Local #8

Writer: Brian Wood
Pencils: Ryan Kelly
Letters: Douglas E. Sherwood

My loving brothers have brought to my attention that maybe, just maybe, my reviews tend towards the overly-long. Not verbose, per se, but a bit too lengthy. As is my tendency I dismissed these observations with a head shake and a snarl, but after some thought and deliberation I decided that maybe the shit-eaters were not completely in the wrong...or maybe I just got sick of their constant bitching. Looking over my submissions and Sinister's suggestion that I need not review every aspect of a comic – though I am sure that any number topics of discussion are barely even touched upon in any review, much less my own – I approached this new entry with fresh eyes, and a clear purpose: to write a shorter review. Therefore, and without any further ado other, that is, than this entirely unnecessary and – dare I say it? – verbose clause, I give you my review of Local #8...a black-and-white comic.

I picked up this issue of Local mostly because of Wood's DMZ. Even before I got back into comics and began picking issues up quasi-weekly, I made sure I knew what was going on in the world of the occasionally funny papers. DMZ jumped out at me as a very interesting concept and I subsequently ensured that my bookstore carried it. Hearing about Local I thought I ought give it a shot, especially considering how much respect I have for DMZ. Funny that a comic called something like “Local” would, in its introduction to mine eyes, be about my hometown and place of eternal residence, Chicago. This should probably be noted as just the first of a wide array of emotions this comic ran me through.

Needless to say, I haven't read anything else in the series. Typically I hate jumping in blind like this, but it seemed like both an interesting experiment and not a bad way of coming to some sort of conclusion regarding a book's relative “worth.” Yeah, a potentially absurd approach to either get to know a book or judge its value, but hey, this is reviewing and absurdity is more or less assumed. Absurd or no, Local #8 pretty much convinced me that I need to get all of the back issues and add it to my nascent draw list.

While this issue takes place in Chicago, there isn't much of anything “Chicago” in it. Sure, she's waitressing in Wicker Park as the cover suggests and, yes, they do walk to the El tracks at one point, but that's about it. Any number of methods and landmarks exist to place a reader within a context that would be recognizably Chicago, yet none are used here. Oddly, I'm not at all annoyed or perturbed by this as the point is not the city and this sure as hell is not a snub of my home; rather, this comic focuses on the people, not the place and in the case of early twenty-somethings, the place doesn't matter anywhere near as much as what they do, what it is they're looking for. Love, security, fun, some sense of purpose: all of this and much more is at the heart of the comic and not the background against which the trials and travails of the young take place. In that respect, this is a work wonderfully accomplished.

The art has really grown on me since my first look through. I won't say it's “fine and functional” because it is, in fact, something a good deal more. While there is an element of the unrealistic to Kelly's pencil/inks, it absolutely works given the subject matter and the characters involved. Something about this issue and its emphasis on the search, the quest to find an identity and make some sort of a definite move in one's life demands that things not look too real. In fact, the only time there is any note of reality – and this may just be because it's the opening of the issue and I haven't adjusted to the style yet – comes in the first panels in the midst of Megan and her boyfriend engaging in a quickie in the back of the restaurant they work at; she's a waitress, he's a line cook. In that moment of rushed intimacy – and more specifically the second panel, a liplock that does not necessarily clue us into Megan's panties currently dangling from her shoe – a reality is established that not only makes the rest of the issue appear as a sequence of drawings by comparison, but also validates the emotion and the impact of the comic itself. In short, this is a style accomplishing what it needs to accomplish but also improving upon and embellishing the story at precisely the same time. It sets the tone for the rest of the issue without the need for text, demonstrating a use of imagery to establish the extremes of a search, the points of departure and arrival.

The union of text and image demands that both strike the same chord with the same force; a synergistic representation of the panel's intent. To that end, the last word of the text – be it dialogue balloon or thought bubble – need not occur at the same moment as the image rendered. This is to say that the image can take place at the opening of a frame of dialogue or thought process, or the end or anywhere else in between. The key is that the image, somehow or other, expresses the appropriate emotion, conveys the correct message, and vice versa. Consequently, there is perhaps no scene more difficult to convey in a comic book panel than one of intensely subtle emotional involvement: that of grief that knows no depths, revelry in truly evil acts...and the utter exposure to harm that is an expression of romantic love.

