LUDIC LOG

I went out and bought comic books today, which is the nice thing about having an income. Now I'm going to waste the valuable time of every conceiveable reader of this space by writing about them, which is the nice thing about having a web log.

Powers collection #2: "Roleplay" (story by Brian Michael Bendis; art by Mike Oeming). The second "Powers" collection doesn't have the crushingly awesome force of the first. It lacks the monster punch of the big revelation in "Who Killed Retro Girl"; the dialogue doesn't have the incredible near-Mametian snap as the first collection, at least not in a sustained way (although it has some terrific moments, particularly in an excellent scene late in the book between two aggressive attorneys); and it's a bit too short to completely involve the reader in the mystery the way Book 1 did. On the other hand, it's still head and shoulders above most monthlies. Oeming's artwork progresses by leaps and bounds; it's moved from a neo-animation style to a very sleek noirish feel that recalls not only Bendis' own pencils, but the "Sin City" work of Frank Miller. Bendis himself does a nice job of fleshing out the "Powers" world without getting too tedious, and most importantly, he really gives some teeth to the character of Deena Pilgrim. Never a traditional comic bimbo with nothing to say, he does a nice job of filling her out even further -- damned if, by the start of the third story arc, she's not just as secretive, dangerous and vaguely sinister as lantern-jawed Christian Walker himself. Best of all, there's an atom bomb of a plot twist that leaves the reader impatient for the new story arc.

The Sandman collection #9: "Worlds' End" (story by Neil Gaiman; art by divers hands). I would say you've reached some sort of nadir when Stephen King is wringing out the intro to your book. But that's just me. I really haven't been as blown away by the Sandman series as has almost every other comics fan in the universe; it seems to be a whole lot of neat ideas with no particular idea of where to go. It does not cohere, as we lit-crit types like to say to make ourselves sound smart. The art tends to reflect this directionless, premise-rich/application-poor quality: the idea of having different pencilers tackle each issue, thus lending a whole different stylistic feel to the various manifestations of the character, is a very neat idea. But in practical terms, one runs into the problem that, well, a lot of the pencillers aren't very good. For every Mike Allred and Steve Leialoha, there's a Bryan Talbot or a Shea Anton Pensa. The whole plot of Worlds' End -- a sort of apocalyptic Canterbury Tales, with multidimensional travelers sharing their stories while waiting for a "reality storm" to pass -- is likewise nifty, until you realize it isn't really going anywhere and that the whole Dream & Company football isn't being moved any closer to the goal line. That said, there's some fine ideas, some good storytelling (the latest appearance of Hob Gadling, while typically bereft of a point, is ensconced in an excellent sea adventure), and the retelling of the Prez Rickard story as a latter-day Christ legend is absolutely fantastic.

Transmetropolitan collection #6: "Gouge Away" (story by Warren Ellis; art by Darick Robertson). First off, Jaime Hernandez seems to be doing the covers for Transmetropolitan these days, and that ain't bad no way, nohow. Darick Robertson's art is really starting to grow on me, too, after an initial period in which it was a big distraction. The book starts out on the right track; the initial story, featuring Spider Jerusalem's horror at being commodified and pop-culturalized, is enjoyable, vicious and hilarious, despite featuring guest art by the wretched Frank Quitely. However, it goes off the rails quite a bit. There's plenty of enjoyable stuff, but the cliffhanger plot of the last collection -- the new president of the US dedicating his entire powers of office to fucking Spider with a porcupine rubber -- seems to be largely forgotten, and Spider is far too in command here. There's no sense of threat or menace or even despair, and without a palpable menace, it's just so much hero-worship. Ellis' anti-American screeds are all right in small doses, but without the presence of villainy or the fascination with future culture that marked earlier collections, the jokes about the president jacking off into the flag get sort of tired sort of quickly. Ellis does, at least, lay the groundwork for a major conditional change in the next collection, so hopefully he can turn things around.

King David (story & art by Kyle Baker). Kyle Baker's latest, after the underrated You Are Here and the breathtaking I Die at Midnight, is a pretty unexpected turn: it's a fairly accurate retelling of the biblical legend of David. It's pretty much a mixed bag coming on the heels of so many winners, but given how good Baker has been for so long, I'm willing to allow him something of a misfire. And it's hard, really, to call this a misfire: the art is absolutely tremendous, for one thing. Baker has a keener grasp on color and movement than anyone in the medium, his computer experimentation continues to pay dividends, and his style has more pop and animation than anyone with the possible exception of Jeff Smith. While much of the humor here is schticky, it's pretty good schtick as far as it goes. And he picks the perfect place to end the book, imparting a moral lesson without getting too, well, biblical about it. On the other hand, it's a bit busy, being a lot easier to understand if you have a Bible within reach, and I wish (of course, because of my own particular prejudices) that it was a lot meaner and went for the jugular (figuratively; there's plenty of literal throat-slitting in the book). It's probably the worst book he's done, but Kyle Baker is a man of such prodigious talent that his worst is still a much better read than most comic artists' best.