by Jeff Smith

Cartoon Books / Scholastic

Jeff Smith’s Tolkien-esque fantasy comic book saga evokes the best of Lord Of The Rings; the epic, heroic quest, the fantastical characters, and the threat of a great darkness threatening them all. It also contains every element of a classic fairytale; the imperiled magical kingdom, the great evil, beautiful princesses, and fairy godmothers (although in this case that role is played by a Giant Red Dragon). And it does all this with a smile and a laugh. That’s some achievement.

The three Bone cousins; Fone, Phoney, and Smiley (everyman, avaricious crook and goofy one respectively) are small, white, big nosed caricatures, with an immediate Disney charm, who find themselves lost in a seemingly idyllic, medieval valley. But beneath it’s idyllic facade, the valley hides a dark and mysterious past. There’s a war coming and the Bone cousins have an integral part in it. Many of the principal characters are not what they seem; beautiful farm girl Thorn (Fone Bone’s unrequited love) and her Gran’ma Ben (sweet, formidable and prone to racing cows – alongside them, not astride them) have magical and royal pasts and the evil Hooded One turns out to be the evil queen/ wicked stepmother type figure so beloved in traditional fairy tales.

Where Bone trumps Tolkien’s fantasy is with the hilarious comedy that runs through the story. There are few people in comics today that tell a visual gag with the style, panache and side splitting timing of Jeff Smith:

(Stupid, stupid rat creatures. Brilliant. From Jeff Smith’s Bone One Volume Edition)

Bone, like Tolkien, like classic fairytales, sits perfectly with all ages. For children there’s the 9 volume multi-million selling colour editions and for adults the huge One Volume Edition; with Smith’s stark, beautiful art in it’s original black and white.  Personally I think it depends on the reader’s age; I much prefer the easier to get hold of One Volume Edition, Molly prefers the Scholastic editions. But whatever flavour you get, you be enjoying it for a long time to come.

Jeff Smith’s Bone deserves a place, not only amongst the likes of Walt Kelly’s Pogo and Carl Barks’ Uncle Scrooge as a wonderfully important comic, but also amongst Tolkien and JK Rowling as a wonderful work of all-ages fantasy fiction.

(The Bone One Volume Edition is the latest classic graphic novel we’ve picked in our weekly comics newsletter – we’re offering it at a whopping 40% off until March 31st, so get your order in!)

by Warren Ellis and Raulo Caceres

Avatar Press

“This is a secret history. Everything I tell you is true.
Ionic air propulsion. Electrostatic levitation. Electrogravitics. The Biefield-Brown Effect and electro-fluid-dynamics. Nothing here is invented. It simply appears to be uchronic, counterfactual, sitting in the break of a time out of joint.
Everything I tell you is true. It is everyone else who’s been lying to you. I am Captain Swing.”

Here we go again, another Warren Ellis comic that sounds like an absolute blast, full of the sort of manic, extreme, sharply dialogued stuff I enjoy from Ellis on themes both he and I find continually and repeatedly interesting; experimental science, crime, law and strange history viewed through a steampunk lens.

But I’m not going to be fooled this time. I think Ignition City taught me something, finally, about Ellis comics; never be taken in by a first issue full of inventive ideas, sparse on plot and dialogue but full of potential. So I’m going to hold off on fully appraising Captain Swing until the inevitable collection comes out – only then will I be able to tell if that early promise was fulfilled in a satisfying story.

(Captain Swing? Possibly. Electrical? Certainly. Whoever it is, he’s way ahead of both types of policemen here. From Captain Swing And The Electrical Pirates Of Cindery Island by Ellis and Caceres, published by Avatar)

Captain Swing certainly starts out as extremely promising, the title comes from Captain Swing, the imaginary leader of agricultural riots of the 1830s but Ellis spins this idea and his Captain Swing appears to be an electrically charged character who the locals mistake for Spring Heeled Jack – another bit of 19th Century English folklore. Throw in the competing law enforcement of the time between the amateur, underfunded and incompetent Metropolitan Police Peelers and the far more professional, armed, dangerous and corrupt Bow Street Runners controlled by the Magistrates and we get an intriguing setup.

(Oh, those text pages just scream Ellis don’t they? From Captain Swing And The Electrical Pirates Of Cindery Island by Ellis and Caceres, published by Avatar)

Then add in all the allusions to secret histories, electricity, scientific concepts way ahead of their times and a “galvanic cell that fell into the sands of Baghdad in 250BC” introduced on the text pages that litter the comic and Captain Swing comes across as a mysterious and interesting, if short, read.

