Saturday, August 30, 2008

The Splash Page 29: Final Crisis: Superman Beyond #1

In this week's Splash Page, Tim Callahan and I continue our quest to discuss every Grant Morrison-penned Final Crisis comic. Sure, there are lots of other tie-in comics for that event, but we don't care about them, because they suck. Well, I don't care. Tim is actually buying, like, all of them, because he loves comics than much more than I do. Really, Geoff Johns comics. I don't really like those, but Tim seems to really like them, especially ones involving the Legion of Superheroes. Tim loves the Legion of Superheroes. He edited a book of essays about it. I haven't read the book, but I'm sure it's pretty good because Tim's first book was a good read. His first book was all about Grant Morrison and that's who wrote the comic book we discuss this week, because we both love Grant Morrison. Unlike that Geoff Johns.

Oh, and what do we think about 3-D comics? Find out in... THE SPLASH PAGE!!!

Friday, August 29, 2008

Advance Reviews (Not Really): Marvel 1985 #4 and Kick-Ass #4

[Note: No "Book of the Week" this week as the only book I got and wanted to discuss in detail is Final Crisis: Superman Beyond #1 and I'm doing a Splash Page on that with Tim this week. So, you get a couple of reviews instead.]

So, I recently received a couple of Mark Millar comics in my e-mail. I got Marvel 1985 #4 last week and Kick-Ass #4 this week. Since both arrived on the day they came out instores, I didn't rush to read them and write up reviews like I would have had they arrived earlier. And, thankfully, it works out that I can look at them both together right now since there are some similarities in the books.

This was my first issue of Marvel 1985, a series Tim Callahan has told me is worth checking out, but I think I followed along pretty well: villains from Marvel comics have showed up in the real world, try to kill a dad and his kid, fight the army and then said kid finds the "doorway" they've come through and enters in the hopes of bringing some heroes back to stop the villains. I don't really know what happened in the first three issues, but... really, it's taken this long to get to this point? This plot seems more suited to a third or, ideally, second issue of this sort of book. Maybe lots of very, very, very important things happened in the first three issues, but... I doubt it.

It's not a bad comic, but it moves at a very brisk pace and doesn't really give us much to hold onto. The only really interesting thing I noticed was how violent the villains are in "our world" compared to how they act in comic books of the time. Granted, 1985 was a turning point in comics regarding "realism" and violence, but the core Marvel comics weren't anywhere near this brutal. Why the villains are so much worse is an interesting question and the only reason I'd keep reading this series.

Well, and Tommy Lee Edwards's art. It's gorgeous and very evocative... but, I've always enjoyed sketchy, dark, suggestive art like this. The villains blend into the world well (which may or may not be a good thing, I suppose) and he handles "real people" very well. I also like that his layouts are very basic, which I think works with the setting--that it would capture a more cinematic approach than radical page layouts more like comic book worlds.

As for Kick-Ass, I've missed issue two, but read the rest of the series and this issue... I'm not so sure about it. Most of the issue is spent with our hero (whose name I honestly can't remember) freaked out by the brutal murders of the guys who were going to kill him at the end of last issue. It seems that there are a couple of new heroes patrolling the streets and they use Punisher-esque tactics. As a result, "Kick-Ass" quits. There's not much more to this issue beyond a few small little moments with his dad, friends and the girl-he's-got-a-crush-on-who-thinks-he's-gay.

John Romita, Jr.'s art is very good. He's especially adept at making Kick-Ass and "Hit-Girl" look young and small. That's pretty key to the absurdism of the characters and he does it well.

Both books explore the concept of superheroes and realism--and what if they were in our world. In Marvel 1985, comic book characters invade, while in Kick-Ass, they inspire people to be like them. What I'm left trying to figure out is what Mark Millar is trying to say except that being a superhero is terrifying for both those who put on the costume and those around the hero. Kick-Ass is just a punk kid who has no idea what he's doing, while the villains in Marvel 1985 are monstrous and evoke nothing but terror. Each book presents a different side to the situation, but neither really says anything new nor gives much depth.

Kick-Ass comes closest here, but I find myself scoffing at the idiocy of the main character: he's 130 pounds soaking wet and he's surprised that he's a pretty shitty superhero? Of course doing that job is tough and scary! He wouldn't be able to handle a regular high school bully and he wants to take on drug dealers and the mafia--he's a moron. Instead of rooting for him, I roll my eyes.

Marvel 1985 also doesn't provide much depth to the concept of villains invading the real world. They run amok and kill people... that about sums it up.

What's at the heart of each is the comic book fan as somehow more knowledgeable or heroic than someone who didn't grow up reading comics. In both books, it's comic book fans that step up and stand up against the respective villains. Is that Millar's message--that comic books instill heroism? If so, I have to question his means as the "hero" in Kick-Ass is clearly a moron; in 1985, the child hero is at least somewhat heroic in that stupid sort of way--he doesn't have any other options and acts. But, I must wonder: is his motivation simply to stop the villains to enter the comic book world he's longed to enter since he first began reading comics? Are these characters attempting to be heroes or to merely live out their fantasies in reckless and ill-conceived manners? The combination of the real world and escapist fiction is disturbing and acts more as a commentary on those who would take it too seriously.

Perhaps, that's the real message: they're just comic books, kids. Sadly, these aren't very good ones.

New reviews

My review of Daddy's Girl by Debbie Drechsler just went live on Playback STL, so you can read it here.

And I don't recall if I posted my Life Sucks review or not. If I did, sorry for repeating myself. If I didn't, you can read it at this link.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

I Bought Comics: Fourth Week of August 2008

[I like to talk about comics, but I don't always like to make sense while I do it. This is what happens sometimes. These are reviews in the abstract, perhaps technical sense. Oh, and Los Manlicious by Hawksley Workman is a great fucking album. It came out yesterday here in Canada after being a Europe-only release for the past few months, which I found odd since Workman is Canadian... and released an album back in January (Between the Beautifuls). Thankfully, he saw the light and got it released in Canada, too. I don't know about the US, though. Perhaps no Hawksley for you. A shame. Oh... comics now.]

Final Crisis: Superman Beyond #1

No just 3D, but 4D! Grant Morrison has read all of the complaints about the first issue of Final Crisis and has spit in your idiot eyes! CompressedComics! It all happens between the panels of Final Crisis #3, but the second issue doesn't come out until December at least? What? "Captain Adam"? Ha! The first man... the first superman... Captain Atom... Dr. Manhattan... but on drugs! Ignore every Ultraman appearance post-Earth 2, please. A return to Limbo from Animal Man... I was expecting the baldy Scot to make an appearance, but maybe in part two... "Grant Morrison, may I introduce you to Superman?" Oh ho ho! I'm not a fan of the 3D glasses, they don't add much... add a dimension, subtract all but two colours? No thank you, sir--no thank you. I refuse to read any non-Morrison-penned Final Crisis books, by the way... best to view this as Final Crisis #4 almost... definitely reminds me of "Rock of Ages"... is this really a quest for the Worlogog? What ever happened to that, by the way?

Gravel #4

Back on schedule with a big fight between Gravel and ten magicians... Jesus, this guy can kill. One of the benefits of having vague magical abilities, I suppose, is that he can always win. I'm convinced that this story will end in tears for young William Gravel. He's never really been challenged... has he? Looks like Oscar Jiminez is the new permanent artist, which doesn't bother me much. I'm still not sold on his Gravel, but the rest of the art is good. His Gravel is too skinny, too old... but better than last issue... or I'm getting used to it... hmm... If you want some witty lines and lots of fucked up death, this is your book.

The ImMortal Iron Fist #18

The second Swierczynski-penned issue and it's still pretty decent. So, Orson Randall wasn't a weak little junkie? And Danny Rand lives to die another day. It's interesting writing... Travel Foreman's art still does nothing for me as it doesn't look the same panel-to-panel. I'm sticking with this book--at least until the end of this arc. Swierczynski has me for now, though... hopefully it turns out better than his Cable...

The Mighty Avengers #17 & The New Avengers #44

Okay, The Mighty Avengers issue was interesting. When I first heard that it was about the replacement of Henry Pym, I was like "Um, didn't that already happen?" but Bendis gives an interesting story and hints at some deeper complexities to the Skrull invasion. The first of these issues in a while that seemed worth it. The New Avengers issue was alright, but nothing too special. Reed Richards masterminded the "cloaking" technique... except not really... interesting. Like many of these issues, the core idea is cool, but it fails to sustain an entire comic. These issues would be better if Bendis did two 11-page stories in each, I think. Only a small number have seemed worth an entire issue. But, I'm looking forward to the "House of M" issue of New and the Howlin' Commandos issue of Mighty next month. Seriously, there's no way I'm calling them the "Secret Warriors" when a far superior and SENSICAL name just sits there not getting used for reasons beyond comprehension.

***

Come back Friday as I discuss one of these comics in more depth. And if you want more depth on one of them, just ask... maybe I'll listen.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Raymond Chandler's Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story: Watchmen

[Continuing my series of posts where I take Raymond Chandler's "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story" and apply said notes to a comic book mystery story. New posts on Sundays.]

I reread Watchmen this week for the Splash Page, so why not use it here, too? I'm going to guess right off that I won't find that many problems with Chandler and Moore matching up, because while I can probably find a few loopholes in the mystery plot, Moore more than makes up for that with style and personality, which Chandler is all about. That, and it's Watchmen. You know how most things that are universally loved don't deserve it, but a few things do? Yeah, this is one of them. It's not perfect, but it's damn good. Do people say that enough? "Watchmen is damn good." Because it is and they should.

