Author: Luke M.

Story by Kurtis Wiebe
Art by Riley Rossmo

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t get Green Wake. From the very start I’ve been confused by Wiebe’s noir(ish) murder mystery, because he layers his world with so much pretentious existentialism that I have trouble understanding what, exactly, I’m supposed to care about. The latest issue doesn’t help matters, opening up more threads than it closes and not really hinting toward a real resolution.

We are given several insights into detective Morley’s life before, both via flashbacks and an impenetrable conversation with a priest named Ishum, and we follow murder-suspect Ariel as she flees from Morley’s pursuit and into the presence of a town prophet who claims to have the key to escaping Green Wake. Woven into these plotlines is some sort of wraith creature whose appearance we are told “will not make sense”, random appearances by other half-human creatures, and a vision of some behemoth corpse-toad.

It doesn’t help that I’m not nearly as enamored with Riley Rossmo’s art as others seem to be. While his sketchy style may be a perfect compliment to Wiebe’s haphazard scripting, I’m left feeling only that there could be some beautiful art buried beneath all those needless scribbles. His tendency to add impact with shocks of color might work for some, but here it feels as though it’s being used to distract the reader from otherwise muddled artwork.

And after all of that, I’m still not sure of the point of it all. I feel like there are interesting nuggets to be sifted from Green Wake, but Wiebe has neither given me the tools to do so, nor the hooks to make me want to.

Story by Arvid Nelson
Art by Lui Antonio

Having been separated from Deja and Sola as they escaped from the green Martian caravan, John Carter awakes before a great desert complex on the brink of death.

This is only the beginning of an issue that spans a significant amount of story in a very short space. The minor plot points contained within could have been expanded into a multi-issue arc, but each beat is instead compressed into a few pages before moving on to the next. Arvid Nelson handles the transitions gracefully, though, and the issue flows well without getting too choppy.

It does, however, have a slight “get from point A to point B” feel to it, with some moments feeling rather forced. The conversation with the Jeddak’s butler at the end of the issue felt somewhat rapid-fire, but the final page brings the necessity of that rush into focus. Overall I enjoyed the journey, but at times I wished I could have spent more time with some of the characters and locales.

Antonio’s art went a long way toward adding to that feeling. Between his characters and layouts and Adriano Lucas’s vibrant colors, the artwork does a fine job of drawing you into Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Mars-scape and making you wish to linger just a little bit longer. If I have one complaint about the art it’s that the colors, while lush, were a little inconsistent, especially when portraying John Carter’s altered skin color.

Warlord of Mars #7 is a bridge issue, portraying many of John Carter’s travails en route to returning to Deja Thoris. While not as focused as I would have liked, the issue is fast and smoothly paced. I’m enjoying this adaptation of ERB’s original story so far – Warlord of Mars is worth a look.

Story by Joe R. Lansdale
Art by Sam Keith

I’m not sure where to begin with 30 Days of Night: Night, Again, so I’ll start by saying that I wasn’t as enamored with Steve Niles & Ben Templesmith’s original work as many others were. I found the concept interesting but poorly executed, and it never really caught my interest.

Night, Again takes “poorly executed” to a whole new level. Joe Lansdale’s script is as vapid as it is pointless, devoid of any redeeming qualities that would make reading the book even mildly interesting. Characters’ actions make little sense, and there isn’t a likable or identifiable personality among them. Between the one-dimensional crew of Barrow survivors and a group of the dumbest “scientists” ever depicted in fiction, I was never able to identify a protagonist in the story. It’s almost as if Lansdale wants me to root for the entire cast’s destruction.

Unfortunately, even the brand’s trademark vampires are poorly represented here, making it impossible even to support them in that respect. They are merely tools for senseless gore, and their pursuit of the main characters is such a crudely constructed plot hook that you just want it to be over. Simultaneously, a second plotline involving a group of climate change researchers (aided by plenty of the writer’s hammer of a political agenda) is so asinine that I was left gaping like an imbecile at the end of the book.

Sam Keith’s artwork brings nothing but disappointment, especially for anyone who remembers his glory days on The Maxx and Wolverine. His work on this book is so lazy as to almost be insulting that IDW would even consider it finished.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single redeeming quality in Night, Again.

Story by Mike Mignola & Scott Allie
Art by Karl Moline

The Dead Remembered, a tale of B.P.R.D.’s history set in the early ‘70s and featuring an origin story of sorts for everyone’s favorite pyrokinetic Liz Sherman, concludes with Liz and her new friend Teddy venturing into the haunted woods to pursue the ghost that Professor Broom is attempting to exorcise from the house of his friend Father Vafides.

From issue 1, The Dead Remembered’s tale of the spirit of a woman persecuted in the Salem Witch Trials has taken a back seat to a story of Liz’s history and character. In issue 3, however, Liz’s presence feels more like the catalyst for the ghost storyline’s resolution, and little time is spent on her as a character of any depth. She’s represented more as a spoiled and petulant teenager than a tortured one, and there’s very little growth to be found.