It’s an immediately gripping first issue, supplemented by Avatar standard colour art by Raulo Caceres – which is not bad, doing everything it needs to do with a little style and the occasional iffy panel or figure.

Captain Swing And The Electrical Pirates Of Cindery Island – style over content, certainly, but it’s Ellis’ style and I’m a fan. Whether the series lives up to this early promise….. this time I shall wait and see. And if nothing else, the series does have that great title and a beautiful cover.

Captain Swing #2 is due later this month.

Written by Fehed Said; Illustrated by Sonia Leong, Nana Li, Wing Yun Man, Chloe Citrine and Faye Yong.

Sweatdrop Studios

This is a collection of short Manga all written by Fehed Said, whose last book The Clarence Principle was thoroughly enjoyed by Katherine back here. Talking To Strangers is themed around some concept of connections with strangers, and they all sit beneath a simply gorgeous cover by Nani Li, with it’s modern conceit of the raised headphone a perfect metaphor for truly opening up to engage with the world.

Inside the book we have six stories, all of decent length (the shortest is the bonus story with just 8 pages – but that’s the exception, most are 30+ pages), something I’m increasingly convinced is necessary in any anthology, and especially Manga, where the storytelling structure and the relatively faster pace of the artwork demands a bigger page count to tell even the simplest of stories. The art is all Manga styled in some way but within that each tale manages to have it’s own, very distinct style; we have very traditional Manga, very Westernised Manga (think Bryan Lee O’Malley for that one), pure cute “bighead” style and much more besides. A veritable visual feast.

(What does an agoraphobic do when his TV breaks? Makes his own TV through his window. Slightly creepy voyeuristic romance from Static by Fehed Said, Wing Yun Man and Faye Yong in Talking To Strangers from Sweatdrop Studios)

I’ll start and end with the best in the book, stories and art working perfectly together and resulting in two fantastic shorts and the first of these is Static, with art by Wing Yun Man and Faye Yong. It tells us the hope filled tale of an agoraphobic, trapped in his littered apartment, newspaper taped to the windows to keep out the world, with television his only friend. But when the TV breaks and his life turns to static, he notices the light coming in through the window where the newspaper has peeled away. Suddenly he has a different view on the outside world, one that’s better than TV, one with a view of the park and two possible lovers. Totally engrossed in their story, just as I was in his, he is eventually challenged to leave his prison to effect a possible reconciliation. It’s a wonderful little story, visually inventive, playful, surreal and great fun, yet still just that little bit strange, just the pleasant side of voyeuristic creepiness.

(A terrifying nightmare – boxed in, trapped, but where? Why? The answers are far more than you’d expect. From Box by Fehed Said and Nana Li in Talking To Strangers from Sweatdrop Studios)

The first tale in Talking To Strangers is the creepiest story of the lot; Box, illustrated by Nana Li in traditional style full of expression and quite a lot of chilling images. I’m loath to spoil the ending as it’s definitely not what you think it will be, but suffice it to say that it’s a bizarre, slightly nasty tale of two strangers who find themselves trapped in something worryingly like coffins; are they alone, are there more strangers out there in similar circumstance, and what connection does it all have to the grieving families in a hospital? Mysterious, slightly ghoulish and a great start to the book.

Malignant, with art from Chloe Citrine is more emo-esque fairy tale than out and out horror. A good enough tale, but too heavy handed, starting with “There once was a boy carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder” on a page with a boy pulling a large rock, chain attached to his neck, up a hill. The hill gets steeper, the rock gets bigger, he meets others along the way all tethered to the earth by their own chains. He’s planning to throw the stone off the bridge and rid himself of it. But what if the stone is too big, what will he do then when the weight of the world gets too much? Well, he is on a bridge with a chain attached to his neck…… like I said, heavy handed. Nice enough, a pleasant read, but it was always struggling to get past that concept that (ahem) weighed it down.

Hero with art by Sonia Leong is another very dark tale, of an abused boy putting up with his father’s beatings and finding a strange ally and potential saviour in the hooded figure who lives opposite. It’s a horrible subject and handled as such by Said. But there’s just something about it which fails to connect, the story seems too fragmented, the mystery too forced. Again, good but not great.

The final story; the 8 page The Old Man with art by Faye Yong is the weakest of the book, with a story that’s just too trite and simplistic – oldest man on earth has press conference to talk about how he got to live to 150, ends up spinning a parable about living for others  and being a citizen of the world. It takes just 8 pages because there’s not really that much to say.

