Gluey Tart: Age Called Blue

Age Called Blue, est em, 2009, NetComics

I love est em’s drawing style. I’m also fond of her gently melancholy tone. I usually like my yaoi crazy and sweet, because I can be unhappy and angsty all on my own, thanks. But you can’t eat chocolate all the time – even Kinukitty can’t, although I do dream – and sometimes you want something bitter.

Age Called Blue is about rock stars. I’ve only seen one yaoi manga about rock bands, that I remember, and it was not ideal. (Hard Rock by Akane Abe, which was not hot. Or especially interesting.) This seems like a bizarre omission, since rock stars are a fun, sexy topic, and it’s not like there isn’t a huge music scene in Japan. Ironically, the rock stars in Age Called Blue are British. One of those things, I guess.

No point in worrying about what is lacking just at the moment, though, when there’s such a feast on the table. This is a beautiful, sexy book. It isn’t sexy because it’s a non-stop romp of bawdy ass piratery – not that there’s anything wrong with that – but because it’s about intimacy. There’s sex and nudity, but it isn’t on an epic scale. It does mean something, though. The relationships feel very real, even if the settings are not strictly plausible. (Realistic, yes. Real, no.) There are young men and old men, dreams and betrayals, situations that are messy and wistful. Things fall apart, like things do, and people try, fail, wait, and hope.

The main story arc, about the band, sort of plots the trajectory of a car wreck (metaphorically, although sort of literally, too), although it isn’t told in order. I’m not usually a fan of that sort of thing because it’s kind of hard to get it right, and it can add a level of confusion that isn’t usually necessary, much less helpful. It’s usually better to just tell the damned story and leave evocative to the couple of people who can handle it. Well, est em gives good evocative, it turns out, and the snippets we get, weaving in and out of the timeline and ending with the beginning, really work. It feels like remembering, the way one memory triggers another in an almost random way that isn’t random at all. There’s also a little bonus two-pager at the very end of the book. It’s the sweetest take on a funeral for a friend that I’ve ever seen. The style is stark and looks almost like a wood-block print, and the feeling is stark, too. Not really sad, though. Sometimes that happens with love.

That’s what this story is about. The main characters are a pair of up and coming rockers, the singer and guitar player (of course; that’s sexier than the bass player and drummer, it just is). The singer (Nick) is a charismatic asshole of the sort we’ve all pined after (if we’re lucky) or chased (if we’re less lucky). He drifts through life being all hot and fascinating and hurting everybody. Especially the guitar player (Billy), who actually loves him. I can’t think of a way to really discuss what happens in the story without ruining its revelations, so I’m not going to give any details. I’ll just note that the complications are painful, but the outcome is sweet and even beautiful. The story also focuses on two older men, rock stars who were big years ago but are now past their prime. The interactions and intersections between these four characters is played quietly, but the patterns are pretty.

In the first side story, “I Saw the Blue,” the first encounter between the two lovers (French, this time) takes place when Lucian delivers something to Professor Pascal and throws up in the envelope (after it’s empty, at least). Meeting cute, n’est ce pas? There is a four-star scene where the professor – Michel – pours paint over Lucian’s naked body and tells him to roll around on a piece of paper. Lucian tempts Michel to join him (it doesn’t take much, but the way he does it makes me smile stupidly), and they wind up rolling in the paint together. It turns out that Michel is keeping something very important from Lucian, and the scene in which this is revealed is painful. The last scene, though, is subtly hopeful, not for anything more to come of this relationship, but perhaps for another love to grow.

The final side story, “Ni Pukha Ni Pera,” is extremely improbable, and I was shocked when it ended up being not only an embarrassment to everyone associated with it but actually touching. It’s about a friendship that is obviously so deep as to be a little more (I’ve been listening to the fabulous Flight of the Conchords album, I Told You I Was Freaky, so this reminds me of a bit from their song, “Friends”: “My Uncle John had a special friend/They dressed alike, his name was Ben/I’ve never seen two friends like them/They were very, very friendly men”). Friendship porn is standard stuff, obviously. Except that this friendship starts in 1950s Russia, and what stands between them is one man’s yearning to go into space. As in become a cosmonaut (rather than the “Ground control to Major Tom” way), which he does. This one doesn’t end the way you’d expect it to, either. And I’m also a little bit in love with est em’s wistful old men.