The negative impact of shifting the focus of the arc back to the ghost story is compounded by the fact that its conclusion is mostly unsatisfying. One of the book’s key action beats happens off screen and the book’s “twist” – while not entirely predictable – just felt… unimportant. There’s no real impact to its revelation, and it draws attention away from what should be the book’s core.

There’s virtually no character development present in this book. That’s forgivable for the side characters (even Professor Broom), but for Liz it’s disappointing, especially since the arc is supposed to be about her. I was hoping that this story would conclude with a deeper look into the events that shaped the Liz we know today, but somewhere near the beginning of this issue her story faltered and never recovered.

In the end, issue #3 rounds out The Dead Remembered as a rather inconsequential B.P.R.D. ghost story. It fills some time, but never really fills in any gaps.

Story by Doug Murray & Frank Cho
Art by Alex Medellin

In the not-too-distant future, Earth’s resources are tapped by inevitable overpopulation. Humanity looks to the stars for its salvation, developing a faster-than-light “wormhole drive” that will allow expeditions to travel the necessary distances. Unfortunately, entering a wormhole kills anyone with a y-chromosome, leading to the recruitment of 50 women from around the globe whose genes contain only x-chromosomes.

If the premise sounds a bit absurd, that’s because it is. Co-created by Frank Cho, it’s no real surprise that the backbone of the book is a story based around an entirely female cast. It works relatively well, though, and introduces some interesting dynamics that will hopefully develop over time without leaning too far into overt eroticism.

The story in this first issue feels a little choppy, especially in the first few pages. An attempt is made to start the book on an action beat then rewind slightly, but the rewind isn’t represented well and comes across very confusing. Had the first two pages of the book simply been moved into chronological order, I think the scene represented there would have had just as much – if not more – impact.

Alex Medellin’s artwork is really where this book shines. Infused with a 50’s sci-fi vibe but written with modern sensibilities (ala Fear Agent), the book’s visuals are intriguing and fun. The most successful thing about Medellin’s artwork here is that even though all of the women in the book are stereotypically gorgeous, they are each unique and easy to differentiate from one another. I never found myself wondering which girl I was looking at – a frequent occurrence in other female-centric books like Y: The Last Man.

Overall, 50 Girls 50 is an interesting premise that makes for an enjoyable sci-fi excursion. If future issues and arcs can focus on the unique nature of the all-female cast, this could be a solid entry in the Image lineup.

Story by Joe Brusha, Linda Ly, & Raven Gregory
Art by Judit Tondora & Antonio Bifulco

Zenoscope’s newest book under the Grimm Fairy Tales brand takes a dark, high-fantasy look at the characters from Peter Pan, beginning with everyone’s favorite fairy, Tinkerbelle. Her story is one of betrayal, framed for the murder of the fairy realm’s princess and facing judgment from the queen.

Throughout the story the writing is amateurish, full of one-dimensional characters and a blundering, shallow plot that never finds a real resolution. Belle spends the entire book bemoaning her circumstances as she is bluntly manipulated by a group of fellow fairies, whose motives are never explained or even hinted at. All I was able to glean from this story is that a group of petty fairies decide that ignorance and affluence are reason enough for blackmail and murder.

A perfect complement to the insipid scripting is the artwork, provided by two artists so wildly different in style that their partnership on this book is somewhat senseless. Judit Tondora’s painted artwork is passable if a bit immature, reminiscent of early ‘90’s Magic: The Gathering artwork. Antonio Bifulco’s art, on the other hand, is unforgivably sketchy, at times so much as to look incomplete. Many of his pages look as though they simply included his roughs as finished artwork.

As a package, Tales From Neverland is simply awful. The book reads like vaguely erotic fan-fiction, aided by blatantly eroticized cover artwork and ridiculous character designs (is every fairy a cosplaying pornstar?). If you’re desperately itching for good alternate Neverland stories, go re-watch Hook.

Story by Robert Kirkman
Art by Jason Howard

The best Saturday morning cartoons have always straddled the line between acceptable children’s entertainment and referential enough for adults to enjoy. Cartoons like Transformers, X-Men, and Exo-Squad were some of the best at striking that balance. Super Dinosaur has made no bones about the fact that it’s a kid’s book, a Saturday morning cartoon in comic book form. Issue two picks up with SD testing out an awesome new harness while Bruce Kingston reveals some awesome new projects to make SD even more awesome. On the other side of the world, Max Maximus vamps about his secret plans and demonstrates his superiority over all dino-men.

Issue 2 never really settles into an appropriate voice, and feels too self-aware to ever appeal to an adult audience. To put it in the simplest terms: it’s trying too hard. The book touches on every superficial subject that would appeal to its target demographic from awesome dinosaur fights to awkward parental relations to teen angst to friendship to feeling like a misfit. Kirkman tries to cram all of this into a single issue and ladles in enough “Awesome!”s to choke McCauley Culkin (three in the first panel!). In the process he loses sight of the characterizations that would actually make the story interesting.

I understand that I’m not the target market for the book, but at times it almost feels like a failed parody of our favorite cartoons rather than an homage, and never really finds a groove. While it might appeal to a small number of the younger demographic, it doesn’t have the hooks to draw in a wider audience, and is ultimately an unsatisfying attempt at a young reader’s book. Maybe I’m just not awesome enough for it.