(From Flowers by Fehed Said and Faye Yong in Talking To Strangers from Sweatdrop Studios)

And I’ll end with the best thing in Talking To Strangers, a story that’s just packed with imagination and wonderful storytelling, and as the couple of panels above should tell you – a lot of perfectly timed comedy as well; Flowers, done in fantastic “chibi” style by Faye Yong. A brother and sister, Simon and Elowena discover an abandoned square, fenced off from the world and containing two little flowers. Poor Elowena takes one home, innocently telling it “I’ll put you back after show and tell on Friday“. It ends badly for the flower the following morning.

From there this tiny slice of life tale becomes something far more sci-fi, as we discover we’re in a future where flowers have been extinct for 200 years and Elowena has stumbled across two (now just one) of the last specimens in the world. Her increasingly desperate attempts to look after this last flower, through summer, autumn rains and the eventual, devastating winter (for both flower and girl) are equal parts funny and heartbreaking. And at times it’s very funny, with the set piece of Elowena’s puffer jacket being so restrictive it forces her to walk along as if she’s trying to fly a highlight early on. Smiles and laughter. Brilliantly paced, perfect timing.

Elowena realises that she was too selfish with her treasure and, after the flower dies in the winter she just wishes she could have the chance to share the magic with her friends. And so do we. It’s staggeringly simple, beautifully good, full of simple, evocative emotion, and quite wonderful.

Talking To Strangers is a strong anthology, with at least two stories (Static and Flowers, maybe three in Boxes) that are absolutely top notch examples of great storytelling. But like any anthology of worth, my favourites may not be yours, in which case, please, please, seek this out and discover it for yourselves. It’s available from the Sweatdrop Studios website for just £6 – and considering my favourite stories have 100 pages between them that’s excellent value.

Richard Bruton.

By Edward Ross

Self published

I spotted this mini-comic on a recent trip to Edinburgh’s Filmhouse (spiritual home to the city’s film festival and a mecca for those who love quality cinema from around the world). A short comic on film theory? Unusual topic but since I spent a fair chunk of my college time studying film theory I was intrigued and picked it up (admittedly a considerable part of my studying involved watching movies in that same Filmhouse, but that counts as research, not bunking off classes, honest). Film and media studies can leave mental scarring for life, with victims still moved years after university to indulge in pseudo-academic discussion (or talking cobblers in the pub post-film, depending on your point of view and level of inebriation) in which they use terms like “the paradigmatic and syntagmatic nature of the text.” I shall endeavour not do that here. Filmish is a short work, black and white, nice, clear artwork with card covers,  and obviously it can’t cover several decades of film theory in any depth, but Edward opts smartly to take just three areas as examples and discuss those: Monsters, Food on Film and Point of View (the longest of the three chapters).

Monsters was a lot of fun for me – it will surprise no-one that I worked the more fantastical and horror genres into my film studies back in college. Actually this wasn’t just because of my own interest in those genres – films with science fiction, horror and monsters in general are a hugely rich subject area for academics. It shouldn’t be surprising since these are genres which often use the theatrical trappings of the fantastical to explore real, everyday human fears and concerns. Edward notes this and how the filmic monster has changed throughout the decades in response to historical and cultural forces: Gojira in early 50s Japan playing on the fears created by the atomic bombings which ended World War Two, the ‘reds under the beds’ scare of McCarthyist America in the 50s and how the original, classic Invasion of the Bodysnatchers fits the rampant paranoia of the time and the fear of the enemy within, through to the body horror of the 70s and 80s (step forward Mr Cronenberg) and the 21st century return to the big monster movie with Cloverfield, linking the rampaging, city-destroying monster with post-911 fears.

Point of View is the longest segment in the comic and covers rather more than the simple, technical meaning of POV (i.e. the viewpoint presented by the camera’s ‘eye’ to the viewer) but also the cultural point of view: the way a scene or character is framed and the way that influences the way the viewer ‘reads’ the image. Sadly this does mean a bit too much Laura Mulvey and the ‘male gaze’ for my taste (at college I thought Mulvey made some interesting points but as with many academics in this field, only selectively, there are many examples that don’t fit her theories). That said Mulvey is a major writer on understanding film and my personal likes and dislikes aside Edward would be remiss if he didn’t include her in this chapter (thank goodness he didn’t quote Barbara Creed and her ‘monstrous feminine’ or the various Freudian film analysts though).