But, for the two of you who read this blog and haven't read Watchmen yet (and I hope I'm overestimating there), let me clue you in on the mystery: Edward Blake aka the Comedian has been killed. Someone broke into his apartment, beat him up and threw him through a, I'm guessing, plexi-glass window. Our detective is Rorschach, an urgan vigilante. He thinks it could be someone targetting "superheroes." This theory seems confirmed when Dr. Manhattan is driven off-world, someone tries to kill Adrian Veidt (formerly known as Ozymandias), and Rorschach himself is framed for murder. Ultimately, Rorschach and Nite Owl discover that Veidt is actually behind the whole thing. Blake discovered Veidt's plot to save the world by ending the Cold War, so Veidt killed him before he could tell someone. Dr. Manhattan was taken out of the equation as part of the plan, while framing Rorschach was a means of preventing his snooping, while Veidt's own assassination attempt was to make Rorschach's theory make more sense and make sure he wasn't a suspect.

Now, let's introduce Mr. Moore to Mr. Chandler...

Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story (Revised April 18, 1948)

1. It must be credibly motivated, both as to the original situation and the denouement; it must consist of the plausible actions of plausible people in plausible circumstances, it being remembered that plausibility is largely a matter of style. This requirement rules out most trick endings and a great many "closed circle" stories in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody. It also rules out such elaborate mises-en-scene as Christie's Murder in a Calais Coach, where the whole setup for the crime requires such a fluky set of happenings that it could never seem real.

Veidt wants to save the world and is afraid that Blake will expose his plot. He has good reason to fear this as Blake got drunk, broke into an old enemy, Moloch's house and blathered on like an insane man. While Blake may not have taken it further, he was an unknown and Veidt hates unknowns. Veidt's plot was years... a decade in the making and would save the world from nuclear war--I'd say the motivation works.

2. It must be technically sound as to the methods of murder and detection. No fantastic poisons or improper effects from poison such as death from nonfatal doses, etc. No use of silencers on revolvers (they won't work) or snakes climbing bellropes ("The Speckled Band"). Such things at once destroy the foundation of the story. If the detective is a trained policeman, he must act like one, and have the mental and physical equipment that go with the job. If he is a private investigator or amateur, he must at least know enough about police methods not to make an ass of himself. When a policeman is made out to be a fool, as he always was on the Sherlock Holmes stories, this not only depreciates the accomplishment of the detective but it makes the reader doubt the author's knowledge of his own field. Conan Doyle and Poe were primitives in this art and stand in relation to the best modern writers as Giotto does to da Vinci. They did things which are no longer permissible and exposed ignorances that are no longer tolerated. Also, police art, itself, was rudimentary in their time. "The Purloined Letter" would not fool a modern cop for four minutes. Conan Doyle showed no knowledge whatever of the organization of Scotland Yard's men. Christie commits the same stupidities in our time, but that doesn't make them right. Contrast Austin Freeman, who wrote a story about a forged fingerprint ten years before police method realized such things could be done.

Veidt breaks into Blake's apartment and beats him with his bare hands, which he knows how to do through his training and a previous encounter with Blake years previous. The method of Blake's murder is very simple.

The detective here is Rorschach and his methods are somewhat sound. They've been honed over the years as an urban vigilante. At first, he doesn't know that Blake is the Comedian, but discovers that quickly thanks to a keen eye. After that, he thinks of the most likely suspects--but he's paranoid and overthinks the possibilities a little and settles on a "mask killer" plot. Since he warns other vigilantes of the possibility, it actually allows Veidt to nurture it and avoid suspicion. Rorschach's flaws make solving the case not only more difficult because he's on the wrong track, but also prompts Veidt to have him imprisoned. The framing of Rorschach is partly because he visited Moloch, and Moloch informed him about Blake's visit. However, when there are more instances of supposed "mask killer" activities, Rorschach's old ally, Nite Owl breaks him out of prison with the help of the Silk Spectre. And, together, Rorschach and Nite Owl deduce that Veidt is behind the whole thing after going to his office to warn him. By interrogating various "criminals" at bars, they discover that Pyramid Deliveries is behind many of the activities of late and Nite Owl finds out that Veidt owns Pyramid Deliveries by hacking his computers. When they confront Veidt, he tells them of his entire plot.

3. It must be honest with the reader. This is always said, but the implications are not realized. Important facts not only must not be concealed, they must not be distorted by false emphasis. Unimportant facts must not be projected in such a way as to make them portentous. (This creation of red herrings and false menace out of trick camera work and mood shots if the typical Hollywood mystery picture cheat.) Inferences from the facts are the detective's stock in trade; but he should disclose enough to keep the reader's mind working. It is arguable, although not certain, that inferences arising from special knowledge (e.g., Dr. Thorndyke) are a bit of a cheat, because the basic theory of all good mystery writing is that at some stage not too late in the story the reader did have the materials to solve the problem. If specal scientific knowledge was necessary to interpret the facts, the reader did not have the solution unless he had the special knowledge. It may have been Austin Freeman's feeling about this that led him to the invention of the inverted detective story, in which the reader knows the solution from the beginning and takes his pleasure from watching the detective trace it out a step at a time.

Specific knowledge isn't necessary here. If the reader is thrown off, it is because of Rorschach's focus on a "mask killer" and Veidt's purposeful misdirection.

4. It must be realistic as to character, setting, and atmosphere. It must be about real people in the real world. Very few mystery writers have any talent for character work, but that doesn't mean it is not necessary. It makes the difference between the story you reread and remember and the one you skim through and almost instantly forget. Those like Valentine Williams who say the problem overrides everything are merely trying to cover up their own inability to create character.

While it does involve many fantastic elements, Watchmen is realistic in character, setting and atmosphere. The character work is fantastic and definitely makes you want to read it several times.

5. It must have a sound story value apart from the mystery element; i.e., the investigation itself must be an adventure worth reading.

The mystery element is what begins the story, but it becomes much more than that. It's a reflection on the Cold War, superheroes, morality... and many, many other things. The structure of alternating issues at first between plot and character really helps this as does the focus on non-vigilante characters like Bernie the newsvendor or Rorschach's psychiatrist in prison.

6. To achieve this it must have some form of suspense, even if only intellectual. This does not mean menace and especially it does not mean that the detective must be menaced by grave personal danger. This last is a trend and like all trends will exhaust itself by overimitation. Nor need the reader be kept hanging on the edge of his chair. The overplotted story can be dull too; too much shock may result in numbness to shock. But there must be conflict, physical, ethical or emotional, and there must be some element of danger in the broadest sense of the word.

There is a constant feel of uneasiness, mostly because of the Cold War standoff between the US and Russia. It's not just the main characters threatened, but the entire world. As well, relationships begin and die, characters are killed or imprisoned or attacked. It's not a constant onslaught of terror, but there is a continual feeling of suspense throughout the story. It does feel a little overplotted at times, but that is a trademark of Moore's work. In that regard, this is one of the most energetic pieces Moore has ever done. It was written early enough in his career that it lacks energy because he's trying too hard.

7. It must have color, lift, and a reasonable amount of dash. It takes an awful lot of technical adroitness to compensate for a dull style, although it has been done, especially in England.

Oh, it has these, both in the writing and art.

8. It must have enough essential simplicity to be explained easily when the time comes. (This is possibly the most often violated of all the rules). The ideal denouement is one in which everything is revealed in a flash of action. This is rare because ideas that good are always rare. The explanation need not be very short (except on the screen), and often it cannot be short; but it must be interesting in itself, it must be something the reader is anxious to hear, and not a new story with a new set of characters, dragged in to justify an overcomplicated plot. Above all the explanation must not be merely a long-winded assembling of minute circumstances which no ordinary reader could possibly be expected to remember. To make the solution dependent on this is a kind of unfairness, since here again the reader did not have the solution within his grasp, in any practical sense. To expect him to remember a thousand trivialities and from them to select that three that are decisive is as unfair as to expect him to have a profound knowledge of chemistry, metallurgy, or the mating habits of the Patagonian anteater.

I think it has that simplicity: Veidt pushes the US and Russia to the brink before unifying them under the threat of something bigger--and, in doing so, must kill Edward Blake after he discovers the plot. It's more complicated than that, really, but it's also very simple.

9. It must baffle a reasonably intelligent reader. This opens up a very difficult question. Some of the best detective stories ever written (those of Austin Freeman, for example) seldom baffle an intelligent reader to the end. But the reader does not guess the complete solution and could not himself have made a logical demonstration of it. Since readers are of many minds, some will guess a cleverly hidden murder and some will be fooled by the most transparent plot. (Could the "Red-Headed League" ever really fool a modern reader?) It is not necessary or even possible to fool to the hilt the real aficionado of mystery fiction. A mystery story that consistently did that and was honest would be unintelligible to the average fan; he simply would not know what the story was all about. But there must be some important elements of the story that elude the most penetrating reader.

I can't say if this baffles an intelligent reader, but I'd guess it would. Edward Blake was killed so Adrian Veidt could save the world? The clues are all there, but until the solution is revealed, there's little chance a reader could assemble them correctly.

10. The solution must seem inevitable once revealed. This is the least often emphasized element of a good mystery, but it is one of the important elements of all fiction. It is not enough merely to fool or elude or sidestep the reader; you must make him feel that he ought not to have been fooled and that the fooling was honorable.

This is one of the hardest parts of a mystery and I'm not sure it happens here. The mystery makes sense and scenes that happened one way now suddenly happened another. But... inevitable... that's a tall order. A former enemy trying to eliminate the heroes as in Rorschach's "mask killer" plot would seem inevitable. Veidt's plot is necessary and logical, but not quite inevitable. Others may disagree, but that's how I see it.

11. It must not try to do everything at once. If it is a puzzle story operating in a rather cool, reasonable atmosphere, it cannot also be a violent adventure or a passionate romance. An atmosphere of terror destroys logical thinking; if the story is about the intricate psychological pressures that lead apparently ordinary people to commit murder, it cannot then switch to the cool analysis of the police investigator. The detective cannot be hero and menace at the same time; the murderer cannot be a tormented victim of circumstance and also a heavy.

