Here it is. My personal top ten. As always, this is based on what I read and my extremely subjective taste. I don't know if I could lay out my thought process in ordering these books as it's some unknown combination of a sense of what is objectively good (if such a thing exists) and just what I liked the most. So, let's count them down...
10. Wednesday Comics by John Arcudi, Brian Azzarello, Kyle Baker, Eddie Berganza, Dave Bullock, Kurt Busiek, Ben Caldwell, Dan DiDio, Brenden Fletcher, Neil Gaiman, Dave Gibbons, Vinton Heuck, Karl Kerschl, Adam Kubert, Jimmy Palmiotti, Paul Pope, Walter Simonson, Michael Allred, Lee Bermejo, Amanda Conner, Sean Galloway, Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez, Joe Kubert, Kevin Nowlan, Joe Quinones, Eduardo Risso, Ryan Sook, and Brian Stelfreeze. If there were an award for project that I was most excited about in 2009,
Wednesday Comics would get it. A newspaper-style anthology featuring a pretty great cross-section of the styles and voices in mainstream superhero comics. It also provided
Tim and I our largest Splash Page audience to date. Originally, this was higher on my list, but it was a rather mixed project. There were a few great strips, a lot of good/mediocre ones, and a few outright bad ones. It still bothers me that they chose to do fifteen 12-part serials rather than mix it up a bit more with one-off strips or half-page stuff. It makes the top ten on the strength of its ambition and four strips: Pope's "Strange Adventures," Azzarello and Risso's "Batman," Palmiotti and Conner's "Supergirl," and the wonderfully surprising break-out of the book, Kerschl and Fletcher's "Flash."
9. The Boys by Garth Ennis, Darick Robertson, Carlos Ezquerra, John McCrea, and Keith Burns. Yes, this includes
Herogasm, which may seem unfair, but it's my list and I'm including it. This year was a bit of return to form for
The Boys, partly because of the inclusion of
Herogasm in the schedule. There was the absurd slapstick comedy and the serious drama with everything in between. The conclusion to "We Gotta Go Now" was stunning in how it undercut expectations while still being completely satisfying.
Herogasm was a little long, but had some good jokes and the essential issue wherein we learned what happened in the White House on September 11, 2001 in this world. The fight against the 'Avengers' was some solid work, culminating in a fight against 'Nazi Superman' that was far better and clever than it had any right to be. And, there were the recent string of origin issues that also mixed tones well. Throughout, Ennis worked with a stable of talented artists, many of whom are friends/collaborators he's worked with often. Now, I do wish that Robertson drew every issue of the comic, they did manage to find good fill-ins. Passing the halfway mark, this series continues to both prove itself as exactly what people think it is (mocking superheroes in obvious, immature ways), and doing more than that with some good character work and presenting a larger unifying story that is interesting and engrossing. This book is the first comic I read each month (literally since it comes out on the first Wednesday of the month like clockwork) because it doesn't disappoint.
8. Dark Reign: Zodiac by Joe Casey and Nathan Fox. At three issues, this was a compact little ball of energy. Nathan Fox's art is dynamic and delivered a view of the Marvel universe that seemed more suited to the
Strange Tales anthology than a motherfucking Dark Reign mini-series. Joe Casey wrote his most compelling and interesting portrait of villainy of the year in the new Zodiac. This guy kicked the shit out of Johnny Storm, pulled a fast one on Norman Osborn, and set loose a giant robot just so he could steal something. And send a message. Writers, when discussing the likes of Magneto and Dr. Doom, like to go on about how no one sees themself as evil. "No one would
really call it the 'Brotherhood of
Evil Mutants,'" they say, but Joe Casey knows different. He knows that there are many who glorify in being the bad guy, who enjoy breaking rules, and going against the norm. Supervillains are the counterculture in the superhero comics... or, can be at least. Hopefully, we'll see more of the new Zodiac (though I doubt it...
Last Defenders anyone...?)
7. Irredeemable by Mark Waid and Peter Krause. I'm kind of surprised that this series made this list. I wouldn't have thought it likely when it first began. After all 'Superman turns bad' is interesting enough that I'll give it a look for a lark (I appreciate some good twisting of superhero conventions) and maybe keep up with it if it's entertaining, which is all this series was initially. There was something a little more appealing about it than most books like this because I know just how much Mark Waid loves Superman, so his playing with that mythos and twisting it into something darker had an odd satisfaction that I didn't expect. And, then, somewhere around issue five or six (maybe as early as four), the book got really good. It wasn't so much about Superman turning evil and Waid creating analogues/variants of characters we know, it was a series about how we build people up only to tear them down. The joke about this book is that the Plutonian turned because people called him names and made fun of him behind his back, but there's truth in that. How long would you last if you devoted your life to protecting people and, in return, they called you a 'faggot?' You saved their life and they threatened to sue you for assault or property damage? How long could you last when you saved the world dozens (possibly hundreds) of times and one mistake would take all of that away? We're used to reading superhero comics where heroes like Spider-Man encounter negative public reactions and take it in stride, but how many people would really be able to stand that day in, day out? It's a book about how we love to build people up only to tear them down... it's a sad book that's far more than 'Superman turned bad.' And Peter Krause is going to be drawing a franchise book within the next five years. Guaranteed.