The POV chapter also takes in later cinema which established different ways of seeing and presenting the world to the audience and changes in the sorts of lead characters audiences are encouraged to identify with, changes which mirror the way society has changed its views on, for example, women. I would question one scene though, where he implies that it was these later films that now allowed the audience to “participate with the film and think about and question the ideology of the onscreen image”; it seems to assume earlier audiences didn’t think about what they were watching, which seems unlikely. The passive audience has often been brought up by media theorists for various mass media, but I’ve never really bought into it (and indeed the old ‘hypodermic needle’ model of totally passive audience acceptance of what they are presented with is largely discredited among many media studies types. Some elements of audiences have always interpreted the text differently from the preferred reading encoded by the maker).

The third and final short chapter is Food on Film – you might have expected something more obvious like a chapter on genre theory, perhaps, but as Edward explains “Wait” Hear me out” It’s not as daft as it might sound. In fact food has long played a major symbolic role in the movies”. He then goes on to cite a number of examples, from the early, silent era (a starving Charlie Chaplin carving up of an old boot as dinner) to more indirect uses of eating to portray characters’ state of mind (the ever increasing breakfast table, one of the simple but incredibly clever devices used to portray the cooling of a marriage in Citizen Kane) through to the more modern era and humans themselves being on the cinematic menu, be it as prey to other nightmare creatures (back to the monsters again! Cinema and film theorists can’t leave monsters and horror alone) or being served up to other humans (as in The Cook, The Thief, The Wife and Her Lover).

As I said at the start it seems an unusual subject matter for a short comic, but the fact that it is using comics on a different theme from many I read is one of the things which interested me. The brevity means there’s no time for much depth in the chosen examples, understandably – you could fill 10, 000 word essays on each of these areas easily (and for some of them I have, in a former life), but obviously Edward isn’t trying to pretend he is giving you that. Rather he’s picking out some major examples and citing some of the important writers in the field of film studies and, importantly, he concludes each chapter by listing both some relevant films and some of the authors and their books which he quotes from, so if you are a movie buff but haven’t delved much into the academic study of the medium there are some good suggested examples of further reading should the comic inspire you (on a personal note I’d add Pam Cook’s excellent The Cinema Book, published by the BFI, as a perfect general primer for anyone interested in learning more about film theory and studies). It’s an interesting wee comic which I enjoyed; I don’t think you have to have any familiarity with film studies to enjoy it though; in fact for those unfamiliar with the field but interested in cinema it probably functions nicely for introducing a few key ideas from the field that they can then follow up for themselves.

There you go and I didn’t use the term ‘intertextual’ once and I have refrained from stroking my beard in a thoughtful manner while discoursing on postmodernism in cinema. You can check out more of Edward’s work via his blog, where I see he is another of our comics community who is taking part in the Hundred Days project and posting up the results, so go check it out.

By Daniel Merlin Goodbrey and Douglas Noble

Self-Published

I looked at Rule of Death last time with issues 1-4 and thought:

“For a book with a man refusing death Goodbrey is never short of a comedy one liner or two. And it’s this refusal to let neither the macabre events or the ridiculousness of the situation get out of hand that sees Rule Of Death rise above what could have been a rather silly or a rather doom laden zombie tale and turn into something far, far better and wonderfully original.“

Issues 5 & 6 of the print version of Goodbrey and Noble’s Western Zombie Gunfighter saga (who better than a man who can’t die to earn big money in gunfight betting?) just kept the whole thing going very satisfyingly indeed. Our dead man Pete Colby and his manager Murphy are in town for a series of gunfights under Pete’s stage name of Slow Draw Pete McGraw, the slowest gunslinger in the old west.

And the entire thing kicks off brilliantly with a marvellous gag of all the gunfights being held at noon, no matter what time it really is. Complete with a man changing the gunfighting time on the special gunfighting clock:

(Well, what time would you put on a gunfight? From The Rule Of Death issue 5 by Goodbrey and Noble.)

Slow Draw Pete McGraw wins, as you might expect, since he can take a hit far better than his opponents. But the end is in sight for Pete, either from the mysterious figure hurtling towards them in a stagecoach murmuring “soon enough Pete Colby, soon enough” or maybe in the shape of the best gunslinger he’s ever come up against. One way or another, the man who refused death has to eventually answer for his decision not to die.

There’s much to enjoy in Rule Of Death, Goodbrey’s writing is crisp and suspenseful throughout all the tense gunfighting scenes, something perfectly drawn by Noble to really play on the slow drawing out of the moment as the clock ticks on to the inevitable sound of gunfire and death. But on top of that there’s the wicked sense of humour that keeps it all from becoming just another zombie western. Hold on, are there any other zombie westerns out there? If there are, this is by far the best of them, and if there’s not, Rule Of Death is just a marvellously original, suspenseful, funny and entertaining first.