Now, this is an element I'm torn on as I could see it going either way. This is a big story and it does a lot, but does it try to do too much? Is it too busy? I think it does a great job of combining types of stories by firmly attaching those types to specific characters. For Rorschach, it's a mystery; for Nite Owl, it's an adventure; for Veidt, it's a quest... and so on. But, is it too much, too unfocused? I'm honestly not sure. I think it works, but this could be interpretted by others differently. So, I'll leave this one up to others to decide.

12. It must punish the criminal in one way or another, not necessarily by operation of the law. Contrary to popular (and Johnston Office) belief, this requirement has nothing much to do with morality. It is a part of the logic of detection. If the detective fails to resolve the consequences of the crime, the story is an unresolved chord and leaves irritation behind it.

Veidt is punished at the end--by his own conscience and doubt. He's not sure if he did the right thing. He wants to believe that he did, but, as Dr. Manhattan points out, it never ends, so while Veidt may have stopped this one crisis, another will soon arise and his work will begin again. He's punished by the knowledge that he will never save the world no matter how crises he prevents.



Addenda

1. The perfect detective story cannot be written. The type of mind which can evolve the perfect problem is not the type of mind that can produce the artistic job of writing. It would be nice to have Dashiell Hammett and Austin Freeman in the same book, but it just isn't possible. Hammett couldn't have the plodding patience and Freeman couldn't have the verve for narrative. They don't go together. Even a fair compromise such as Dorothy Sayers is less satisfying than the two types taken separately.

This isn't the perfect detective story, really, because the motivation for the murder is logical, but is also so obtuse and outside of normal circumstances that it blindsides the reader and the detective. As a result, it's something different from a detective story, while still acting as one (if that makes sense).

2. The most effective way to conceal a simple mystery is behind another mystery. This is litrary legerdemain. You do not fool the reader by hiding clues or faking character [ala] Christie but by making him solve the wrong problem.

Veidt creates another mystery after Rorschach himself creates it. Veidt encourages and adds to the "mask killer" plot to distract from the truth, particularly by making himself the target of an assassination.

3. It has been said that "nobody cares about the corpse." This is bunk. It is throwing away a valuable element. It is like saying the murder of your aunt means no more to you than the murder of an unknown man in an unknown part of a city you never visited.

Do we care about Edward Blake? We learn a lot about him as the story progresses. At first, we know he's a costumed hero of some sort and that may get our sympathies quickly--but, then we learned he attempted to rape another hero, which makes him repulsive. By the end of the story, we've received a lot of information about him and his life from a lot of perspectives, so I think it's hard not to care about him on some level--even if it's just a level of familiarity. We know him well enough that we can't help but care a little.

4. Flip dialogue is not wit.

Amen, brother. Moore writes some good dialogue here.

5. A mystery serial does not make a good mystery novel. The "curtains" depend for their effect on your not having the next chapter to read at once. In book form these curtains give the effect of a false suspense and tend to be merely irritating. The magazines have begun to find that out.

While serialised, Watchmen was designed as a complete story told in twelve parts and, as a result, reads very well. As well, many issues have their own unique focus and narrative voice, which is both a positive and negative. It works as a serial in some spots, while giving a richer feel to the whole in others. Rarely are there obvious curtains of any kind, though.

6. Love interest nearly always weakens a mystery story because it creates a type of suspense that is antagonistic and not complementary to the detective's struggle to solve the problem. The kind of love interest that works is the one that complicates the problem by adding to the detective's troubles but which at the same time you instinctively feel will not survive the story. A really good detective never gets married. He would lose his detachment, and this detachment is part of his charm.

Rorschach loves no woman.

Nite Owl is essential to solving the mystery, but is not really a detective and his love interest helps, in a way, but also leads to his retirement.

7. The fact that love interest is played up in the big magazines and on the screen doesn't make it artistic. Women are supposed to be the target of magazine fiction and movies. The magazines are not interested in mystery writing as an art. They are not interested in any kind of writing as an art.

Um...

8. The hero of the mystery story is the detective. Everything hangs on his personality. If he hasn't one, you have very little. And you have very few really good mystery stories. Naturally.

Rorschach has personality. Find me someone who disagrees. I dare you.

9. The criminal cannot be the detective. This is an old rule and has once in a while been violated successfully, but it is sound as it ever was. For this reason: the detective by tradition and definition is the seeker of truth. He can't be that if he already knows the truth. There is an implied guarantee to the reader that the detective is on the level.

The criminal here is an ally of the detective, but isn't the detective.

10. The same remark applies to the story where the first-person narrator is the criminal. I should personally have to qualify this by saying that for me the first-person narration can always be accused of subtle dishonesty because of its appearance of candor and its ability to suppress the detective's ratiocination while giving a clear account of his words and acts. Which opens up the much larger question of what honesty really is in this context; is it not a matter of degree rather an absolute? I think it is and always will be. Regardless of the candor of the first-person narrative there comes a time when the detective has made up his mind and yet does not communicate this to the reader. He holds some of his thinking for the denouement or explanation. He tells the facts but not the reaction in his mind to those facts. Is this a permissible convention of deceit? It must be; otherwise the detective telling his own story could not have solved the problem in advance of the technical denouement. Once in a lifetime a story such as The Big Sleep holds almost nothing back; the denouement is an action which the reader meets as soon as the detective. The theorizing from that action follows immediately. There is only a momentary concealment of the fact that Marlowe loaded the gun with blanks when he gave it to Carmen down by the oil sump. But even this is tipped off to the reader when he says, "If she missed the can, which she was certain to do, she would probably hit the wheel. That would stop a small slug completely. However she wasn't going to hit even that." He doesn't say why, but the action follows so quickly that you don't feel any real concealment.

Veidt doesn't narrate anything through narrative captions. Rorschach does through his journal, we get Dr. Manhattan's thoughts, the narration of the pirate comic book and... Rorschach's psychiatrist's notes along with some backmatter material. All are very unique in their voices and all are truthful. Some contribute to the story more than others, but none mislead the reader really.

11. The murderer must not be a loony. The murderer is not a murderer unless he commits murder in the legal sense.

Adrian Veidt is very, very sane.

12. There is, as has been said, no real possibility of absolute perfection [in writing a mystery story]. Why? For two main reasons, of which has been stated aboved in Addenda Note 1. The second is the attitude of the reader himself. Readers are of too many kinds and too many levels of culture. The puzzle addict, for instance, regards the story as a contest of wits between himself and the writer; if he guesses the solution, he has won, even though he could not document his guess or justify it by solid reasoning. There is something of this competitive spirit in all readers, but the reader in whom it predominates sees no value beyond the game of guessing the solution. There is the reader, again, whose whole interest is in sensation, sadism, cruelty, blood, and the element of death. Again there is some in all of us, but the reader in whom it predominates will care nothing for the so-called deductive story, however meticulous. A third class of reader is the worrier-about-the-characters; this reader doesn't care so much about the solution; what really gets her upset is the chance that the silly little heroine will get her neck twisted on the spiral staircase. Fourth, and most important, there is the intellectual literate reader who reads mysteries because they are almost the only kind of fiction that does not get too big for its boots. This reader savors style, characterization, plot twists, all the virtuosities of the writing much more than he bothers about the solution. You cannot satisfy all these readers completely. To do so involves contradictory elements. I, in the role of reader, almost never try to guess the solution to a mystery. I simply don't regard the contest between the writer and myself as important. To be frank I regard it as the amusement of an inferior type of mind.

The fourth type of reader is the main audience here, but every other type has its moments, too. This is one of the rare stories that manages to have elements that target all four types, which is partly how it primarily targets the fourth. There's Rorschach's puzzle, a few bits of action, a connection with the characters... something for everyone, really.

13. As has been suggested above, all fiction depends on some form of suspense. But the study of the mechanics of that extreme type called menace reveals the curious psychological duality of the mind of a reader or audience which makes it possible on the one hand to be terrified about what is hiding behind the door and at the same time to know that the heroine or leading lady is not going to be murdered once she is established as the heroine or leading lady. If the character played by Claudette Colbert is in awful danger, we also know absolutely that Miss Colbert is not going to be hurt for the simple reason that she is Miss Colbert. How does the audience's mind get upset by menace in view of this clear knowledge? Of the many possible reasons I suggest two. The reaction to visual images and sounds, or their evocation in descriptive writing, is independent of reasonableness. The primitive element of fear is never far from the surface of our thoughts; anything that calls to it can defeat reason for the time being. Hence menace makes its appeal to a very ancient and very irrational emotion. Few men are beyond its influence. The other reason I suggest is that in any intense kind of literary or other projection the part is greater than the whole. The scene before the eyes dominates the thought of the audience; the normal individual makes no attempt to reconcile it with the pattern of the story. He is swayed by what is in the actual scene. When you have finished the book, it may, not necessarily will, fall into focus as a whole and be remembered by its merit so considered; but for the time of reading, the chapter is the dominating factor. The vision of the emotional imagination is very short but also very intense.

Since these are all original characters, any of them could die at any moment and some do die. In comics, particularly with superheroes, readers are conditioned to reject death or, when death occurs, not take it seriously. This wasn't the case as much when Watchmen came out and since the story begins with the death of a "superhero," the reader cannot assume that it will be the last. The tone of the writing and the art suggests that the rules here are different. The ensemble cast also suggests that any character is expendible (in theory). Those small clues create a heightened level of suspense for the average superhero comic book reader that Moore and Gibbons obviously play with a little bit.

And that does it. Next week, I have no idea what I'll look at (I do have several options, though).

Sunday, August 24, 2008

The Splash Page 28: Watchmen Part Two

This week's Splash Page concludes the discussion of Watchmen between myself, Tim Callahan and Justin Dickinson. We wrote this a couple of weeks ago, so I don't really remember how it goes... I think we discuss techniques and characters and... realism, maybe? Whatever, I don't remember specifics, but I do remember that it's gold. Pure gold.