And that’s the book. My understanding is that est em prefers that the Romanized version of her name be all lower case, so I will go with that, even if it makes me start thinking about how not even the rain has such small hands. (That was an e.e. cummings reference, for those of you who hate modern poetry or, perhaps, just e.e. cummings, which is fair enough. Although we are actually supposed to capitalize his name, it turns out, despite what the teachers said in high school. Confusing, isn’t it? Annoying bastard.) est em is Maki Satoh, and her pen name is eso to emu, or S&M.

I found that out while trying to find out something about the translation. Age Called Blue was apparently translated by Netcomic’s Soyoung Jung, who translated Dining Bar Akira, which read a little funny to me. I was curious because est em’s previous book, Red Blinds the Foolish, was translated by Matt Thorne, making it something of a gold standard. And he was “supervising translator” for her first book in English, Seduce Me After the Show. I thought this Publishers Weekly interview snippet with Thorne, “Matt Thorne Returns to Translation”, was interesting:

est em, whose real name is Maki Satoh, is a former student and dear friend of mine. Most artists, including est em, have little input in the exporting of their work. So one day her editor told her, “We’re putting out an English language edition of your first book,” and then months later, she mentions it to me. So I freaked out and said, “Are you serious!? When!? Your work’s too sophisticated to be translated by some hack!” So we asked her editor, and learned that the translation was already done, but the editor asked me if I would check it. I ended up pretty much redoing it. For the second volume, I was in from the beginning.

So obviously I had to go reread Red Blinds the Foolish and Seduce Me After the Show, and then reread Age Called Blue to see how the tone compared. (No wonder I never have time to cook or clean or send out Christmas cards.) Anyway, I didn’t have any problems with Age Called Blue, although I did wonder about the lyrics to the song that resonates throughout the main story. Although, you know – rock song lyrics. Who knows.

I looked through the Amazon.com reviews to see if anyone addressed the translation question. No one did, but I noticed a lot of comments to the effect that est em’s drawing is rough, the stories are raw, and the works are an acquired taste. That makes me shake my head sadly. There is a theory that yaoi fans want nothing but empty-headed stories about 18-year-old pretty boys having explicit sex with other 18-year-old pretty boys. Not that there’s nothing wrong with that – I’m a fan. But I think most people can appreciate a beautiful piece of work like this, regardless of their usual tastes and fetishes.

Utilitarian Review 1/9/10

On HU

Lots of bytes through the sluice on HU this week.

To start off, I sneered at the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and wondered about Fantagraphics’ marketing policy (Fantagraphic marketers showed up to explain in the comments.)

I denounced Lady Snowblood, movie and comic, on the grounds that they are evil. Suat came back with a lengthy defense

I defended blogging and even got all emo about it. In another meta moment, I defended my right to think Ganges is boring and sneer at other comics critics and spit bile more or less indiscriminately, damn it.

Kinukitty reviewed the yaoi Dining Bar Akira.

Richard kicked off a new series, Anything But Capes, in which he looks at genres other than super-heroes. He started off by looking at the state of Barbarian comics.

Suat reviewed Ooku, which he doesn’t like as much as me.

I explained what my son has and has not learned from Peanuts.

Vom Marlowe drew a comic expressing her disinterest in X-Men Forever.

And this week’s music download features lots of doomy drones and other metal. (Last week’s, if you missed it, features Thai country music (Luk Thung.)

Utilitarians Everywhere

My enthusiastic review of Dokebi Bride is up on Comixology this week.

That departure, I think, points to the core knot at the heart of Dokebi Bride. The book, like many ghost stories, is about grief and dislocation and how the two circle around each other like black, exhausted smudges. The first volume opens with Sunbi’s father carrying her mother’s ashes back from the grave; that volume ends with the death of Sunbi’s grandmother, who raised her and cared for her. The central loss of a parent, and therefore of self, returns again and again through the series, a literal haunting. Sunbi can’t function without putting the past behind her, but the past is everything she is — she can’t let it go. When a fortune teller offers to read her future, Sunbi rejects the offer angrily. “No, I don’t want to know about my stupid future!” she bites out through her tears. “Just tell me what all this means to me! Tell me why they’ve all died and left me, why they’re even trying to take away my memories!”

On Tcj.com I reviewed Strange Suspense: Steve Ditko Archives Volume 1.