(Lovely art and suspenseful storytelling from the gunfight in Rule Of Death by Goodbrey and Noble)

The art in Rule Of Death has been taken directly from the b&w files, resulting in a very crisp and stark look to these two issues (something my crappy scanner is currently refusing to show). But, although I enjoy the crispness and stark contrasts I have to admit that I slightly preferred the darker, greying of the backgrounds when they were taken from the online coloured art in issues 1-4. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot about the crispness of the new comics I love, but the greying backgrounds gave the strip a much darker, disturbing, moody feel.

But that’s probably something you need to work out for yourself. One thing is certain, Rule Of Death is a great story, and there’s even a great cliffhanger to look forward to at the end of issue 6 that made me head online to see how cleverly and sweetly they resolved it (I wasn’t disappointed). But being the luddite where it comes to reading online, I still prefer reading it in comics form, but should you wish the whole thing is in colour at Serializer.net.

Get in touch with either Noble or Goodbrey for copies. But whichever you choose, print or online, it’s a great comic.

Richard Bruton.

by Mike Carey and Peter Gross

Vertigo / Titan Books

by Will Kirkby, Naniiebim, Nikki Stuart, David O’Connell, Sarah McIntyre, Warwick Johnson Cadwell.

Failboat Press

Birdsong is another entry in what is becoming an increasingly crowded category of beautifully designed and executed anthology titles. With just 6 strips in it’s 80 pages, some self-contained stories, some opening entries in serials, this is one anthology where every strip has room to tell a story, and all six make fine use of the space available, making Songbird yet another classy book that you really should be looking at.

One unusual aspect of Songbird is that it’s deliberately designed to be read both ways – with double covers and stories that read from left to right, and one that reads right to left, manga style, and there’s even one designed to read either way.

It features a mixture of new and familiar artists, including a firm FPI blog favourite Sarah McIntyre and one of my favourite recent discoveries, the brilliant Warwick Johnson Cadwell, whose work I first saw and admired so much in New British Comics #2. But best of all, I’ve discovered someone else whose work I’m loving….

(Will Kirkby’s Peckham, hyper-kinetic stuff, bits of Paul Pope, bits of Simon Gane, all gorgeous. From Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

And that someone is Will Kirkby and his strip Peckham, 16 pages of madcap action and absolutely cracking artwork, reminiscent of Paul Pope/Simon Gane in it’s lines and pacing – and that’s some compliment. Peckham’s opening chapter drops us right into the action, where various magical things are going on, hellhounds being sold to local crooks, magical tomes, and even the infamous Enid Blyton Five Find Innsmouth; “written during the dark years when she was fucked off her tits on toad poison and gin”. Peckham, as you’ve hopefully realised, is fast, smart and mouthy. A great opener.

(Nikki Stu’s manic energy laced tale – sort of Stop The Pigeon with manga-ish stylings. From Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

Next up, Nikki Stu with TC. Acorn And Longtail, A Boy And Bird Team. A veritable flight of fantasy with a boy, a bird and a chase to intercept a pigeon that was going so well until the Pixel Moth gets involved. It’s another fast paced strip, with a lovely (if sometimes rough and slightly unclear) style. Packed with potential but just a little bit more control and idea of what she wants to do with the strip and Nikki’s onto a winner.

(David O’Connel’s opener to his 2 pager Little Fish. From Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

David O’Connell’s short 2 pager Little Fish is a quick, simple tale of a couple of sentimental crooks about to rob the local aquarium. The only complaint is that I wanted more. Whilst mentioning O’Connell I should point out that you should be following his great scifi, pulp, steampunk, adventure Tozo comic.

(The marvellous Sarah McIntyre with Thames Reach from Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

Then we get Sarah McIntyre’s Thames Reach which sees a lonely girl wandering around her bit of London and being chosen as a final resting place by a terminal pigeon. Just 4 pages, but I shouldn’t have to tell you by now that I think Sarah McIntyre’s one of the most naturally talented young cartoonists I’ve seen for ever such a long time. That her art is so gorgeously expressive and so mature belies the fact that she’s only been doing this comics lark properly for a few years. Thames Reach is a beautiful, sad little thing of a comic – in just two pages she sketches a sad, lonely character and only adds a little bit of comedy with the inclusion of a dying pigeon. So nicely done.

