hopefully, better coloration across the panels to set the mood. One gimmick I recommend dropping or rethinking its use is the narrative excerpts from the “First Book of Monday.” It displaces the reader from the present with its repetitive, pontificating soliloquoy, and kills any tension: First Book of Monday equates to Prosper’s diary? Yes! Great! So no matter what happens, she lives past the present calamities. Not so great to know that. I’d like a little more mystery than that in my young adult fiction. You know, we call it suspense.

Graphic Book Review: Rat Queens Volume One
Sass and Sorcery

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Rat-queens-graphicZombos Says: Good

Normally I wouldn't be caught dead reading a title like Rat Queens (well, maybe if you forcefully stuffed the issues, or the graphic book, into my lifeless hands). It has that fanboy cheek and geek glossing of the usual curse words, the go to, get loose, comic-book-inhabiting female characters, and the appropriately imaginative cosplay trappings hinting at time-periods and imagined realms, where everyone is young and fun-loving, and older people stay indoors or live in some other place similar to Florida. A running joke about Old Lady Bernadette pokes fun at this old age (or is it age-old?) conundrum of comic book lit.

Kurtis J. Wiebe and Roc Upchurch even provide the standard relationships-among-friends squabbles, engaged through ample potty mouth cutesy dialog and enough mentions of donkey d*ck (and reasonable facsimiles) to elicit snickers. They even kick it into high gear with a melange of playful fantasy scenes involving swing the sword and cast the sorcery dramatics executed in a giddy tone on par with television shows like Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Farscape, and Xena: Warrior Princess.

One thing puzzles me: who the hell in real life is named Roc Upchurch?

Another thing that puzzles me is how I've been caught alive reading Rat Queens Volume One: Sass and Sorcery, given everything I just explained. Perhaps it's because there's also crafty mirth, adorable characters, and there's a plotted storyline that doesn't plop when it needs to pop with its dramatics and its angst. There's also less dubious cleavage and ass-tight clothing going on, so kudos to Kurt and Roc for daring to nudge back on the status quo.

Art and written characterizations work so well here it's surprising how much good story and vibe they can muster while still pandering to the less-discerning fanboy contingent. It takes skill to dip pop culture hip into a fantasy spun around a Lord of the Rings worldview and then ignore its etiquette and liven up everything with cool chics and multi use "d*ck"-isms.

The four cool Rat Queens are Betty, a hot little Smidgen who likes hard liquor and magic mushrooms; Dee, whose parents worship a giant flying squid; Hannah, who conjures up expletives and spells in equal measure; and Violet, who shaves her beard because that's the trend and wields a designer sword three sizes too big. They fight villains, themselves, assassins, themselves again, and giant trolls. They also get beat up a lot, look worse for it, then heal fast thanks to good magic and hard living.

Their hangout locale of choice is the town of Palisade, whose peace and quiet is often ruined by their carousing in the wee hours of morning and night (okay, basically all day). Or, as one character tells it, "what do you expect when a bunch of young people get rich quick and there's nothing to do but drink." There goes that young thing again.

The Rat Queens, along with four other misbehaving groups with names like Peaches, Four Daves, Brother Ponies, and Obsidian Darkness, are released from the town dungeon by Mayor Kane when they agree to go on quests to keep them out of trouble. One particularly dirty quest is to "clean the sh*tters at the Winding Pass Barracks." The Rat Queens dodge that one and get the goblin-clearing quest instead. Now there's a quest you won't see players lining up for in World of Warcraft.

The quests turn out to be a sham and appendages start bleeding and cleaving when assassins hunt down the groups. Betty, Dee, Hannah, and Violet work on fending off sudden death while investigating. Their investigations include downing a few at the local tavern and sizing up potential culprits like "that b*tch Bernadette." A party, candy apple martinis, and sex with a guy that has birds chirping in his beard round out the storyline pretty well.

Beards, magic mushrooms, and young people; and trolls and villains. What's not to like?

Graphic Book Review:
John Constantine, Hellblazer
The Family Man

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Constantine-Family-ManZombos Says: Very Good

There's a stale air constantly surrounding John Constantine. Maybe it's the smell of cheap cologne (or maybe the need for it) and cheaper cigarettes, or maybe it's the odor of death and the supernatural places he's usually mired in. Then again, it could be all those weird word Britishisms he utters such as "sufti" (it means to take a quick look around), combined with his ruffled,  just rolled out of bed look. With so many writers and artists handling and mishandling him, you'd expect he'd appear a little rough around the edges and surly in his manner at any given moment. Which suits him and us just fine. It helps cover the fact that, for an occult detective, he sure hates to resort to occult things to work out his problems.

Keep in mind this is the older Constantine, pre-52; the guy in the desperately-in-need-of-a-cleaning tan trench coat. The foul-mouthed guy who smoked too much, complained too much, and looked like sh*t too much because he constantly stepped into it–sometimes on purpose, most times not. He's also the Constantine who moved obliquely through his issues with sarcasm and dry wit and a strong sense of doing what's right first off, or making things right after the fact; although it may take him a little time to get it done. In-between those times the stories continued across issues, like loose threads waiting to pulled, then balled up together with one final effort. Only it never seems to end for Constantine does it?

This collection of issues 23, 24, and 28 through 33 spins his world directly, and adjacent to, the Family Man, a serial killing non-occult monster whose backstory crops up as explanation for his insanity, but we really don't care because he's so vile in what he's doing. Constantine unexpectedly crosses paths with him, doesn't realize it, and before he's onto the trail again he's already botched it badly, giving the killer his next full-course blood-letting.