I say all of this as a prelude to what is the key panel in the entire comic. In this the final image of Megan and her boyfriend on the penultimate page of the comic, Megan has rejected “Mr. Manners” and returned to the guy she started the issue with, telling him she loves him. It's a beautifully rendered scene incorporating two speech bubbles, one with “...” inside and the other simply containing those three small words. Megan's face is buried in her unnamed boyfriend's shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she stands on tip-toes to achieve this body lock. It is a scene touching in its tenderness and powerful in the rawness of the emotion. The arc of this issue has been one of self-discovery (and so, it seems, is that of the series) and in this moment Megan knows who she is and what she wants. My only qualm is the boyfriend's facial expression: it's just wrong. It has the weirdly put-out unease that doesn't quite sync with the rest of the panel. Like I said in the paragraph above, the images don't have to align with the final bit of text, but I find his expression irritating. Maybe it's just 'cause I'm not the kind of guy that looks irritated when any of my friends go in for that necessary hug, let alone my girlfriend, but it almost suggests that he doesn't love her back...and maybe that's OK. Like I said, this is Megan's road to discovery, not his; so maybe what she says on the last page in what is a clear pan-back shot of the building they're in, that, “Someone who'll love me back” does not refer to him specifically, just a goal and end result she has in mind.

I thought the inclusion of the soundtrack list in the end notes by Wood and Kelly to be clever, if a bit off-putting. Personally, I usually read comics without any real extra external stimuli, just so the comic itself has a chance to tell its story without outside influence; this is more of a general rule for reading anything ever since I fell asleep listening to the Dresden Dolls while reading Lord of the Barnyard...I woke up on a crescendo scared shitless. In my own head, though, I'm guessing that I probably construct a soundtrack of impressions and quietly line-up what I'd use for each scene. The creators' lists are good and all, I just didn't need them/didn't want them. It's kinda like reading a great book as a kid that you loved to pieces and then seeing a movie made based on it and, for me anyways, it takes a long damn time before you can see the characters again as you first saw them and not as they appeared on-screen.

One final note on that key panel and I'll rank and get up out of this piece: concluding the issue with this declaration of love and moment of vulnerability creates a fantastic counterpoint to the opening scene of a quickie in the back. As readers, we go from a moment of rushed intimacy to one that takes its time, does what it needs to. This is also the maturation of the relationship – and of Megan specifically – from brief, ephemeral passion to one of honest emotion and real need. You can fuck anyone in the back of a restaurant – I mean if you can...get into the back of the restaurant that is – but how often can you tell someone you love them and mean it? To me, this is some truly fantastic craftsmanship on Wood and Kelly's parts.

Ranking: Voltron 'cause even without color it still says everything it should say and gives me a lot to say.

Blood Nation #1 of 4

Written by: Rob Moran
Art by: James Devlin
Colors by: Tom Smith

So I'm in the comic shop buying my usual grab bag of sex and violence and, as usual, I run my bloodshot eyes over indie comics. You know the type. Small presses that specialize in either comic versions of sci-fi and horror classics that everyone hates, including the people selling them, or the off the wall, home stapled, artistically (read poorly) inked, sometimes without words because the artwork speaks for it self.... crap basically. But I enjoy looking over these ill-conceived attempts at artistic expression because once in a long, long, long ass while I run across something that can peak my interests or at least make me chuckle drunkenly. It’s like going to garage sales to look at the records: most of the wax you find is shitty Hall and Oats records but every once in a while you find something that is the antithesis of Hall and Oats.

The last time I was slumming it in the indie section I saw Blood Nation. The big "#1 FIRST ISSUE!" bursting from the front cover made me fear the contents but I swallowed my optic fear and picked it up. If I were to judge this comic on it's artwork alone I would have been right to listen to my eyes. The artwork isn't great. It is barely, and I mean just barely, passable. Think cartoon network’s Johnny Bravo without the funny script and moving pictures: just fails to make me content to flip through it. I get the feeling the artist didn't want to draw the background to any of the panels because it might actually give depth to said panels. Often the characters are given simple clothing or simple environments no matter what they might be wearing in previous pages. This lack of effort alone is grounds for dismissal by me.

Now I know I'm being harsh but hear me out, the colorist sucks too. If he sucked as hard in real life as he did coloring this book he could easily produce that mythical golf ball through that length of ordinary garden hose. Shading isn't in this guy's vocabulary. In fact I'm not sure if he could recognize shading unless shading walked up to him and produced several shads of black, blue, purple, yellow, and green on his face for forgetting that when light is anywhere to be found then shadows must be cast. That or the shadows will envelope him and beat him senseless for making them work so much God damned overtime for this comic. That is to say that no middle grown was ever reached. Either everything was pitch black or clearly just wrong. This colorist needs to have his hands removed so he can’t hurt any more poor defenseless eyes ever again.