(The first & last pages from Defenders Of Albion by Warwick Johnson Cadwell,  but because the strips designed to be read either way – a palindromatic comic – it could be last and first. But whatever it is, I think it’s gorgeous. From Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

And then along comes Warwick Johnson Cadwell with his Defenders Of Albion strip. It’s intended to be an ongoing strip but this first 16 pages is a mere preview, constructed oh so cleverly as a palindromatic comic, to be read either way. Packed with expression, emotion and incredible artwork it’s got very little story but introduces us to a schoolboy’s introverted life and the world of Albion that may, or may not, be a figment of the boy’s fantasy life. The Palindromic thing is a cute, clever trick, but WJC’s strip is great without it.

(Ginnel by Naniiebim, done in proper manga style, reading right to left,  from Birdsong 1, Failboat Press)

The final strip in Birdsong is actually the first and only strip in Songbird, designed that way so that Naniiebim’s Ginnel can be presented back to front and left to right in proper manga fashion. The artwork is good; open, rough lines, but lacking focus and the storytelling suffers meaning that 16 pages fly by a little too fast. A boy wakes up, injured and bloody, in a narrow, fenced-in alleyway that seems to loop round on itself in endless repetition. Where the hell is he, why, and most importantly how’s he going to get out? Perhaps the freaky girl who comes along snacking on the snails she’s catching can help? It’s certainly intriguing, but all over too quickly. One to revisit next time and see if it improves.

All in all, six strips, six good reads, with three; Kirkby, WJC and McIntyre’s that were wonderful. That’s a fine, fine bit of quality control. Birdsong issue 2 will be out sometime later in the year. Looking forward to it already.

Birdsong is available to buy from the Etsy store. It’s ever so worth it. And if you want to buy it direct get in touch – contact email is failboatpress@googlemail.com which is also their paypal email as well, the book will set you back just £5 with £1.20 p&p. There’s also a Birdsong blog with works in progress – well worth a look.

by Warren Ellis and Gianluca Pagliarani

Avatar Press

After choosing Warren Ellis as my favourite author for the 5th anniversary post of the FPI blog I can’t help but feel very let down by him after completing Ignition City. It’s a classic example of the sort of writing he’s sometimes capable of, especially with Avatar, who frankly know they’re sitting on a goldmine with anything he writes for them.

Ignition City obviously started out as a fun little idea in Ellis’ mind to combine his oft mentioned ideas that the human race has lessened itself by it’s isolationist, short term thinking when it turns it’s gaze away from the stars with the notion of doing a “what if Flash Gordon was a pissed off, washed up ex-space pilot for whom it all went very wrong?” type of story.

And that’s Ignition City – Flash Gordon gone to seed and the world a worse place because we don’t go to the stars – all done frontier, Western style. With lasers instead of guns. I liked issue 1 and I have to say I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t make the Flash Gordon references at the time – Lightning Bowman? Really? And then there’s the t-shirt with the lightening bolt across it. Plus we have analogs for Ming, Dale and Zarkov and much more in there as well. Was I asleep when I read the first issue?

(Mary Raven gets the bad news about her father and sets off to the wilds of Ignition City. From Ignition City Volume 1. By Ellis and Pagliarani, published Avatar)

So the basic story is that the daughter of a noted space ace finds herself washed up at an early age, space programs are closing down all over and she’s going to be cut off from the stars, a dream she always shared with her big space hero father since she was a babe in daddy’s arms. Daddy meanwhile, has been up to no good in Ignition City – last big space port and operating on some kind of frontier mentality, with the dive bars and corrupt marshalls of the old west. Hell, there’s even old fashioned style gunfights occasionally, except those guns don’t pump lead, they fire lasers.

When Daddy ends up dead it’s up to the daughter to head into Ignition City and get his body back. Except she’s just the sort of girl who’ll get herself involved and start extracting revenge for her father’s death and discovering that he may not have been the man she thought he was. And when she does that she accidentally discovers the big, big secret of Ignition City. And then it’s the end.

(Zarkov Dr Vukovic comes to the rescue. Very Ellis. From Ignition City Volume 1. By Ellis and Pagliarani, published Avatar)

There’s good stuff in Ignition City, for any fan of Ellis’ style of writing, it’s snappy, full of great characters, loads of over the top dialogue and a fair bit of good old fashioned action. All done extremely well, but like so much of his recent work, there’s just not enough meat on the bones of his story to make it feel really satisfying. It’s really just half a story and from a writer that I love that’s just a big letdown. The art by Pagliarani is nice, very much in what has become the Avatar style, with a few panels that are great and a fair few that aren’t so great. But overall he does the flimsy story more than justice.