Story by Stuart Moore
Art by Carlos Rodruiguez & Sergio Arino

In the penultimate issue Namor: The First Mutant, Krang’s insurgency comes to a head after the murder of the royal logomancer, while a mysterious visitor triggers new horrible visions for Namor’s new lover Abira. Namor must deal with both problems resolutely or risk both his position as king and the well being of Atlantis as a whole.

It’s clear that Moore is driving toward an appropriate ending for the series. The Fire Down Below arc is suitably epic, but feels cramped in its small 3-issue space. Many developments are resolved unreasonably quickly, creating an awkward pace for the book. Due to the condensed timeline, Loa is sidelined in this issue as we focus on more central characters, and it’s a shame that we won’t get to see her develop more of her own part in Namor’s story.

While I don’t want to give away the “twist”, I have to say that it felt very derivative, a fact that Moore even calls out in the dialogue. Unfortunately, even Loa’s quip about the “futurepast” doesn’t do enough to deflect the overly familiar essence of the plotline, but Moore handles it reasonably well. With the writer making it clear he’s aware of the story’s secondhand nature, we can hope that he’ll wrap it all up in interesting fashion. Rodriguez and Arino’s artwork is nothing special, and pales in comparison to the series’s preceding artists, Ariel Olivetti and Phil Noto. Unfortunately this means that the “suitably epic” (to quote myself) final storyline doesn’t get artistic treatment to match, which brings the book to a close on another down note.

I wish I could say that this arc is leading to a fitting end for the short-lived title. Namor: The First Mutant never really found its footing, though, and this issue serves to illustrate the reason for its sub-par sales. It’s not bad, by any means, but it feels exactly like what it is: the rushed wrap-up to a cancelled TV show.

Story by Roy Thomas
Art by Mike Hawthorne

One of two Conan releases this Wednesday, Road of Kings follows an earlier tale of the Cimmerian as he escorts the princess Olivia along the titular road across Hyboria, back to her home in Ophir. Issue 5 picks up after Olivia’s abduction at the hands of the scoundrel Fharos, who’s looking to claim a reward for her return to her father, and Conan’s pursuit of the pair.

Given a chance to stand solely on its own merits, Road of Kings #5 could hold up as a middling entry in the Conan saga; a mildly entertaining diversion. Unfortunately for this book it released alongside the clearly superior King Conan: The Scarlet Citadel #6, and suffers in the comparison. Where Timothy Truman’s narration and dialogue easily flow around Hyboria’s inhabitants, Roy Thomas’s language sometimes feels stilted and artificial. It’s a small complaint, though, and one made more evident by the contrast.

This issue’s story is entirely setup for an inevitably bloody finale, which makes it feel a little plodding. A particular non-encounter with a typically fantastical beast was much more filler than adventure, and was indicative of the books overall pacing. Hawthorne’s art is passable if a bit boring, and feels like a standard Dark Horse “b-team” book. It’s not an overwhelmingly negative feeling, but I can’t really praise this issue in any meaningful way either.

If you’re a Conan completist and just want more Conan, pick this one up. If you have to choose between this week’s Conans, go with Truman’s more consistently solid work and leave this one by the wayside.

Story by Paul Tobin
Art by Clayton Henry & Sergio Cariello

Fresh off of Spidey saving her butt from the Hobgoblin, Anya recruits his help in tracking down her father’s killer via a series of clues about the mysterious Raven organization. The issue opens with the two battling a small army of brainwashed “American ninjas” in a Raven research lab, which is riddled with several of my niggling peeves about the issue.

The portrayal of the 16 year-old Anya is clumsy and incongruous. What’s supposed to come off as a young girls’ immaturity simply feels like irrationally erratic behavior, even for a teenager. Where Brian Michael Bendis succeeded in his representation of a teen’s reactions to difficult situations, Tobin unfortunately misses the mark; Spider-Girl feels like a caricature of a teenager based on an adult’s perception rather than a flesh-and-blood girl. Even Spider-Man feels flat here, his trademark wit replaced by innocuously dull dialogue.

Peppered into that caricature are heavy-handed pop-culture references that will undoubtedly be dated in the very near future. The nods to Twitter in the issue lacked consistency, and feel contrived as a result. One particular page of Anya and Spidey dealing with some Raven scientists would have been better served with traditional narration, and it felt Tobin used the Tweets to circumvent actually writing the scene.

The issue’s artistic duties are split between the clean lines of Clayton Henry and the inconsistent art of Sergio Cariello. The wide gulf between these two artists’ styles is immediately apparent, and has a detrimental effect on the book. The transition from Cariello’s old-fashioned and, I’m sorry to say, rather boring panels to Henry’s graceful and dynamic layouts is jarring, especially in the last two pages.

The most recent issue of Spider-Girl is disappointing at its best, inconsistent and frustratingly gimmicky at its worst. Issue #7 is a throw-away that could likely be skipped entirely without losing pace in the greater storyline.