The artwork is disappointing. "No shit!' you might say, thinking me daft for not remembering the written ass reaming I gave the ink and art workers. "That isn't why the artwork is disappointing," I'll respond while hitting you in the face with the empty beer bottle in my hand, the beer I just finished. Trust me that beer bottle is perpetually there too so watch your mouth. The artwork is disappointing because the cover work is solid. Rob Moran did the artwork for all three alternate covers for this series he created and his talents for art should have been put to use between the covers as well as scripting this artistic train wreck. The score would have been better at least. Shit, I need another beer.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Moran. The creator, writer, and cover artist for this four part series seems to be hampered by his hired help. The only redeeming part of this comic is the story. Inventive ideas and story are the only reasons I'll keep reading the next three parts. The characters are a bit recycled and a little on the overused side. The main characters seem to be the vampire that was once Genghis Khan, which does explain that whole conquering the known world thing, and an old soldier that is basically a punisher knock off with a death wish; Not the best base but he makes it work. Sprinkled throughout this first issue are little tidbits that really make the reader, i.e. me, want to find out what the fuck happened in the soldier's past that he deserves daily beatings as ordered by the president.

Let this issue be a lesson to all comic book writers out there, if you know how to write, and how to draw DO NOT LET SUB PAR TALENT DO INK WORK FOR YOU! At this point if I was Central Head I would make some comparison to some wonderfully written comic that had shitty artwork that is held on some fan boy pedestal or refer to Lefty and his penchant for blaming Grant Morrison for his cancer, but I got nothing.

Rating: Lando, it would have scored higher but the artists decided they wanted to piss all over a good story with their expression.

Beers I drank while writing this review: 3, Pinstripe Red Ale. It’s no New Glarus but nothing really is.

Lone Ranger #2

Writer: Brett Matthews
Artist: Sergio Cariello
Colorist: Dean White
Cover Artist & Art Direction: John Cassaday
Lettering: Simon Bowland

I remember the Lone Ranger. Growing up as a young pup I would watch reruns of the tv show on my parents ginormous TV. So big was this television I swore it must have had Loki as an ancestor. This black and white serial was like magic to me. The epitome of good was the masked vigilante of whom the title of the show reflected. His trusty sidekick was the Indian Brave who spoke broken English and did bad war cries when running into battle… Ok so looking back on it now that show was crap. The good guy always got his ass handed to him by some cool cow poke dressed in black who at some point was outwitted by the idiot wearing white, riding a white horse, but no one could see that coming? I guess this was a time before people had the ability to look up from the ground. All that and Tonto was the stereotypical Native American who was indebted to the masked avenger because he saved his life, who never got his proper due for saving the dumb ass masked avenger whenever he decided to be a idiot hero. My Grandma could physically take the Lone Ranger, bend him over a pool table and not only unmask the jerk-off, but take his pride, wallet, and cherry to boot.

But I digress. This is a review about the new series from Dynamite comics. The two aren't related. It's a completely different species. No one would mistake the comic for the show. Even blind-mutes know the difference and they cant read the comic or watch the show. Anyone who thinks they are similar can meet me behind my favorite bar where I will show them what my Gran taught me.

This issue agrees with my statement of nightmarish nostalgia. The opening page shows the aforementioned Indian Brave standing over a shot up Ranger saying "How." A dubious start I know. Turning the page alleviates all my fears with the following line. "How are you alive?" This comic hates its roots more than homosexual Democrats hate their conservative, Klan attending Republican parents . If I had to pick one reason to continue reading this comic it would be Tonto. I love this guy. If I ever happen to get trapped in a comic book through some rip in the space-time-comic book continuum I want it to the Lone Ranger so I can buy Tonto a drink. Brett Matthews manages to take his weak, under rated predecessor and turn him into a 6'3" bad ass with a sense of humor similar to my own.

That's not to say that Matthews is perfect. He has a long, long, long way to go with the title character if he plans on making him a vigilante in any sense of the word. For fuck's sake, the guy doesn't even drink. Never trust a man that doesn't drink without a good reason. The man is just too weak at this point to be a lead character. Sure, he has the dark past thing down -his brother and father were gunned down- but he is too green to be a successful gunman. I can only speculate that Tonto will be carrying the whole comic for the next few issues. Not that that's a bad thing.