No news on whether there’s a second volume, but there’s always a good chance that there will be with Ellis and Avatar. Fingers crossed that there’s more to it next time than a host of interesting ideas and great moments.

by Kate Brown

DFC Library / David Fickling Books / Random House

“They tell a prophecy of our homelands being crushed by a falling sky. That fate has been a shadow over our people ever since. The end has begun . . . in my lifetime.”

The Spider Moon is the third in the releases from The DFC library and it’s a lovely book, part gentle eco tale and part European adventure in the manner of Tintin – young people adventuring out into the world of adults, that sort of thing. Yet the artwork is very much in the vein of Euro-Manga, with all the stylistic effects of Manga combined with beautiful, detailed pages of almost pastel toned colours.

It tells the story of a faraway place, a beautiful idyllic world, sea lapping against the shore, picture perfect skyline, where young girls used to dive for pearls. But the homelands are under threat, and the stars are falling, just as the prophesy foretold. The old ways have changed, and they’re now diving for spinefish that can be turned into oil, oil that’s going to be needed to power the giant floating isle that’s meant to take the people away from the coming disaster. How it’s going to do this is never revealed, but everyone in the book believes it will be their salvation.

We follow the events of this world with Bekka, a young girl whose diving test and the mysterious events way beneath the waves point her out as a very special young girl very early on. She’s certainly key to much of the adventures that follow as she travels to rescue her mom from the bird-folk who want to know why the oil hasn’t been getting through. Her journey takes her to the royal palace where she gets herself involved in all manner of strange goings on, meets a young prince ill at ease with his role, and discovers that not everyone in the Royal Palace has the best intentions for the people of this world. This is definitely her story, albeit one we’re only beginning to experience.

(The floating Isle, hanging over Bekka’s world – is it really the salvation they all believe? From The Spider Moon by Kate Brown, published by the DFC Library)

It’s a delightful story, with feisty, interesting characters all told in a wonderfully colourful and gentle style. Molly enjoyed it a lot and we had quite a chat about the story when she finished it – she was particularly taken with the sense of impending doom and how they were going to resolve it. She thought Bekka was “a great character for girls to enjoy, really cheeky and fearless, so not scared of anything!” and pointed out that it was a “great adventure book with lots of interesting things going on, I really liked all of the questions it made me ask – what will the end of the world be like, who are the bad men at the royal palace and I really want to know more about Bekka and her special diving skill.”

This should certainly please Kate Brown, who has said about The Spider Moon that:

“In creating The Spider Moon, I wanted to make something that I would have liked to have read when I was younger. Being strongly influenced by the style of story-telling in cartoons and comics from my childhood, I set out to make something that had the chance to be enjoyed by young girls in particular, as, growing up, I found very few other girls who liked comics, and there were precious few titles around that catered to girls.“

And Kate Brown has succeeded in that – this is very much a comic that should be enjoyed by all, but young girls will particularly enjoy the delightful adventures of Bekka. It’s got a much wider appeal than that of course, just hearing a little about it and seeing some of those particularly sumptuous pages will show you that.

(Bekka’s dive, far deeper than she was meant to go, and what mystery will she find there? Buy the book, it’s right over the page. From The Spider Moon by Kate Brown, published by the DFC Library)

But sadly, there’s a major problem with The Spider Moon – it’s merely an introduction to the story of Bekka and her fascinating world. Because it’s a very fast, open book we’re just getting going, just getting into the whole story when it finishes. I found myself wondering where it was going, only to realise a few pages further on that it wasn’t going anywhere but Book 2.

And this is a major flaw. The whole point of the DFC Library (at least it seemed to me) was to give the comic experience to those unwilling to read comics, or possibly unaware of their existence, via self contained works of graphic fiction, in beautifully designed and executed hardback Euro-BD style album. So why the hell go and ruin it with a story that, no matter how good you might think it is, still effectively prematurely ends on a small cliffhanger, with Bekka in peril at the hands of someone who definitely isn’t on the side of good. And there it is:  “To Be Continued“.

From all of the information I’ve seen, The DFC Library is by no means a long term guaranteed project, with only 7 books announced so far, they’re obviously going to be looking to numbers to decide where to go next. Which is why giving us Spider Moon Volume 1 and ending it without even some sort of small conclusion that was self contained and satisfying within itself is a real let down. I think it’s a mistake and a very annoying one.

However, I know Kate Brown’s got more Spider Moon tales, as they featured throughout the run of the DFC Comic. I’m just hoping that she gets a second book to show them off, because it’s too good to be left hanging like this. Molly and I want to see Volume 2. But sadly we have no idea when, or even if, we shall.