Also, as a little note: my Raymond Chandler/Watchmen post will go up tomorrow for many reasons... the primary one being that I haven't written it yet. I had a busy weekend full of great things and couldn't find the time. Tomorrow is as good a day to post it, too.

Until then, go read about Watchmen in THE SPLASH PAGE!!!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Book of the Week 2: Holy War #4

[Another edition of "book of the week." I select a book that I bought this week for more in-depth discussion based on nothing more than what I feel like discussing. It doesn't even have to be a good comic. New posts every Friday.]

I really like Jim Starlin's work. It's well documented that I'm a big fan and have read a lot of his work. I've been trying to determine exactly how his DC work relates to his Marvel work, especially the "cosmic" stuff for each company. Over at Marvel, Starlin has created or redefined most of his core cosmic characters (Adam Warlock, Thanos, Drax, etc.), but, at DC, he's using well-established an defined characters. So, how does his approach differ?

First of all, he either creates or redefines characters. In Holy War, he continues his redefinition of Captain Comet as Comet, his supposed nephew--when, really, it's the original Captain Comet in a younger body. Now, I haven't read Starlin's Mystery in Space yet (or his old Hardcore Station stuff), so I only know the basic details thanks to Wikipedia. But, Weird is another Starlin creation that's highlighted here. He's also seemingly working on redefining Hawkman (as suggested in the special from a couple of weeks back and interviews with Starlin).

In his Marvel work, almost every large cosmic event story comes down to Adam Warlock and/or Thanos. The use of the regular Marvel universe heroes is merely a smokescreen as they prove to be of no use... they just distract the reader from the real story and act as a way to connect the events to Earth and garner interest from the general Marvel reader who would ignore a story just featuring Starlin's cosmic characters. Since his Marvel cosmic stuff ultimately revolves around his core characters no matter how misleading the story itself is, I'm left wondering which characters will be essential to this story and which are only there to throw off the reader and, in a way, "pad" the story...

The Starlin-created characters and redefined ones seem like the best bets, particularly going on this issue where Comet and Weird narrate substantial chunks. Starlin also hints at the old Captain Comet for the first time in his deeds rather than biographical detail--Comet, in this issue, is the most effective character in battling Synar, Deacon Dark and the robot Inquisitors. He takes charge and leads the group of heroes in battle, which is different from his usual cowardly and flippant attitude from previous issues. It's also contrasted with Adam Strange, the seeming leader of this group.

Strange is ineffective in the fight--first, used as a pawn by Comet, who uses his telekinesis to force Strange and Tigor's guns to fire on their enemies--and then, is rescued by Weird. After that, he takes Bizarro from Throneworld despite Starman's objections and, as a result, Throneworld is decimated by Lady Styx's forces. While we'll see more of Adam Strange in his upcoming special (where Starlin could put his stamp on the character), he is clearly here to be upstaged by other heroes, especially Comet. If you look at the cover to this issue, it's clear: Adam Strange is panicking and about to die while Comet and Weird look to save him.

Starfire also appears on the cover and also narrates a small portion of the book, but I don't think Starlin has plans for her. I could be wrong as Starlin does like strong warrior women in his books, but they usually retain a secondary position to his heroic males.

Then, how do Comet and Weird relate to other Starlin heroes? Weird resembles Syzygy Darklock and Wyrd the Reluctant Warrior either in appearance or attitude. He has an off-beat sense of humour, but also seems mystical in many ways. The way he absorbs electricity here also brings to mind Maxam's strange powers. But, most of these characters are secondary ones that assist the main hero (aside from Wyrd--although he is a clueless hero). So, while Weird is a typical Starlin creation, he will, probably, not be the deciding factor in this story.

Which leaves Comet: he is selfish, self-serving and reluctant to get involved, but, when involved, he is decisive and capable. He faced death before and it made him cautious and afraid to face it again. Like many Starlin characters, he is unsure of himself and wouldn't choose to be the "saviour," but may be forced into that role--and, when forced into that role, goes beyond all expectations. He seems the most likely candidate to resolve the problems of this story.

But, I'm not convinced that Adam Strange is out of the running for that role. There's something very compelling about the failed hero regaining his former stature and that also fits with Starlin's past work, especially his work on Silver Surfer.

The use of Bizarro here is very similar to how Starlin used Drax the Destroyer after he was resurrected--a big, dumb tool to destroy things, basically.

Since I'm not as familiar with all of these characters' backgrounds, I can't say how faithful Starlin is to their past portrayals, but I am impressed at how well he fits them into his pet themes, tropes and style. It's not as engaging as his Marvel work--the lack of a "Thanos" is a big hole--but is interesting in the context of his past work. We'll have to see how the final four issues turn out.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

I Bought Comics: The Third Week of August 2008

[Short blurbs... not quite reviews... random thoughts... sometimes rants...]

Anna Mercury #3

Huh. This issue concludes Anna's adventures on the other Earth and the issue ends almost as if it were a three-issue mini-series instead of a five-issue one... Granted, we don't get some fantastic explanation about the life of Anna Louise Britton, but that wouldn't be a new thing for Ellis. Two more issues and I'm a little bothered by that. It doesn't fit. This is where Ellis usually ends the story. Having her finish her job, take off her uniform, shower, wash the red dye from her hair and then walk home in the rain like it was just another job? That's pure Ellis. I'm more intrigued by this book now than I was before, because it doesn't fit Ellis's pattern, his style... it just doesn't fit. We'll see what comes in issue four, I suppose.

Captain America #41

See, this issue demonstrates why the slow burn style of Ed Brubaker is very effective: much of what happens in this issue relies on the build... on knowledge the reader has accumulated after 40-plus prior issues. Without said knowledge, it doesn't work. I don't feel like spoiling things, but, yeah, stuff happens in this issue. But then again, stuff happens in every issue and some people don't realise it.

Charlatan Ball #3

I enjoyed this issue quite a bit. Joe Casey and Andy Suriano seem to be finding a groove here, a balance almost... I can't say for sure why this issue is better than the first two other than a more cohesive story and a genuinely fantastic scheme by the villain. The metafictional panel in this issue is also very intriguing... is Joe Casey directing a porn flick there? Hmm... I'm on board with this issue... hmm.

The Core #1

One of those Top Cow "Pilot Season 2" books--and I only bought it (finally) because Jonathan Hickman wrote it. Just like last year, I only bought the Velocity one because Casey wrote it (and subsequently kicked the crap out of every other book). This is a pretty decent if slightly typical comic made interesting by Hickman's playing with genre conventions and presenting these ideas in a new light. I could do without the whole "aliens looking down on humans until one human saves some lives" bit, but the politics of this world along with the final three pages mean this could be a very, very interesting space opera. The art fits Hickman's writing, too. Last time I checked, this book wasn't in the top two vote getters, which is a shame, because it's got a lot of potential.

Ghost Rider #26

Wow... Danny Ketch looks like shit in a lot of these panels... a continuity-heavy issue that works because Jason Aaron trusts his reader to get the necessary bits... which I can confirm since I don't know anything about old Ghost Rider stories and I follow along just fine... but I also know that knowing every little detail isn't necessary as long as you get the important stuff... like Ketch used to be Ghost Rider, he hung out with Blaze and Caretaker, he's since learned that he was lied to by Caretaker and works for Zadkiel because he thinks that's best, which is leading him to have to fight Blaze who has regained his Ghost Rider powers at some point... pretty simple... I really miss Boschi's art... Huat can't compete...

Holy War #4

Lots of action, but the surprising bit is how well Comet handles it all. He's much more able than has been suggested until now. The action stuff is all well and good, but the use of a volcano to trick the religious idiots into not killing Hawkman is rather amusing. Probably the weakest issue yet from my standpoint, but I could see more "typical" readers enjoying this one a whole lot with all of the smashing and robots. People like smashing and robots, I think.

Scalped #20

The slow burn. Jason Aaron has it down to a science on this book. It's all in the characters and he knows his characters through and through. One of the best books out there right now. So good I don't know what to say besides that.

***

I wasn't entirely satisfied with my first "Book of the Week" post last week, so I'll be trying some new things with that in the coming weeks until I find something that works. But, as always, if you want me to expand on my thoughts regarding one of the books in Friday's post, tell me and we'll see if it makes me want to discuss that book. Otherwise, I'll just decide myself.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Week Off (Kinda)

Since I finished up Joe Casey's Wildcats stuff, I want to take a week off of regular posting, so no Raymond Chandler or Joe Casey stuff this week. I'll do my comic review posts, but that's it unless the urge strikes me to comment on stuff (which I should do more of). Regular posting resumes next Sunday with a post applying Raymond Chandler's "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story" to Watchmen and then my look at Joe Casey's The Intimates three days a week.

Later

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Joe Casey Comics: Wildcats Version 3.24

[Concluding my look at Joe Casey's Wildcats Version 3.0. I'll begin a new series of posts on another Joe Casey work sometime in the next few weeks.]

And so it ends in failure. Most of this issue is just typical fighting and posturing as things come to an explosive conclusion for "Coda War One." Zealot is rescued and if you ever wanted to see her make out with Ladytron, you get your wish. Jack Marlowe interferes in his almost-subtle way by, first, eliminating the Coda's reenforcements and then by teleporting the entire group off of the Coda compound, which Dolby and FBI Agent Chandler blow up. It's all pretty standard stuff, which leaves us with the final page where Marlowe and Wax talk:

Marlowe: I'M LEARNING TO ENJOY THE QUIET MOMENTS.

Wax: AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY KNEW EVERYTHING...

Marlowe: MY ACTIONS TO AID GRIFTER ARE NOT YOUR CONCERN. NEEDLESS TO SAY, ACTIONS WERE TAKEN. / I CAN ONLY ASSUME THIS NONSENSE CAN NOW BE PUT BEHIND US ONCE AND FOR ALL.