The artwork on this series isn't playing back up to the story though, as it is more of a harmony. Sergio Cariello is a very competent artists who does all the inside work. It's obvious that the artwork here is being pushed on display with a full page panel every four pages it seems like. If Cariello wasn't at least decent this would be torture. With a solid grip on making the bad guys either extremely ugly or so bad ass looking that no one messes with them my only complaint is that his work isn't used on the cover. Cover work should be somewhat interesting. Covers sell the comic to kids of all ages in that supermarket-impulse-buy-of–the-National-Inquirer sort of way. This cover is pretty bland. Just a shot of the Ranger getting ready to put on his mask, which doesn't even come close to happening in this issue. Damned creative license.

I look forward to buying the next few issues of this incarnation of the Lone Ranger, if for no other reason that to see how really fucking bad ass Tonto is. Overall I give this comic a rating of a Gimli; this comic is going to be big but right now it just has a lot going for it. Keep reading to see how it evolves.

New Avengers #28

Title: New Avengers #28
Writer: BENDIS!
Artist: Leinil Yu
Colors: Dave McCaig


The new New Avengers. Re-assembled. Avenging. Or at least trying not to get their asses Negative Zoned by the Tin Man and his Avengers. I must say that of all the fertile ground the Marvel Civil War tilled (and there's oodles, don't let the shit-slingers decieve you) this is where the real action will take place. And BENDIS! gets to scribble both sides of the Avengers squabble. Its a unique position, one sodden in responsibility. Think Geoff Johns, the architect and Universe-shaper extraordinaire over at that other comics megaverse. BENDIS! has that kind of power here, and that kind of responsibility. Years down the line if Marvel becomes a joke you will have to look no further. But if things keep picking up steam as they are now we should be in for something truly special.

Look, I realize the events of New Avengers #28 are just foothills in what are sure to be some serious Kilimanjaros. But I've been reading a whole shit-ton of late 70's Claremont. If anyone mastered the comics equivalent of a long-take, it was him. Yet he was also very much a classicist. every issue, EVERY single one, no matter how embedded in whatever Pheonix/Jean Gray toe-licking adoration/glorification saga, every issue obeyed the set of "single issue comicbook rules" codified long before Claremont grabbed hold of the X-men. One of those 'unwritten' rules is that every issue has to have a villain, an enemy strong enough to feature on the cover putting Cyke and the folks (or whoever) in mortal peril. Because Chris knew that all comicbook readers are not adults, and that kids (as well as most adults) need to see an ass-kicking or three. some explosions. cars over-turned. thrown at people. Big fucking monsters from outer-space.

New Avengers #28 has this in spades. sort of. Because its not quite that cut and dry. The 'plot' of this issue involves the team fleeing from one potential horrific ass-kicking into the next. It is a 'framed' story with a flash-back nuggeted in the middle. We open in Japan where the Avengers Overseas crash at the Silver Samurai's pad after re-capturing Maya Lopez/Ronin/Echo from the Hand. Silver Samurai poses the central question of the issue: "Hey, just how the hell did a bunch of capes sneak out of the States to go save their pal in Japan?" That question is never completely answered. But it will be. It is the thematic equivalent of a teaser. enter flashback from a day ago, Avengers Stateside.

Spiderwoman gets some false intel regarding the apparent non-death of Cap. Avengers assemble, break into (onto?) the Raft in an attempt to save dear Steve. But it's a trick. of course it was. as transparent as Doc Strange's disembodied avatar-ghost thingie. The reader knows this. The Avengers themselves know this. But they have to make sure. Cap would make sure. So they fight through the typical disposable SHIELD grunts only to be trapped and confronted by the Stark, Sentry, et al. But before these two teams get to fisticuffs, the flashback ends preemptively. Because back in Japan first Wolverine, then Spidey senses that Elektra and a biblical plague of frogs-sized pack of ninjas are approaching. And that's where we're left, hanging, waiting for not one but two stories to be completed. So Claremont/late 70's X-men style we don't get the epic single issue battle, but we are presented with confrontation aplenty. Sorta half-assed, but not altogether unsatisfactory.