Did you read that whole thing? If you did and you enjoyed it, you’re a hardier soul than I. “I got my letter and then I thought about my letter and then I thought about my letter some more and then I used a metaphor: ‘leaden feet’!” That’s just dreadful. And, yes, that’s the one romance story in the book, but the horror and adventure comics are not appreciably better; there’s still the numbing repetition, the tin ear, and the infuriating refusal to finesse said tin ear by leaving the damn pictures alone to tell their own story.

Bert Stabler and I talk about Zizek and art over at his blog Dark Shapes Refer.

I like the idea that you need a transcendent background in order to appreciate, or even allow for, multiplicity. I’m thinking about this a little bit in terms of culture and art, and the impulse that I think most everyone has to want people to consume/listen/read/whatever the right thing. It seems like that’s coming from a place where the transcendent is material; that is, your worshipping the art itself, therefore moral choices become essentially consumer choices. Alternately, you just cut culture and morality apart altogether, and argue that neither has anything to do with the other. Whereas if you have a transcendent ground of some sort, you can say, well, culture connects up to morality and or important things in various ways, and you can talk about it in those terms, but choices about art are not in themselves good or evil.

On Madeloud, I review the soundtrack to the BBC miniseries Life on Earth, which profoundly affected my life when I was, like, 8.

Over at Metropulse, I have a review of avant Japanese guitarist Shinobu Nemotu’s Improvisations #1.

At the same site there’s also a review of the slab of black doom that is
Nihil’s Grond.

At the Chicago Reader I review the fairly amusing gimmick book Twitterature.

Other Links

I enjoyed Tucker Stone’s Best of at Comixology, especially since he picked the right thing for book of the year.

Ta-Nehisi Coates explains why he wants to be able to check “Negro” on his census form.

And finally, Johanna Draper Carlson has a nice summation and round up of links relating to the devil’s bargain between MOCCA and Archie Comics.

Music for Middle Brow Snobs: Angherr Soda

Doomy/drony, plus some prog.

1. Angherr Shisspa — Koenjihyakkei (Angherr Shisspa)
2. Rimfrost — The Raventhrone (Veraldar Nagli)
3. Drudkh — Eternal Turn of the Wheel (Forgotten Legends)
4. Nadja — Dead Skin Mask (When I See The Sun Always Shine on TV)
5. 22:34 14 Jan 2009 — Shinobu Nemotu (Improvisations #1)
6. Gui Boratto — Atomic Soda (Take My Breath Away)

Download Angherr Shisspa.

And if you missed it, you can find last week’s Thai music download here.

Face Down in the Mainstream, Illustrated Edition

This is my first Face Down in the Mainstream post here at our new home, and I assume there are some new readers.  This column chronicles my attempts to find a mainstream comic to read and enjoy.  Said comic must be currently running, not an older trade, and ideally focus on female superheroes, although I’m not going to ignore the more traditional male heroes.  I read comics more for art than words, and I frequently read manga in Japanese without ever knowing what the words mean. Thus far my favorites have been Detective Comics Batwoman and Marvel Adventures Spider-Man.

For the first column in our new digs, I wanted to do something a little special, but as you will see, my options were limited.  But I did what I could.

So, I crafted a whole bunch more pages, but I won’t bore you all further.  The truth is, this first page is about as much as you need to know about how I felt about this comic.

But I do try to do a good job on these little reviews, so here’s the usual textual explanation with images yanked from the comic as examples.  This comic has a nice explanation of the story-up-til this point in the front, and then leaps directly into the action, which is an X-men team battling a giant purple robot.  Despite the purpleness of the robot and the colorful nature of the X-men costumes and faces, this comic is rather bland.  Sure, you have people in  green and yellow tights, but the overall color scheme is simple and in many places, so oversaturated with neutrals that the colors of the suits don’t even pop.

The jungle scene in particular disappointed me.  There was plenty of green and blue, but not much was done with that.  All very flat, alas, and no interesting ink patterns to spice things up.

Here’s a particularly good example of what I mean:

It’s not bad, is it?  It’s just overwhelmingly dull.  A shame.

The story itself chugs along OK.  People do things, other people react, villains plot to take over the world, the X-men try to make sure that the emotionally tender member of their team is OK, and so on.  It’s just—  I didn’t really care one way or the other.