Wax: A LOT OF PEOPLE LIVE FOR THAT NONSENSE. IT'LL BE TOUGH TO CONVINCE THEM OTHERWISE. / I DON'T KNOW. I SUPPOSE IT ALL SEEMS... A BIT ANTICLIMACTIC IN THE END.

Marlowe: ON THE CONTRARY, AGENT WAX. / WE LIVE IN A WORLD WERE NEW IDEAS... NEW APPROACHES... ARE REGARDED WITH SUSPICION AND EVEN DERISION... / ...AND YET, EVERY DAY IS CLIMACTIC. WITH EACH NEW DAY, THERE IS BORN NEW HOPE. / AND I'M COUNTING ON THAT HOPE. NOW THAT GRIFTER HAS HOPEFULLY MADE HIS PEACE WITH THE PAST, WE CAN ALL MORE FORWARD... TO THE FUTURE. / EVERY NEW ACCOMPLISHMENT ULTIMATELY BECOMES PROLOGUE TO THE NEXT. I'M FEELING MORE OPTIMISTIC THAN I EVER HAVE. NOT ONLY OVER WHAT WE'VE DONE... BUT WE'VE YET TO DO. / IN FACT, THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING.

It's pretty obvious what Casey is really saying here, isn't it? Here is the commentary that I spoke of last time with Casey saying things we don't really expect. The book ends before its time and we'd expect anger, fury, ranting... but Casey gives us genre exercises and hints that he's not done yet. Was he already working on The Intimates? Jack Marlowe shows up in that book, too--so does Desmond from Mr. Majestic. "The children are our future" after all. Of course, that book ultimately failed, too. And Joe Casey hasn't been back to the Wildstorm universe since then.

Here, Casey also provides justification for this Coda storyline: Cole Cash couldn't move on, not really, until Zealot was dealt with. And it was also Casey's last attempt to appease the old fans of the book, the typical superhero fans... "Coda War One" was him throwing a bone to the '90s crowd. It's lots of mindless violence involving scantily clad babes... is there anything more '90s? But, he ends it with an explosion and a deus ex machina in the form of Marlowe.

I'm left wondering where this book would have went after this. I can't help but notice the repetition of Marlowe's optimism for the future from the end of issue twelve, too. Each year of the book ends with hope for the future, emphasis on the future, always looking forward after the previous year was spent looking back. What a shame that the future never arrived for this book after 55 issues... A damn shame.

Friday, August 15, 2008

The Splash Page 27: Watchmen Part One

In this week's Splash Page, Tim Callahan and I welcome a special guest in the form of Justin Dickinson, a former student of Tim's. See, he's just read Watchmen, because, despite the movie being a year away, that trailer has got everyone jacked up about it. Tim and I, on the other hand, have read Watchmen before. Many times. And since we have, we tend to blather on and on for quite a while about it to show off how we've read it and thought about it a whole lot. As such, this is only the first part of the discussion, which Tim cut off at a random point of his choosing. I know what comes after and I'm not sure a second column will finish things up. We may be looking at a three-parter here, people. Tim and I have never done a multi-part column before, so we may as well do it big. It's like how, at the end of the first season of The Newsroom, Ken Finkleman did a three-parter, or, how at the end of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Aaron Sorkin did a five-parter (only three episodes were technically connected by title, but the episodes before and after kind of told the beginning and end of the story, so...). I have no idea where I'm going with this.

I do know that if you love Watchmen (and I know you do) you'll read what we have to say about it in THE SPLASH PAGE!!!

Book of the Week 1: Young Liars #6

[The first "book of the week" post! WHEE! Are you excited? I'm excited! My criteria for "book of the week" is quite simple: whatever comic I bought this week that I feel like discussing in greater depth. It may not even be a good comic. It's just whatever has me thinking. This week, it's a good book, though. New posts every Friday.]

I've been watching a lot of House the past week. And by "a lot," I mean... oh, around five or six episodes each day on average. I'm on disc five of season two (meaning I've watched 38 episodes in a week). What? My girlfriend is out of town and I need something to distract me. Plus, the other day, my allergies were acting up and the only thing I could do without being too bothered by blowing my nose every three minutes was watching TV. And I'm way off point, aren't I? The point being that our fearless hero, Dr. Gregory House has a simple rule that he applies to medicine: everybody lies. Figure out what they're lying about and why, and, usually, you'll solve the case. Seeing as how this book is title Young Liars and pretty much every main character is, in fact, a liar, I'll get everyone caught up on who's who, what their lie is and why they're such filthy liars.

Danny: Our humble narrator. He loves Sadie and he lies about shooting her in the head. Instead, he acts more like a boss than a boyfriend, telling her what she should and shouldn't do. He also lies about how he got burned on his torso. He claims it was by the people trying to find Sadie when really he did it to himself.

Donnie: He is a transvestite and a junkie. He lies about his gender/sex and also lies if it means getting a hit.

Annie X: A former model, now skinny in that very unhealthy manner thanks to an eating disorder. She lies to her friends and calls the men hunting for Sadie, which results in all sorts of bad things.

Ceecee: Claims to be Sadie's best friend, but really just wants to control her like Danny does. She then kind of sleeps with Danny.

Truman: Also calls the men hunting Sadie, tries to enlist the gang in some wild chase for some painting or something.

Sadie: She doesn't lie about anything anymore. She used to be a horrible liar who manipulated Danny and used his crush on her against him, but since he shot her in the head, she's been a different person.

Issue six finds the gang still in Spain after last issue in which a midget cut off Danny's penis. The gang is split in two parts: Danny, Ceecee, and Donnie still in Ibiza, while Truman, Annie and Sadie go and try to steal a painting in Andalusia. The heist is genuinely funny as Sadie, at first, doesn't want to do it because she's seen movies where things are stolen and they always had blueprints--and Truman doesn't have any blueprints. Later, we see that he's drawn up very crude blueprints just to satisfy Sadie--another lie. Danny's group goes after the other three. This leads to them coming into contact with the men hunting Sadie, Sadie beating them all up and then her... well, it appears that she's died because of the bullet still in her head. Danny tries to kill himself immediately after, but is stopped by a British guy (Puss Bag) who's joined them.

In my short blurb on the issue, on Wednesday, I said, "The man obviously has a plan or he's making it up as he goes." The man, of course, being writer/artist David Lapham. Tim Callahan found that line funny for obvious reasons, so I'll expand on it a bit. What I really meant to say was that Lapham obviously has a very, very specific plan as to what he's doing or he's just kind of making it up as he goes. Having Danny get castrated and Sadie die... by the end of the sixth issue are the sort of plot twists that fit into a very specific overall picture, or are just the wild ideas you come up with on the fly. Do you know what I mean? They kind of lie at the extremes of the creative process. Now, I could be wrong, but that's just my experience. I don't know how Lapham tends to work, so I can't say for sure.

Also in this issue is the continuing flashback to early 2008--the night that Danny shot Sadie. We've seen part of this night in previous issues. Last issue had the lead-up to the beginning of this issue's flashback stuff, while issue three had the end of this flashback when Danny shot Sadie. Lapham has been telling the story in two timeframes from issue three onward. Issue one featured a couple of very short flashbacks to the very recent past to explain some of Sadie's quirks, while issue two took place exclusively in the past. Since then, issues have been divided pretty steadily between past and present. At first, I thought Lapham was going to alternate with odd-numbered issues in the present and even-numbered ones in the past, but that hasn't been the case. So, how do these flashbacks relate to what goes on in this issue?

Danny claims to love Sadie, but he also shot her. We see how it happens here exactly: she killed a record producer who she claims tried to rape her, Danny helps cover it up, she turns on him and mocks him for his affection towards her until he uses the same gun on her. In the present, Sadie steals a painting because she thinks the money will help Danny get an operation (I assume for his genitals) and then saves him (and the others) from the armed men, which results in her dying--and Danny trying to shoot himself in the head only to be stopped. The parallels are there, Danny and Sadie having switched roles in a way.

Lapham also uses music quite a bit in this book. While travelling, Danny and Puss Bag debate music with Puss Bag arguing for the Sex Pistols and Danny arguing for the Ramones, Iggy Pop and other proto-punk stuff. Really, it's an argument of British stuff versus American... in Spain. It also demonstrates how thick-headed Danny can be, getting into an argument with a guy for no other reason than he's British after said man saved his life last issue. Danny wants to be in control of everything, he wants to be The Man... and with Puss Bag around, he isn't. Note that Puss Bag saves his life at the end of the issue--no doubt that will lead to further antagonism.

I am left with one thought: what is Puss Bag lying about?

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Joe Casey Comics: Wildcats Version 3.23

[Continuing my look at Joe Casey's Wildcats Version 3.0. After this, there's only one issue left and I'll discuss that on Saturday.]

Have I been too hard on these final issues and how this book ends? Have I been missing something that connects "Coda War One" to the larger themes and ideas? Have I not dug deep enough? Have I been a lazy, lazy man and a pretty awful critic/insightful commentator/academic?

Let's assume so, because that's much more fun than me just ranting about how awful an end to the series these issues are. That just leaves the question:

WHAT AM I MISSING?

A couple of issues ago, I speculated that the book takes a regressive approach because of corporate pressures (which then become editorial pressures), that it looks to the action-filled issue of yore and figures that sales may pick up with more 'splode and less 'counting (short for accounting). That seems perfectly valid, but wouldn't Casey then try and sneak in some commentary on the action? He's not exactly the type to go cliche and mundane without some snide sarcasm on the cliched nature of the conventions he's playing into. That means I've most likely been missing the snide commentary.

Now, Cole Cash isn't self-aware enough to comment upon the conventions he acts within--most of the time. He has made the odd comment here and there, but never about his actions. He's crtiqued the hell out of Jack Marlowe's actions, though. The only one on Grifter's new Wildcats squad with the necessary objectivity to comment is Dolby, but he's so wrapped up in his own neuroses that he isn't objective. He himself is a comment on Cash, but it's an old comment that was made quite clear back around issue ten. He continues to make it here by not using weapons, but I have a hard time believing that Casey would rely only on Dolby's old point in this story. That leaves someone outside of the team, but I'm assuming FBI agents and Coda warriors don't really have that necessary objectivity either, so I'm going to focus on Marlowe and Agent Wax.