Issue 23 sets up the Family Man's entry, issue 24 reveals how old friends can become new strangers, and the hunt fully begins in issue 28. Issue 23 is one of the oddest ones in the Constant One's aging run (definitely an issue Neil Gaiman would love). It bumps a real character of Constantine's acquaintance, who he's paying a casual visit to, with fictional characters unhappy with how much of a fictional character's traits said acquaintance has appropriated. Winnie the Pooh and his literary compatriots take action. Another pack of cigarettes is desperately needed to handle the situation, and maybe a few drinks wouldn't hurt, but Jamie Delano's dialog and situations get wilder and wilder. Ron Tiner's heavy lines and grainy scenes are hard on the eyes, but fit Constantine's world so darn well. Fu Manchu (looking very much like Christopher Lee) makes a cameo, as does Sherlock Holmes, Peter Pan, and a volume's worth of minor characters in the span of 24 pages, with nary a dull panel throughout.

Tiner receives an assist from Kevin Walker in the middle issues, but his pencils look better without the help, and Steve Pugh, Dean Motter, and Sean Phillips take over the art eventually. The differences are noticeable, but not distracting. Dick Foreman guest writes New Tricks for issue 32, wherein a dog and his master reverse roles in a Junk Yard, leaving a few characters in pieces. Bloody ones. I can't tell if it's Pugh's testy habit or the colorist, Ziuko's, failing, but white highlights and white halos around foreground elements kick this dog's story's panels here and there as only 1990s artsy indiscretions could. The play on words here involving "bulldog" and "Drummond," is a saving grace, however.

By issue 30 Constantine's Family Man dilemma is resolved, but issue 31 relates an after effect of one death that needs to be put to rest, and issue 33 is a tough one to figure out for both Constantine and us. It plays like a fill-in between more important issues, but you never can tell with Hellblazer's John Constantine.

And that's a good thing.

Graphic Book Review:
Ghosted Volume 1: Haunted Heist

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Ghosted-volume-1Zombos Says: Very Good

A haunted mansion, a team of supernatural investigators, and an odd request join together in Ghosted: Haunted Heist to bring ghostly terrors waiting in the Trask Mansion out of the woodwork . You're familiar with the Trask Family, aren't you? Of course you are. Like any perfectly functioning familial unit filled with serial-killing miscreants, the Trasks have managed to kill, make disappear, and commit enough urban legend trauma on close to a hundred people who never left the mansion after they arrived. Not while alive, anyway.

This five-issue series from Image Comics comprising Joshua Williamson's storyline could have used at least one more issue to lessen the hastily explained revelations he piles on top of each other in issue five. Up to then you will think the story's going one way, but then it goes down another, without much cleverly hidden, but necessary, preparation to ease the transition. It just happens rapidly and it's assumed we will accept it all at face value. Tsk. Tsk.

But this is still a good story, with a classic sense of scares and their timing: how can you not love a haunted mansion with wall to wall ghosts, a rich man who wants to add one of them to his occult collection, an ex-convict (actually, he was never officially released), and an assembled group of talented people who'd fit in nicely on an episode of either television's Ghost Hunters or Oddities.

There's Edzia Rusnak, the psychic and medium who's either really good or really fake; the so-so stage magician, Robby Trick, who has a knack for real magic and stealing occult items;  Oliver King, who mainly detects bullshit, so he's the skeptic in the group (yes, actually there's a reason to have him onboard); the TV ghosthunting team of Jay and Joe Burns, and yes, they do get burned badly here; and let's not forget that ex-convict, Jackson Winters, who's involved because he's experienced a nasty event at a casino heist he orchestrated, where his entire team died, badly, under mysterious circumstances. 

That dying badly part helps to explain why the rich collector of oddities and soon ghosts, Markus, has Anderson Lake (no, he's a she) spring Winters from jail, killing just about every convict and corrections officer in the process. She's a mean mother who dresses in…wait for it…a black jumpsuit. I know. I know. Ever since Emma Peel donned one in television's The Avengers back in the 1960s (and, oh god awfully yes, even in that mess of a movie with the badly miscast Uma Thurman), every dozing writer pulls it out of his flush pile when plain clothes simply won't do for active women of intrigue. 

Then Williamson writes one of the simply funniest three-panel dialog exchanges you will ever see in a comic book, so I won't beat him over the head too much for resorting to black jumpsuit cliches in a pinch. He also has Winters agree to the ghost heist only if Markus provides him with a Sinatra-like blue suit, a Russian hooker with big ones–real or fake don't matter–and a shave. I presume Williamson can shave himself, though, without a Russian accent.

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Helping keep Williamson's writing visually appealing is Goran Sudzuka's dark, horror-filled panels. While he's not one for detailed backgrounds, he's stellar at drawing characters, conveying every nuance of their truths, deceits, and fears with aplomb. The colorist, Miroslav Mrva, is a tad heavy-handed, saturating scenes with too much color more often than I'd like, but then surprises by coming up with spot-on tones for an interior bedroom scene at night and a nocturnal voodoo scene. The Trask mansion and its ghosts under Sudzuka's and Mrva's hands come to life in a strong House of Secrets kind of way. 

The storyline provides basic but classic themes for fans of supernatural horror to savor. Each issue provides enough of the story to carry on by itself, but combined here, the entire run is witty, creepy, and well-plotted between scenes of action, exposition, and mounting tensions; perfect for a quiet late evening at home and read with one light on.