The Spider Moon is released as the last volume in this first wave of DFC Library books on 29th April 2010.

by Dave Shelton

DFC Library / David Fickling Books / Random House

Good Dog, Bad Dog has the honour of being the very first release from the new DFC library and they’ve picked a great opener in this very funny canine cop caper indeed from Dave Shelton.

Two doggy detectives patrol the mean streets of the city of Muttropolis: Kirk Bergman; short, dogged (sorry), serious, prone to Chandler-esque thinking and captions. Bergman’s got a new partner, built big, but gentle with it. And hungry, oh yes, Duncan McBoo can eat. And it’s often surprising that the eating, not to mention his quiet, thoughtful policing (and a good right fist) gets the pair of them out of many a scrape.

As a comedy book it’s only as good as the number of laughs you get from reading it – and on that Good Dog, Bad Dog scores high, Dave Shelton’s packed this with enough really bad puns, funny action and daft characters to make it really funny.

But it’s the combination of some wonderfully funny dialogue and the great pacing of Good Dog, Bad Dog that really wins the day, the pages are all full of madcap, slapstick scenes with Bergman and McBoo dashing from one clue to another in each case, all the while finding lots of great ways to raise a smile.

After Molly’s reluctance to sample the delights of MeZolith I’m pleased to be able to report that she absolutely loved the silliness of Good Dog Bad Dog, and pronounced it her favourite of the first set of DFC books:

“It’s a really funny detective doggy story, with lots of silly villains and really cool stories. I liked everyone, but my favourite character was McBoo – he’s hilariously stupid and always looking for more food!“

(“Oh goody! Dressing up!” It’s a great line from McBoo and an even funnier visual gag as payoff. From Dave Shelton’s Good Dog Bad Dog, published by The DFC Library)

This first volume sees our two canine coppers in three adventures; and right from the start it’s funny, with Bergman meeting McBoo for the very first time as he attempts to crack a robbery case. Bergman’s the moody straightman for McBoo’s bumbling, accident prone nice guy sleuth, more likely to accidentally get the result than all of Bergman’s careful investigating. But it’s a winning and funny combination of characters that starts Good Dog, Bad Dog on the right track to being a very funny comedy book indeed.

After bumbling his way around the investigation, McBoo eventually proves his worth, being in exactly the right place at the right time to crack the case – perhaps this incompetant copper is more clued up than he seems? And it always helps that he’s got a great right arm right arm:

(That’s a great last panel, I don’t know what’s funnier – the “Oh Dear” or the wonderful body language of both thumper and thumpee. From Dave Shelton’s Good Dog Bad Dog, published by The DFC Library)

From that first adventure we dash headlong into The Golden Bone Of Alexandria, a deliberately silly mystery where we get to follow the pair as they attempt to recover the fabled solid gold bone that Alexander The Great had made for his beloved, if forgetful companion. Along the way we get to meet Metropolis’ smallest Mr Big of the crime world; Wah Wah Johnson, a Chihuahua with a ridiculous number of muscle bound henchmen. Again, Shelton fills the pages with some briliantly funny characters.

And the final story really plays to Detective McBoo’s favourite thing – The Dogs’ Dinner, where a love of food and a nose for crime all help solve the kidnap of famed chef Anton Le Boof. By this third chapter Shelton obviously had his characters down just right and every single gag he attempts to pull off works ever so well. It’s a really funny ending to a very funny book.

(Again with the great facial expressions to make great visual gags, from Dave Shelton’s Good Dog Bad Dog, published by The DFC Library)

Shelton’s artwork throughout is masterful, brilliantly controlled and perfectly paced to lay out every gag just right to get the most laughs. but most of all, I found myself really enjoying the great comedy timing and some of the really funny reaction shots – McBoo’s disinterested face when poleaxing the thief, the thief’s own wonderful aside to the reader, or that great pause in the panels above when McBoo realises he’s not going to be fed this time. Throughout Good Dog, Bad Dog I kept noticing panel after panel I could have grabbed to illustrate just how good Shelton’s comedy timing is. But that’s something I’m hoping you’ll be finding out for yourselves.

All in all, Good Dog, Bad Dog works really well, it’s very funny, and the adventures are just right, always playing up the comedy, pacing everything perfectly, with Shelton’s artwork a great example of how to tell careful, controlled comedy – it’s a really fun book and well worth being the very first in the DFC Library.

Good Dog, Bad Dog is out today – March 4th.