Conveniently because they're on the sidelines monitoring and commenting on the situation. Okay, so I didn't miss that, but I feel I should give you your money's worth and show off a little from time to time. Sadly, there's not much here. At first, it appears that Marlowe is content not to interfere, because he told Cash ahead of time that he wouldn't. He says that Cash knew the risks and went ahead anyway. Wax then gives a little speech on loyalty and reminds us that this isn't business, it's family. Marlowe reveals that he always intended to help and sets something off in Agent Orange's head, so he breaks free of his bonds and rescues Zealot. Then, Marlowe teleports elsewhere. Not much commentary.

Unless his actions are commentary. Agent Orange is in a position to help because of his forethought--and against Cash's objections. Cash knew the risks and said he didn't need Marlowe's help, but then claims different later. It's clear that Marlowe's involvement in "Coda War One" is a critique of Cash and his methods. Marlowe is meticulous and plans ahead; he's logical and thinks things through. Cash just jumps in with guns blazing and fucks things up. The parallel is made implicit through Cash's proxy use of the cyborg Ladytron body. In fact, Cole Cash isn't in any real danger. As far as I can tell, he's still in Los Angeles controlling Grifter Version 3.0. We haven't actually seen Cash since issue 20 and we don't see him again. He's just as protected as Marlowe--just as safe and distant. The only difference is the illusion of personal danger and involvement. I'm actually surprised we didn't get a scene where Cash exits the battle and goes to Marlowe's office to yell at him in person, to remind him of his obligation.

I've found Cash's use of Ladytron intriguing and I'm beginning to think that its replacement of him reflects Marlowe's replacement of Emp. And I wonder what Casey would have done with that had the series continued. Hmm. Guess we'll never know.

Next issue: the conclusion. About damn time, I know. I mean, I began discussing Wildcats back in March. That's a loooooooooong time, folks.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I Bought Comics: Second Week of August 2008

[To call these reviews would be kind. Blurbs is more like it. Sometimes calling them rants is accurate. Just so you know.

On the bus to the comic shop, a woman and a man got into an argument over issues unknown to me. They weren't sitting together and seemed to be strangers, but they had a very vocal argument. I don't know what it was about because I had my discman on (No Wow by the Kills was the CD). From what I could piece together by the woman's actions (telling people to move for a lady with a stroller and then shutting windows because of the AC), she thought she was in charge of the bus and this man had done something wrong by... sitting in his seat. In between songs, I did learn that the man served in the armed forces, but didn't learn why that mattered. Buses are weird.

Astonishing X-Men #26

Wow, I am not digging Simone Bianchi's art on this book. It just doesn't have the same skill or oomph as his previous stuff. It's also weird to watch as Cyclops's visor changes shape from panel to panel... The colouring is drab still.

Ellis's writing, on the other hand, is a little slow here, but the dialogue is sharp and I'm enjoying myself. He's obviously drawing on the works of Morrison and Whedon here--taking what he likes and gently mocking what he doesn't. Works for me.

Batman #679

Dr. Hurt thinks he's Thomas Wayne. The new Batman isn't Bruce Wayne, not really. Batman was created by a checkerboard and the Joker is obsessed with checkerboard patterns. The first villain to fall is a cheap Joker rip-off, making the Joker's place in the Club of Villains secure. Bat-Might? Has the Batman become just like the Joker? Hmm. Hurm.

Captain Britian and MI:13 #4

Three words: "No more Skrulls." Oh ho ho, Paul Cornell is a funny, funny guy. This book continues to be witty and fun; heroic and inspiring; modern, but also traditional. Cornell writes a British book quite unlike other Brit superhero books we've seen before, and it works very well. And that ending... what does that mean? Although, I do find it funny that Brian gives up Excalibur because he's used it to kill... Um, what did he think King Arthur used it for?

The Last Defenders #6

I called who the new Nighthawk would be. For the record. I can't remember where (probably in a review for issue two or three right here), but I did. For I am genius. Lovely paradox of an ending: the Last Defenders are created by Kyle Richmond because the Last Defenders save Kyle Richmond, thus showing him who the Last Defenders are. Not quite convinced why these four people are the perfect mixture and Casey doesn't really attempt to explain it. This series has been an examination on the nature of superhero teams, what works, what doesn't, and the lack of explanation is part of that. Who knows why one team works and another doesn't? There is a suggestion that the four elements play a role here in a similar manner to the Fantastic Four, but it's a semi-subtle one. There's also the connection to the original Defenders, although I don't see how Nighthawk connects to the Silver Surfer. What am I missing there? And, will we see more of this group soon? The end seems to suggest that we will. Good.

Secret Invasion #5

Graeme has a point. What was the point of the tease at the end of issue four when it's not followed up here at all? I mean, this book is full of cool scenes and all, but, as a narrative, it's really falling apart. Is there a narrative anymore?

Secret Invasion: Thor #1

This was decent, but nothing spectacular. Beta Ray Bill falls to Earth. The Skrulls want to kill the Asgardians. Donald Blake has to deliver a baby. I trust Fraction to amp it up a bit in the next two issues, but this didn't wow me. I'm not a big fan of the lack of inks here, either. It doesn't look that bad, just a little muddled and unfinished--and for no apparent reason.

Transhuman #3

I totally forget who is who in this book. But, there are some interesting bits in this issue on the nature of humanity and advanced monkeys. It's an interesting book at the very least. How well it works as a narrative I don't know, but we'll see how all four issues read together.

Young Liars #6

David Lapham is good. I both care for and hate most of the characters in this book. And I never know what's going to happen next. Last issue surprised the hell out of me and so does this one. The man obviously has a plan or he's making it up as he goes. Either way, I'm really digging the hell out of his book.

New feature announcement! Starting on Friday, I'll be doing a longer review/analysis of one of the comics I buy that week. It will be based purely on what I feel like talking about. What's interesting. I have no idea which one of these books it will be yet, but if you want to request a more detailed look at one of them, go for it. Not that your opinion will necessarily matter, but it may get me thinking and who knows where that will lead.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Joe Casey Comics: Wildcats Version 3.22

[Continuing my look at Joe Casey's Wildcats Version 3.0. We're down to the last three issues, so the posts on Thursday and Saturday will finish it up.]

A small blip on the long fall to the bottom. (Are there blips on falls?) This issue is the best of the final six pot-Coup D'Etat issues and it's not that great. At least for my purposes. Don't get me wrong, these final six issues are not bad comic books; they're just boring comics that lack the ambition, style, scope and promise of the rest of the series. I'm judging them against the series's potential--and they fail. Nothing new in me saying that, though.

In the subplot, Grifter's Wildcats over in Europe continue to fuck up Coda stuff and finally piss off the Coda enough that they notice them. The issue ends with a call to Jack Marlowe asking for back-up.

The main plot has a telepathic assassin infiltrating Halo as a janitor and trying to kill Marlowe. Agent Wax knows this and flies to Los Angeles to warn/help Marlowe. Not that that matters since Marlowe is a super-powered android (I say "super-powered" because of his connection with the Void entity) and knew about the assassin the whole time.

There's a showdown, but one of Casey's "anti-climatic" ones where Marlowe teleports himself, Wax and the nameless assassin to Otherspace, the source of the fuel for Halo's everlasting batteries. Here, Marlowe berates the assassin for being what he is--even calls him a cliche--before teleporting him directly into Otherspace. The sad thing here is that the scene is a cliche. The little speech Marlowe gives is a cliche. He's right, of course, but we've seen it a few times before in this series and the previous volume--from Marlowe. Marlowe doesn't act decisively exactly, he likes to toy with his prey, to make his little speeches... and then kill them. Or, he allows them to make their little speeches... and then kills them. He did it with Smith, Noir, the Smack Fairy... Actually, no, this is the first time in this volume that he did this. He's made speeches in this volume, but not before killing anyone like this. Another regression? Is this issue not a blip, but a further sign of the series's decline?

Today, in a post on Wildstorm, CSBG's Brad Curran claimed, that Casey's Wildcats "...is completely overrated by the 12 people who liked it and were really vociferous about it on the ‘net, from the small sample size I’ve read." He's right, you know (not about the 12 people or the "completely" part, but...). It is overrated and these final six issues--hell, most of the second half of the series--shows that. A book full of promise that turned into a failure artically and commercially. At least, before that, it was just a failure commercially.

Two more issues left.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Two reviews

It's been a while. I took the summer off from writing reviews, basically. But now I'm back with two links: one to my review of Flight Explorer and one to a review of Life Sucks.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Raymond Chandler's Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story: Strange Kiss

[Another in my series of posts where I take Raymond Chandler's "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story" (plus the 13 addenda) and apply them to a comic book mystery story. Right now, posts tend to show up on Sundays, but that could easily change when I run out of stories to discuss.]

I know what some of you must be thinking: "Is Strange Kiss a mystery story?" Fair question. The short answer is "Yeah, sure, why not." The long answer is "Um... kinda. See, it's mostly a horror story about a guy getting revenge. But, seeing as how he has to figure out who to get revenge upon, he has to solve the mystery of who killed his buddy. It's not the central premise of the story, but it is a mystery. And, you know, after two weeks of stories that are obviously mysteries, I wanted to go for something a little askew. Something a little more messy, a little less certain. Something that borrows mystery elements, so we can see that genre-mixing is fun. Also, I didn't want another story set in Gotham after last week and I wasn't in the mood to go hunting for Ed Brubaker's Point Blank. So, let's look at this book and see how a story with the bare minimum of a mystery nonetheless holds up to Raymond Chandler's ghostly scrutiny. Also, using the first arc from Desolation Jones would have been a bit obvious. And, I wanted to have a laugh."