I found the twist at the end utterly predictable, and I’m pretty sure I know where the character foreshadowing is going.  The cute picture of Rogue on the cover, holding the guts of the giant robot, didn’t really come about much in the comic, but it didn’t really not either.  I mean, they do battle the robot and she does win, but there isn’t much struggle to get the victory.  The emotional reactions don’t last much past a single panel (except for Kitty’s, which was caused by events in a previous issue), so it’s hard to take any of them very seriously.  There’s not much sacrifice or bonding or character development, and while the external plot does move forward, I’m not finding any themes or depths.  It’s a villain who wants to take over the world  using giant robots, you know?

So anyway.  Not bad, not good, rather dull.  I’ve got my eye on a few new likely looking suspects in the rack at my local Borders, but first I’ll need to shovel my way out.  *sigh*

Spiritual Enlightenment from Peanuts

I was reading the 1963 Fantagraphics Peanuts collection to my son (now on sale!) he’s gotten really into them recently. Anyway, there’s one fantastic series of strips where Linus paints a Biblical mural on the ceiling of Snoopy’s doghouse. In perhaps the best, Linus comments that he isn’t sure what Antiochus Epiphanes of the Maccabee story looks like— a lack of knowledge which, Snoopy comments, is forgivable in a six year old.

My son is very curious about how old the Peanuts characters are exactly, so I pointed to the end of the strip and said, “Look, Snoopy says Linus is six, just like you.”

“Linus is six?” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “But he doesn’t act like he’s six really does he?”

“No,” he said. “Because he carries a blanket around and sucks his thumb.”

“Um, right.” I said. “But he also does things that seem older. Like painting a mural on the roof of a doghouse. Could you paint a mural on the ceiling of a doghouse?”

“I could if the doghouse was big enough.”

“I don’t…”

“I could. I can paint. And I could paint a mural about the Hanukkah story.”

As is the way of my Semitic people, I have, of course, done absolutely nothing to further my child’s religious education, prompting my wife, who was sitting nearby, to ask the obvious question.

“How do you know that the Maccabees have anything to do with Hanukkah?”

He looked at us like we were crazy. “Because,” he said, “I saw it on Krypto the Super Dog.”

Ooku Volume 1: Some Impressions

Fumi Yoshinaga’s Ooku is set in an alternate Edo period Japan where the male population has been halved by an epidemic known as the Redpox with the women taking the majority of male societal roles as a result. Noah has a short synopsis and glowing review of the first volume at the previous HU site and is probably its most articulate proponent. In fact, his gushing enthusiasm for the series is the reason why I picked up a copy of volume 2 without even bothering to read the volume I had at hand.

I’m a bit more ambivalent about what I’ve read so far.

One of my problems with Ooku is that it asks us to accept a logical leap of faith without sufficient justification: that a Japan reduced to a population consisting of 25% men would be ruled and dominated by women over the course of 3 Shogunates (80 years). The haste with which the scenario is dispensed to the readers in the initial pages of the first volume suggests that Yoshinaga is less concerned with the internal consistency of her scenario than with its final consequences.

Continue reading

Anything But Capes

Alternate Title: Barbarians at the Blog!

Back in 2000, the world was a better, simpler place.* The American comics market exemplified this simplicity. It consisted of Marvel superheroes, DC superheroes, Image superheroes, a few dark fantasies from Vertigo, and those Star Wars comics that Dark Horse keeps churning out. Not exactly a broad selection, but perfect for aging nerds who grew up reading superhero comics and watching Star Wars.

But something happened over the past decade. Publishers started producing more comics that had nothing to do with superheroes. Suddenly, there were a lot more horror comics, crime comics, science fiction comics, war comics, and even Westerns (you know something big is going down when Westerns make a comeback). If the comics industry didn’t grow much in size, it at least grew in variety.

Over the next couple months, I plan to see what the American comics market has to offer that doesn’t involve capes and tights. Because I’m interested in what the comics industry is producing at the beginning of the new decade, I’ll only be looking at recent titles, not reprinted material. To keep myself focused, I’m going to organize the books into genres and review a sample of titles. I have no intention of reading and reviewing every title of every genre, so instead I’ll rely upon a complex scientific formula to select titles that are most representative of each genre. The explanation of my method is provided in footnote **. After the reviews, I’ll summarize the state of each genre, looking at both its size in the market and the overall quality of its titles.