BENDIS!' dialogue is spot on. His characterisation is pleasing, Cage is obviously the leader, not through brains or raw power (I'm pretty sure Logan or either of the spiderpeople could strategically take Cage if forced to) but through old-fashioned heart. He is man people can get behind. Doc Strange is the deus ex machina mystical type

(BENDIS!: "Let's see I've painted myself into a corner here, just how the hell am I going to... I know! Doc Strange!" That's not entirely fair to the writer, but whatev. nothing but love.)

while Spidey and Logan play comic relief. Everyone is still waiting to find out who the new Ronin is, so he's mostly mum. Fist is there for coolness factor alone, and Spiderwoman, er, i dunno... she's there because otherwise there would be a severe lack of breastage for Leinil Yu to illustrate.

Speaking of Yu, I dig. His artwork is raw and 'pencily', veins bulge, ligaments in muscles protrude, noodles slurp, smoke obscures, spit flies. His Cage is particulary raw and impressive, and his Wolverine should be commended if for nothing else than for not being the eccentric and exaggerated versions that have cluttered Marvel's pages for years now. Logan is short and stumpy, his eyes small to non-existent, smoldering with napoleanic fury.

There's one last nerdy thing I must make mention of... let's call the forthcoming paragraph this review's epilogue. BENDIS! and Yu pay homage to two of the greatest figures in all of comics by gracing this issue with their two panel presence. However I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. These are all nerd-complaints, but how exactly would the Endless be tricked into believing one of Doc Strange's magical ruses? Is Strange that powerful? My colleague here at Cerberus says indeed he is, but I'm not so sure. Also, the speech bubbles of said cameo characters are rendered like everyone else's. But the balloons should different, befitting the speakers as they have always been dialogue-ed. Unless these two figures are just kids who happen to be dressed up. which is, i guess, a possibility. At least that is what Marvel will tell its lawyers to say come lawsuit time. Then again Gaiman is on the pay-roll now, so perhaps this is all fair game.

I rank the whole kit and caboodle a gimli, since the upcoming action will likely make this guy an overlooked diamond in the rough.

Crossing Midnight #4

Writer: Mike Carey
Pencils: Jim Fern
Inks: Mark Pennington
Colors: Jose Villarrubia
Letters: Todd Klein

Brother Sinister Head said something pretty funny prior to our crawl to the bar the other day. “I was walking around the Indie publisher section the other day and saw that Ellis, Carey, Brubaker and everybody have something or other out. Comics must pay shit if they have to write this much!” While it is plausible that this seeming landslide of work would have more to do with a desire to tell story after story – to relieve some of the pressure on their skulls mayhaps, or increase/maintain their street cred among the comic book literati – it does raise the question of pecuniary remuneration on the part of the publishers. That said, today we will consider Mike Carey's latest money-making scheme.

I jumped on board this comic more or less as soon as I heard about it; I've liked Carey's work in the past and getting in on the ground floor of a series is always fairly exciting. Since it was just starting up, I thought I'd wait to write a review until the first story arc had time to set something of a tone and acclimate the readers to this new world. So here we are on issue four and my feelings remain much the same as when I first started reading the book: mixed. Rather than address the series initially, my preference is an evaluation of this most recent issue with the hope that said commentary will go some distance towards explaining my feelings overall.

A rather tight issue, the various notions and sundry components that comprise this issue work quite well together. The character development is strong, with a focus on the twins' mother Miya throughout the majority of the 22 pages. Her fractured inner monologue is fascinating and a wonderful means of exploring this family that forms the heart of the narrative. The paneling and layout do yeoman's service in providing effective visual evidence of this. Outside of Miya's portion of the story, they, the paneling and layout that is, don't necessarily blow the roof off, but they certainly don't get in the way either. Separate from Miya their purpose is to provide the framework for the tale's progression. OK, mission accomplished on that one.

The art is fine and functional, something I've come to discover is a pretty common term in my critical repertoire. It serves the purpose of getting the story across, but doesn't exactly make the reader stand up and shout. I probably shouldn't complain or take too harsh a tack as I couldn't draw my way out of a box. Not that I hate it or anything, but it certainly isn't the engine powering the story, unlike McNiven's work on Civil War, which made that comic readable even at its most frustrating. I would suggest that many of the major images are rather reminiscent of film stills, though there remains a subtle something going on that bothers me in that can't remember a band name sort of way. The coloring doesn't exactly provide an assist, as there appears to be almost no shading with each object containing and presenting a rather flat looking hue; I'd argue that this is pretty damn disconcerting. Because of this it is perhaps easiest to say that the art is the cause of something of a disconnect between reader and comic, though it's hard to say that this is a bad thing given the book's focus and the fantastic elements employed.