6. No Hero by Warren Ellis and Juan Jose Ryp. This comic makes the list based on the end of issue six. It ranks this high on the list based on the general quality of the series. I normally don't reward a single moment like that, but, goddamn, the end of issue six was one of the most audacious, shocking, and brilliant scenes I've ever read in a superhero comic. Sure,
my ramblings on it back in July may seem like the words of a self-deprived idiot, but I stand by them.
No Hero #6 is a critique of the superhero fan and of the entire genre... in the form of a horrific page of brutal violence. Like
Black Summer before it,
No Hero also explores the idea of superhumans changing the world and, in this case, they succeeded. The end of the series has the Front Line taken apart, killed, destroyed by a man sent by the collective governments of the world who are sick of being dictated to... and the world falls apart as a result. Democracy was a shame and the world went on just fine. It's an indictment of
The Authority, of trying to change the world when you don't understand how it actually works. People sometimes talk about the Illuminati or Free Masons or some other tiny group of people who really run the world and, usually, they also say that, if given the chance, they'd get rid of them assuming it would be the right thing to do, that it would make the world a better place... but it probably wouldn't, at least not in the short term and maybe not in the long term either.
No Hero is a vicious, mean, angry comic and I really enjoyed it. (Fuck, I am doing a shitty job of discussing art... Juan Jose Ryp does great work on this series. His pictures are beautiful and that makes the violence more unsettling. They look like Hollywood blockbusters and they're drawing gonzo horror...)
5. Parker: The Hunter by Darwyn Cooke. I've always liked Darwyn Cooke's art (or, well, I liked it since I first encountered it), but have never been a fan of his writing. I've also yet to read any of Richard Stark's "Parker" novels (though I have read
361 by Donald Westlake... I liked it). So, I guess
Parker: The Hunter gets the best of both worlds on a writing front: Cooke didn't write it and I don't know how it compares to the original. I like it more than
Payback (the director's cut, of course -- I haven't seen the theatrical version) if that means anything. Cooke begins this book so well. The opening pages where Parker walks into Manhattan and gets himself set up are amazing. Strong, confident visual storytelling... maybe I like it because it relies on Cooke's art so heavily. He holds off on showing Parker's face to us and, when he does, it's perfect. Cooke is good at making each character look like their defining characteristics and his Parker looks like a hard motherfucking guy. The use of fuzzy art/Benday dots for the flashbacks is something I haven't seen in a book that only uses one colour... which gives it a subtle feeling of memory. The lack of hard panel borders makes each panel feel like a paragraph, bridging that gap with the prose where there's separation, but not a complete one necessarily. I don't know who to give credit to really when it comes to the writing since this is an adaptation, but I absolutely loved reading this book, which is all that really matters, right?
4. Seaguy: Slaves of Mickey Eye by Grant Morrison and Cameron Stewart. No Hero was partly about the danger in changing the world, while
Seaguy: Slaves of Mickey Eye is partly about the futility of changing the world. Every rebel and revolutionary that has succeeded (and many who have failed) has been absorbed into the status quo. Rebel and win, and you make yourself the new target to rebel against. You can't beat authority, you can only become it. It's a little depressing, but that's superhero comics for you since Morrison is talking about superhero comics in particular. You can try and change them, but you can't. It all eventually settles back to where it was and you'll only make yourself angry and tired in fighting it.
Slaves of Mickey Eye is kind of depressing like that as Seaguy goes through that teenage rebellion phase and comes out the other side with an offer to replace the adult formerly in charge and the acquisition of the woman he loves. There's a lot of inside baseball going on in
Seaguy, particularly how it relates to Morrison's work on
New X-Men, but it's also a compelling story in its own right. There's a lot of beauty and poetry in his odd ideas as he crafts a world all its own, building on elements from the first mini-series. Cameron Stewart continues to evolve and improve as an artist, creating the visual look of a fictional world. His style is a minimalist sort where things are rooted in realism, they're just transformed into drawings... I guess? I really do love the end of this story... call me a sucker, but Seaguy getting the girl? That's some good stuff. Hopefully, 2010 will bring us
Seaguy: The Eternal and wrap-up this story.
3. Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli. Yes, it only makes it to number three. I am a horrible critic. It only makes it to number three because I only read it two days ago and it didn't knock me on my ass so much as to demand the first spot. Maybe if I had more time to live with it, to reread it, and consider its various aspects, it would rank higher. But I don't, so it doesn't. Still, number three is pretty good. Only two books get higher praise/accolades -- and I don't think Mr. Mazzucchelli is lacking in those, so I'm sure he would forgive me in this case. It's hard to accurately judge this work since my reading of it was coloured by everything I heard/read about it. "It's a masterpiece," "It's too sterile and focused on technique," "The character work is great, you're crazy!" and so on... I loved it. I didn't find it sterile, but I also didn't find the character work amazing. It hit me on emotional levels and I also appreciated the technical acumen that was on display. The technical stuff didn't wow me as much as others, but, then again, maybe the standards were raised a little bit too high. What really got me was the page where the relationship between Asterios and Hana falls apart. Her words just punched me in the gut as, like many of you, I was expecting the influence of Willy Chimera to be different than that... it was unexpected and struck me as the most 'real' aspect of the book. It's hard for me to truly love a work of fiction without being emotionally invested in it in some way and
Asterios Polyp did that. As for the rest... it a gorgeous and inventive book. Nothing Mazzucchelli did knocked me on my ass, but that sort of stuff tends to come with rereads... you need to get the plot out of the way before you can see past it in a sense. Really, though, this book deserves all of the praise it's received so far and I've added my contribution now.
2. Scalped by Jason Aaron, RM Guera, Davide Furnò, and Francesco Francavilla. I rarely feel good after reading
Scalped. This book just makes me feel bad. How can it not? Every character in this book seems to make bad choices on purpose or is forced to make them based on previous bad ones. It's a spiral downward for all of them where attempting to climb back out usually results in falling further down... And it's all done with such style, confidence, and skill. Jason Aaron writes his ass off in this book, giving each character complex and realistic motivations, never taking the easy way out, and never failing to provide at least one 'Why the fuck are you doing that?' moment per issue. The pacing is relatively slow, but Aaron knows how to pick things up for effect like he has in recent issues. I don't just leave each issue feeling bad, I enter each with a sense of dread. I don't know what Aaron will do to a character... and it's easy to worry when killing a character can be seen as being kind to said character. This year, a series of spotlight issues shed light on a lot of character motivations and pasts before gearing up for "The Gnawing," a story that seems determined to bring the whole thing down. I wouldn't put it past Aaron to kill off all of the main characters and start anew since he's said the reservation is the real main character. While Rm Guera is the main artist on the book, fill-ins have been required, and they were great. All three artists brought rough, dirty styles to the book in their own way. Because of the content, realism is a must, but Guera's realism is a distorted one, one that reveals an inner realism of the characters a lot of the time (does that even make sense?). His characters are ugly and flawed on the outside, mirroring the inside. But, he also creates visual drama with the best of them, Red Crow being one of the most visually powerful and stunning characters in recent memory... that guy looks bigger, badder, and scarier than most supervillains... Sure, I dread each issue of
Scalped, but that's only because I love reading it and am so invested in it that I don't want anything bad to happen to any of the characters. Even though that possibility (and reality) is one of the reasons I love it. It's a little complex, I admit.
1. Young Liars by David Lapham. Does this surprise anyone really? In 2009,
Young Liars received the following star ratings in reviews from myself: 4, 4.5 (twice), and 5 (twice). This book was, easily, my favourite comic of 2009. The reality-changing adventures of Danny Noonan and company spoke to me in a way that not many pieces of fiction do. I'm not sure I can really explain it fully why I so loved this comic. But I'll try, of course.
I loved that it was never afraid to be whatever it wanted to be. It was the vision of a singular creative voice and it changed according to that voice. The reality of the book was upturned constantly based, seemingly, on the whims of David Lapham. Each issue was a surprise. Where you were on page one wasn't where you'd be on page twenty-two... or maybe it would be. Who knows? Its relation to music plays a role here as Lapham reminded me often of my favourite musicians (Ryan Adams, Lou Reed, Neil Young) and their willingness to do whatever suits them at the moment. If making a commercial failure is where you're at, then you do it. It's all about creating art that represents who you are at that moment.
Young Liars did that on a monthly basis within the confines of a serial narrative... and it worked. What the fuck?
Issue sixteen was a special treat for me as it was a 'double song' in comic form. I've been obsessed with the idea of capturing the feeling of music in narrative fiction for years, including writing something that accurately captures the 'double song.' (A double song being two songs in one... like "No Suguar Tonight/New Mother Nature" by the Guess Who... my favourite example of that type of song...) Lapham structured the sixteenth issue of
Young Liars like a double song, using the narrative voice and page layouts to separate the two halves and, merging them at the end to bring them together. And he does it effortlessly and in a way where you don't realise what he's doing unless you're looking for it. It's easy to see why I'd grow so attached a comic that was seemingly directed at me...
The final issue of
Young Liars was amazing. It began with a rant about the commercial failure of the book and those who dismissed it as too weird or difficult. It's the sort of rant every creator wants to include in the final issue of a cancelled book, but not many do. From there, it wrapped everything up, while still making a statement about Lapham as a creator, putting the book and his attachment to it into perspective. The end is both sad and hopeful. There's also one page that stops me dead every time. You know which one.
I don't know if I can properly tell you why
Young Liars is my favourite comic of 2009 other than by saying that it is. It's not objectively better than some of the other books on the list, but it is subjectively superior to each of them. It gets the top spot for reasons too personal for me to explain -- or really understand myself. And, like I said, that probably doesn't surprise too many of you.
Bring on 2010.