For those who don't know, Strange Kiss is a very simple story: William Gravel is a member of SAS, and is in the US on deniable ops doing horrible things for the British government. His oldest mate, Bull is gay and fucked a young man who somehow made his dick rot off and impregnate him with lizards. Because Bull is over the hill, he dies in the process of them being born--not before making Gravel promise to find those responsible and fuck them up. Through some basic detective work, Gravel discovers that a very old lizard being from another plain of existence is using pseudopods to impregnate humans so it can, well, have kids. Gravel hunts down the pseudopods, kills them and then kills the giant lizard thing. Of course, the central mystery: who filled Bull with little lizard eggs that wound up killing him? Simple enough. Let's get to it.

Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story (Revised April 18, 1948)

1. It must be credibly motivated, both as to the original situation and the denouement; it must consist of the plausible actions of plausible people in plausible circumstances, it being remembered that plausibility is largely a matter of style. This requirement rules out most trick endings and a great many "closed circle" stories in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody. It also rules out such elaborate mises-en-scene as Christie's Murder in a Calais Coach, where the whole setup for the crime requires such a fluky set of happenings that it could never seem real.

Giant lizard thing wants to perpetuate its species. It sees humans as a lesser form of life and killing them in the process isn't really a consideration. I'd say that motive is credible.

2. It must be technically sound as to the methods of murder and detection. No fantastic poisons or improper effects from poison such as death from nonfatal doses, etc. No use of silencers on revolvers (they won't work) or snakes climbing bellropes ("The Speckled Band"). Such things at once destroy the foundation of the story. If the detective is a trained policeman, he must act like one, and have the mental and physical equipment that go with the job. If he is a private investigator or amateur, he must at least know enough about police methods not to make an ass of himself. When a policeman is made out to be a fool, as he always was on the Sherlock Holmes stories, this not only depreciates the accomplishment of the detective but it makes the reader doubt the author's knowledge of his own field. Conan Doyle and Poe were primitives in this art and stand in relation to the best modern writers as Giotto does to da Vinci. They did things which are no longer permissible and exposed ignorances that are no longer tolerated. Also, police art, itself, was rudimentary in their time. "The Purloined Letter" would not fool a modern cop for four minutes. Conan Doyle showed no knowledge whatever of the organization of Scotland Yard's men. Christie commits the same stupidities in our time, but that doesn't make them right. Contrast Austin Freeman, who wrote a story about a forged fingerprint ten years before police method realized such things could be done.

Okay, the means of murder here are fantastical, but that's okay. Gravel's methods of detection are sound... kind of. He hangs around the hospital where Bull died, and waits to go talk with the coroner. While waiting, he sees a couple of very odd-looking people head in the direction of the morgue. He finds them guns out on two coroners, and kills them both. He finds a card for the art exhibit Bull visited where he encountered the man he had sex with--and also uses magic to discover exactly what the lizard people are. Okay, the magic part is a little dubious, but the rest is sound.

3. It must be honest with the reader. This is always said, but the implications are not realized. Important facts not only must not be concealed, they must not be distorted by false emphasis. Unimportant facts must not be projected in such a way as to make them portentous. (This creation of red herrings and false menace out of trick camera work and mood shots if the typical Hollywood mystery picture cheat.) Inferences from the facts are the detective's stock in trade; but he should disclose enough to keep the reader's mind working. It is arguable, although not certain, that inferences arising from special knowledge (e.g., Dr. Thorndyke) are a bit of a cheat, because the basic theory of all good mystery writing is that at some stage not too late in the story the reader did have the materials to solve the problem. If specal scientific knowledge was necessary to interpret the facts, the reader did not have the solution unless he had the special knowledge. It may have been Austin Freeman's feeling about this that led him to the invention of the inverted detective story, in which the reader knows the solution from the beginning and takes his pleasure from watching the detective trace it out a step at a time.

We actually have more information than Gravel does most of the time. We get scenes involving other humans and the lizard pseudopods. But, everything Gravel knows, we know. Nothing is concealed. Maybe that magic bit where he figures out exactly what the pseudopods are, but when he uses it, we see what he sees, so how he does it isn't exactly cheating the reader. Particularly since it involves taking off his pants and doing... something to a pseudopod body... Probably best that those details are concealed.

4. It must be realistic as to character, setting, and atmosphere. It must be about real people in the real world. Very few mystery writers have any talent for character work, but that doesn't mean it is not necessary. It makes the difference between the story you reread and remember and the one you skim through and almost instantly forget. Those like Valentine Williams who say the problem overrides everything are merely trying to cover up their own inability to create character.

Despite the lizard pseudopods and magic, this story happens in the real world. Gravel doesn't give us much character, but that's not unusual for the special ops soldier type. One of the coroners, Leigh Hunt is very human and assists Gravel a bit. Their small bits of interaction are funny and add humanity to a story about people being buggered by lizards.

5. It must have a sound story value apart from the mystery element; i.e., the investigation itself must be an adventure worth reading.

Since the mystery element is minor here, the story definitely has value beyond it. It's both a horror story and a revenge story. Both of those work, but I think the revenge element is the most important--the mystery/detection stuff assists the revenge. Considering the mystery is solved at the end of the second issue (three issues total), it obviously holds some value outside of the mystery if I'd read the final issue. I've also reread this series many times, showing its value there, as well.

6. To achieve this it must have some form of suspense, even if only intellectual. This does not mean menace and especially it does not mean that the detective must be menaced by grave personal danger. This last is a trend and like all trends will exhaust itself by overimitation. Nor need the reader be kept hanging on the edge of his chair. The overplotted story can be dull too; too much shock may result in numbness to shock. But there must be conflict, physical, ethical or emotional, and there must be some element of danger in the broadest sense of the word.

It's lizards in people suits impregnating people... yeah, I think the readers want to know how this one turns out. The suspense is there. Gravel never even seems in that personal of danger. He's very calm and cool under pressure. All of the suspense comes from the sheer horror of the situation. Since it is a short story, the shock value doesn't really have a chance to wear off, thankfully.

7. It must have color, lift, and a reasonable amount of dash. It takes an awful lot of technical adroitness to compensate for a dull style, although it has been done, especially in England.

Well, it's got that Warren Ellis charm we all know and love. It moves along at a swift pace with bursts of action with some wit and humour thrown in.

8. It must have enough essential simplicity to be explained easily when the time comes. (This is possibly the most often violated of all the rules). The ideal denouement is one in which everything is revealed in a flash of action. This is rare because ideas that good are always rare. The explanation need not be very short (except on the screen), and often it cannot be short; but it must be interesting in itself, it must be something the reader is anxious to hear, and not a new story with a new set of characters, dragged in to justify an overcomplicated plot. Above all the explanation must not be merely a long-winded assembling of minute circumstances which no ordinary reader could possibly be expected to remember. To make the solution dependent on this is a kind of unfairness, since here again the reader did not have the solution within his grasp, in any practical sense. To expect him to remember a thousand trivialities and from them to select that three that are decisive is as unfair as to expect him to have a profound knowledge of chemistry, metallurgy, or the mating habits of the Patagonian anteater.

Giant lizard being needs living beings as incubators. Very short and to the point. There's no strict denouement here. The end of the second issue gives us the point of the pseudopods, while the third issue gives a bit more detail. It's very simple and basic: procreation. Can't get much more basic a motive than that.

9. It must baffle a reasonably intelligent reader. This opens up a very difficult question. Some of the best detective stories ever written (those of Austin Freeman, for example) seldom baffle an intelligent reader to the end. But the reader does not guess the complete solution and could not himself have made a logical demonstration of it. Since readers are of many minds, some will guess a cleverly hidden murder and some will be fooled by the most transparent plot. (Could the "Red-Headed League" ever really fool a modern reader?) It is not necessary or even possible to fool to the hilt the real aficionado of mystery fiction. A mystery story that consistently did that and was honest would be unintelligible to the average fan; he simply would not know what the story was all about. But there must be some important elements of the story that elude the most penetrating reader.

Does it baffle an intelligent reader? Since the mystery is pretty simple, I'm not sure it does--or is meant to. However, we don't learn of the giant lizard creature until Gravel does, so unless a reader guessing its existence, I suppose the reader is baffled.

10. The solution must seem inevitable once revealed. This is the least often emphasized element of a good mystery, but it is one of the important elements of all fiction. It is not enough merely to fool or elude or sidestep the reader; you must make him feel that he ought not to have been fooled and that the fooling was honorable.

Okay, what else besides a giant lizard creature is going to impregnate people with tiny lizards? This is one of the most inevitable solutions you'll find.

11. It must not try to do everything at once. If it is a puzzle story operating in a rather cool, reasonable atmosphere, it cannot also be a violent adventure or a passionate romance. An atmosphere of terror destroys logical thinking; if the story is about the intricate psychological pressures that lead apparently ordinary people to commit murder, it cannot then switch to the cool analysis of the police investigator. The detective cannot be hero and menace at the same time; the murderer cannot be a tormented victim of circumstance and also a heavy.

Gravel may be our detective and protagonist, but he's a soldier and killer. He is menacing and brutal, but not particularly heroic. It's a horror/revenge story and sticks pretty much to that throughout.

12. It must punish the criminal in one way or another, not necessarily by operation of the law. Contrary to popular (and Johnston Office) belief, this requirement has nothing much to do with morality. It is a part of the logic of detection. If the detective fails to resolve the consequences of the crime, the story is an unresolved chord and leaves irritation behind it.

Gravel kills the giant lizard creature and slaughters as many of the pseudopods--and pregant humans--as possible along the way.