I do have to commend two great images, primarily because of the subtlety employed. The first involves the scavengers that gathered to consume Miya's tattered soul. Sliced to pieces in the previous issue only to be reformed moments later, her physical appearance belies the fact that her soul has been “shredded,” as the newest character to the stable, Nidoru, describes it. The specific image that I, at least, responded to involves a memory panel being grabbed by clawed hands and torn from its place on the page. I just think this is a great way to not only reinforce the previous and subsequent panels as memories but also a great visual representation of what these Araburu are trying to do.

The other image takes place toward issue's end and involves Toshi. Her new master Aratsu uses one of his many swords to slice through her twice, cutting “away past and future.” The final unframed image on the page is of Toshi from mid-chest on up, tears streaming down her face. That alone is rather nicely done, but it's her eyes that jump out at me. The color is slightly different than in any of the other close-ups of her face and they appear to be without pupils. Maybe this doesn't represent a major change in character presentation and has solely to do with the tears, but there remains something striking about it, as though living solely in the moment without a past and future her eyes have taken on a more ephemeral, simultaneously lighter and cloudier appearance.

Insofar as Carey's textual contributions go, things are pretty shipshape. The dialogue is more or less spot on and though not much is explained about what in the hell is going on, characters are furthered and the reader continues to be drawn in. As with the art, subtlety seems to be the word of the day and, for now at least, it's working rather well. Textual representation, well that's got Todd Klein on it...probably 'nuff said. Moving away from the text alone, quite a bit takes place in the overall story, but going into it all is neither a necessary nor an easy task. Weird going-ons, strange figures with bizarre powers making deals with children and anyone who knows what's up is keeping pretty well mum: story of the story thus far.

I will say that this issue wasn't exactly my favorite thing ever upon first read-through. Dwelling on it since, it's grown on me quite a bit. I've come to appreciate J. H. Williams III's cover art as a great presentation of the issue. Miya as a cutout doll, Toshi only as a sketch and Nidoru ripping out of the middle of the page: it's a great issue-cover interchange. Similarly the first page took a couple glances before I came to appreciate its strength and beauty, as well as the tone it sets for the issue as a whole. I probably should have included that page in those little “great images” paragraphs, but eh, what can you do; it'd be like me actually giving a cover artist a shout out at the beginning of a review with the other contributors: not likely to happen anytime soon.

Digressions aside, it's the place in the series as a whole that makes this issue such fertile ground for thought. On the other hand, what with this being the fourth issue of a comic that has no connection to any other comic source material, it might be a bit unfair to judge it too harshly for relying on what has come before and the promise of the future. This is what causes me to state that my feelings are mixed on this comic overall and hesitate with my final ranking without exploring this a bit further.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like this comic quite a bit and will definitely be with it over the long haul barring some momentary relapse into insanity on my part or complete and nuclear letdown on Carey's. I can't, however, in good faith say that this is a great comic for the simple reason that I am not even sure what it is yet. The reader is still very much in the dark on most every major plot point with the introduction of most every new character somehow or other increasing the number of questions while offering a sense of direction and purpose to the story as a whole. In my book that's the mark of damn fine storytelling, but it doesn't resolve any of my questions as to what in the hell is going on. Really, I don't mind not knowing what's up – I'm pretty used to that frankly – and I certainly don't mind giving a series that I find quite interesting in its own right the time to find its way. Hell, The Sandman took, what, like eight issues before things really started rolling. As in the case of that particular cultural landmark, Crossing Midnight has all the potential in the world to tell a sprawling tale that manages to evoke a sense of the epic and the intimate from one issue to the next, and sometimes even both at once. Thing is, I'd like to think that I'd've reserved a showering of golden praise – um...ew; i feel dirty for having even written that and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly don't hang out in the textbook aisle enough – or even acerbic criticism in The Sandman's early going until that first issue involving Death, which in my mind blew the doors off of what was already a damn fine series. Even as I write this, I can see where I think Crossing Midnight is headed and acknowledge the sheer potential it contains, but I also think that a certain critical distance might not be such a bad thing either.

Ranking: Starting as a Gimli, moving towards a Snake-eyes. Nothing quite like the product of hot ninja-dwarf unions.