Addenda

1. The perfect detective story cannot be written. The type of mind which can evolve the perfect problem is not the type of mind that can produce the artistic job of writing. It would be nice to have Dashiell Hammett and Austin Freeman in the same book, but it just isn't possible. Hammett couldn't have the plodding patience and Freeman couldn't have the verve for narrative. They don't go together. Even a fair compromise such as Dorothy Sayers is less satisfying than the two types taken separately.

This isn't a detective story proper. Yes, the second issue has elements of the detective story, but those aid in Gravel's main motivation: revenge. Ellis describes Strange Kiss as a horror story, but it really reads like a revenge story more than anything. It has elements of the horror and mystery genres, but, at its core, is about William Gravel fucking up those responsible for his friend, Bull's death. And Ellis focuses on that pretty well.

2. The most effective way to conceal a simple mystery is behind another mystery. This is litrary legerdemain. You do not fool the reader by hiding clues or faking character [ala] Christie but by making him solve the wrong problem.

The mystery here is so simple that there isn't much to hide behind. The reader may be distracted by the mystery of who William Gravel is exactly. Or, the role of the pseudopods. But, there's barely a primary mystery, so a secondary one would be a bit much.

3. It has been said that "nobody cares about the corpse." This is bunk. It is throwing away a valuable element. It is like saying the murder of your aunt means no more to you than the murder of an unknown man in an unknown part of a city you never visited.

The key to caring about the corpse here is caring about Gravel. If the reader doesn't care about Gravel, then it obviously won't care about his dead friend. Does the reader care about Gravel? Is the reader given any reason to? I mean, Gravel is the protagonist, obviously, but is that enough? He visits his sick friend in the hospital--but while doing deniable ops in a foreign country... and, later, we discover, he should have left, but was doing some moonlighting work for money. Gravel is a pretty horrible person, probably. That doesn't necessarily prevent the reader from caring about him, though. Bull is a little more sympathetic in that we see that he's pregnant with lizards and his dick has rotted off. I think we don't really care about either until near the end of the last issue when Gravel says to the giant lizard creature, "LOOK, IT'S A SHAME. KIDS ARE IMPORTANT. NOT FUCKING DYING IS IMPORTANT. I AGREE YOU'VE GOT THE SHITTY END OF THE STICK. / BUT HE WAS MY ONLY FRIEND." Here, we pity Gravel, because he is a horrible person and quite powerful, but he's alone and looks to remain that way because of the choices he's made. He is the type of guy, though, who hunts down the giant lizard creature that killed his friend and kills it. That's got to count for something.

But, no, we don't care about the corpse really.

4. Flip dialogue is not wit.

I rather enjoy Ellis's dialogue here. It's him doing that "hard man" shit and it's rather funny at times. There's also some wit in its honesty. Like Gravel annoyed when his grenade gets stuck in his jacket. It's direct dialogue with little room for anything else.

5. A mystery serial does not make a good mystery novel. The "curtains" depend for their effect on your not having the next chapter to read at once. In book form these curtains give the effect of a false suspense and tend to be merely irritating. The magazines have begun to find that out.

The transitions from issue to issue are pretty solid here. Information is given again near the beginning of issues two and three, but since the events here are so unusual and messed up, characters repeating things to get them sorted out makes sense. If you saw your best friend die while lizards shot out of his ass, you'd probably repeat it for a while... if only to convince yourself that it happened.

6. Love interest nearly always weakens a mystery story because it creates a type of suspense that is antagonistic and not complementary to the detective's struggle to solve the problem. The kind of love interest that works is the one that complicates the problem by adding to the detective's troubles but which at the same time you instinctively feel will not survive the story. A really good detective never gets married. He would lose his detachment, and this detachment is part of his charm.

Ah, Leigh Hunt... Ellis fakes us out with her. She appears like she'll be a love interest, but, of course, she's not. Although, we do get a bit of humanity from Gravel as he at least leaves her alive--albeit without her memory of him or these events. He's compromised, slightly, but manages to remain detached, too.

7. The fact that love interest is played up in the big magazines and on the screen doesn't make it artistic. Women are supposed to be the target of magazine fiction and movies. The magazines are not interested in mystery writing as an art. They are not interested in any kind of writing as an art.

Um...

8. The hero of the mystery story is the detective. Everything hangs on his personality. If he hasn't one, you have very little. And you have very few really good mystery stories. Naturally.

Gravel has a personality. He's got a sense of humour here, but isn't sophisticated. (I'm trying my best to look at the character in just this story, not including what I know from subsequent stories featuring the character.) He's loyal and can turn a phrase. He's also very direct and capable. Since he has spawned... what, five more mini-series and then an ongoing series starring him, I'd say he's got some personality.

9. The criminal cannot be the detective. This is an old rule and has once in a while been violated successfully, but it is sound as it ever was. For this reason: the detective by tradition and definition is the seeker of truth. He can't be that if he already knows the truth. There is an implied guarantee to the reader that the detective is on the level.

William Gravel is not a giant lizard creature. He kills the giant lizard creature.

10. The same remark applies to the story where the first-person narrator is the criminal. I should personally have to qualify this by saying that for me the first-person narration can always be accused of subtle dishonesty because of its appearance of candor and its ability to suppress the detective's ratiocination while giving a clear account of his words and acts. Which opens up the much larger question of what honesty really is in this context; is it not a matter of degree rather an absolute? I think it is and always will be. Regardless of the candor of the first-person narrative there comes a time when the detective has made up his mind and yet does not communicate this to the reader. He holds some of his thinking for the denouement or explanation. He tells the facts but not the reaction in his mind to those facts. Is this a permissible convention of deceit? It must be; otherwise the detective telling his own story could not have solved the problem in advance of the technical denouement. Once in a lifetime a story such as The Big Sleep holds almost nothing back; the denouement is an action which the reader meets as soon as the detective. The theorizing from that action follows immediately. There is only a momentary concealment of the fact that Marlowe loaded the gun with blanks when he gave it to Carmen down by the oil sump. But even this is tipped off to the reader when he says, "If she missed the can, which she was certain to do, she would probably hit the wheel. That would stop a small slug completely. However she wasn't going to hit even that." He doesn't say why, but the action follows so quickly that you don't feel any real concealment.

There is no narrator here. The perspective is not exclusively place on Gravel, though. We get information he doesn't involving other humans and the lizard people. Gravel conceals nothing from the reader, basically. This is one of those rare mysteries where we know more than him.

11. The murderer must not be a loony. The murderer is not a murderer unless he commits murder in the legal sense.

I assume the giant lizard creature isn't insane. Wanting to procreate is a pretty sane desire.

12. There is, as has been said, no real possibility of absolute perfection [in writing a mystery story]. Why? For two main reasons, of which has been stated aboved in Addenda Note 1. The second is the attitude of the reader himself. Readers are of too many kinds and too many levels of culture. The puzzle addict, for instance, regards the story as a contest of wits between himself and the writer; if he guesses the solution, he has won, even though he could not document his guess or justify it by solid reasoning. There is something of this competitive spirit in all readers, but the reader in whom it predominates sees no value beyond the game of guessing the solution. There is the reader, again, whose whole interest is in sensation, sadism, cruelty, blood, and the element of death. Again there is some in all of us, but the reader in whom it predominates will care nothing for the so-called deductive story, however meticulous. A third class of reader is the worrier-about-the-characters; this reader doesn't care so much about the solution; what really gets her upset is the chance that the silly little heroine will get her neck twisted on the spiral staircase. Fourth, and most important, there is the intellectual literate reader who reads mysteries because they are almost the only kind of fiction that does not get too big for its boots. This reader savors style, characterization, plot twists, all the virtuosities of the writing much more than he bothers about the solution. You cannot satisfy all these readers completely. To do so involves contradictory elements. I, in the role of reader, almost never try to guess the solution to a mystery. I simply don't regard the contest between the writer and myself as important. To be frank I regard it as the amusement of an inferior type of mind.

The audience here is the second type of reader: those who want "sensation, sadism, cruelty, blood, and the element of death." And the story provides. I think Ellis is able to elevate it to also target the fourth type of reader, but make no mistake, the goal here is horrific violence and fucked up shit. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

13. As has been suggested above, all fiction depends on some form of suspense. But the study of the mechanics of that extreme type called menace reveals the curious psychological duality of the mind of a reader or audience which makes it possible on the one hand to be terrified about what is hiding behind the door and at the same time to know that the heroine or leading lady is not going to be murdered once she is established as the heroine or leading lady. If the character played by Claudette Colbert is in awful danger, we also know absolutely that Miss Colbert is not going to be hurt for the simple reason that she is Miss Colbert. How does the audience's mind get upset by menace in view of this clear knowledge? Of the many possible reasons I suggest two. The reaction to visual images and sounds, or their evocation in descriptive writing, is independent of reasonableness. The primitive element of fear is never far from the surface of our thoughts; anything that calls to it can defeat reason for the time being. Hence menace makes its appeal to a very ancient and very irrational emotion. Few men are beyond its influence. The other reason I suggest is that in any intense kind of literary or other projection the part is greater than the whole. The scene before the eyes dominates the thought of the audience; the normal individual makes no attempt to reconcile it with the pattern of the story. He is swayed by what is in the actual scene. When you have finished the book, it may, not necessarily will, fall into focus as a whole and be remembered by its merit so considered; but for the time of reading, the chapter is the dominating factor. The vision of the emotional imagination is very short but also very intense.

There's a suspense here in the idea of "What happens if William Gravel fails?" Since this is a new character with no history and considering Ellis's reputation/track record, this story could have easily ended with the human race overrun by the lizard people and the entire planet turned into one big rape camp for the giant lizard creature, you know? In the back of the reader's head is that scenario: everyone on the planet is a possible breeding place for these things. "Someone just like me can have little lizards inside of them... ready to burst forth, killing me in the process." It's a scary thought and there's no guarantee that things will turn out alright. But, it's also a revenge story, and what's the point of that without the revenge?

Alright, that does it for this installment. A bit of a cheat this week, I know. Next week, I promise a "proper" proper mystery.