I’ll begin with a genre that has had its share of ups-and-downs in the comics market … barbarians! For the sake of clarity, barbarian comics are fantasy stories about muscular men in loin clothes killing shit with swords and axes. Of course, there’s room for variation on this basic model. For example, woman in chainmail bikini can be substituted in for man in loin cloth. But barbarian stories are not simply high fantasy tales; there needs to be a significant amount of violence, sex, and characters who never wear pants (as a counterexample, The Lord of the Rings has some violence but no sex and way too many pants). Also, comics about fantasy strongmen who arrive in the present day and fight crime are not barbarian stories. They’re superhero stories that steal the surface appeal of barbarian stories.

I looked hard for recently published barbarian comics, but I found only about half a dozen titles, four of which I chose to review below. None of these titles were selling well in the Direct Market, but all of the titles had prior storylines collected and sold as trades, so presumably the DM isn’t the only source of sales. Now, onto the reviews…

Conan the Cimmerian #16
Writer: Timothy Truman
Artists: Timothy Truman and Tomas Giorello
Colorist: Jose Villarrubia
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics

Fact: The Cimmerians were a real people who inhabited the region around the Black Sea in the 8th and 7th centuries B.C.

Fact: They didn’t look like Austrian bodybuilders.

Of course, the Conan story has nothing to do with history and everything to do with Robert E. Howard‘s testosterone-fueled fantasies. But Conan isn’t just another masculine power fantasy. He pretty much is THE masculine power fantasy, the epitome of violence, sex, and rugged individualism. And no survey of barbarian comics would be complete without covering the latest iteration of the muscle bound brute who started it all.

I lucked out with Conan the Cimmerian #16, because it’s the beginning of a new storyline. There’s no recap page, but I had no problem figuring out what was going on. Conan somehow landed himself a sweet gig as the military adviser to a hot princess named Yasmela. Conan’s in love with her, but she only has eyes for an exiled prince named Julion, who’s girly compared to Conan. We know he’s a girly man because he does girly things, like giving flowers to girls and using multisyllabic words.

So Conan decides to impress her by doing something stupid, which results in his war band getting ambushed, and then Conan almost gets eaten by a velociraptor (it’s fantasy, not history).

As Conan stories go, this isn’t bad. It has character-driven conflict, Conan is a badass but not infallible, and there’s violence and (implied) sex.

The comic falters on the art. Tomas Giorello does the first seven pages and the final page, and his work is perfectly suited to a Conan book. His backgrounds are lush, and he uses numerous small lines to give more detail to his characters, which would be annoying in a different context, but in a barbarian book it gives the characters a distinctly savage look.  But the majority of the comic is drawn by writer Timothy Truman, and his style is far less detailed and far more cartoonish. It isn’t terrible art, but the transition from Giorello to Hutton and back again is jarring, especially in a comic that’s only 24 pages.

Overall, a decent barbarian comic, but not one that entices me to follow the series.

Hercules: The Knives of Kush #1
Writer: Steve Moore
Artist: Cris Bolson
Colorist: Doug Sirois
Publisher: Radical Comics

Reading Hercules, I couldn’t help but take pity on the Nemean Lion. The Nemean Lion was just doing what lions do when a violent Greek showed up and killed him, skinned him, and decided to hear the Lion’s head as a hat.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the Nemean Lion because this comic wasn’t very interesting.

The plot is serviceable: Hercules and his band of misfits arrive in Egypt during a civil war. They decide to work as mercenaries for the legitimate pharaoh, who’s losing the war to his half-brother. It seems that the would-be-usurper has formed an alliance with a sorcerer who leads the titular Knives of Kush.

Unfortunately, nothing else about the comic is the least bit engaging. Most of the characters, including Hercules, lack a distinguishable personality or voice, and in any case they spend spend the entire issue delivering page after page of exposition and occasionally engage in non-witty banter.

The art is also pretty bad. Cris Bolson puts a lot of detail into his panels, but his characters look stiff and plastic. As a result, the fight scenes resemble action figures posed in mid-attack, which robs the violence of any excitement. His sexy women aren’t very sexy either.

Hercules is a hard character to screw up. But he’s also been so extensively ripped off and parodied that creators need to bring something more to the table than just a standard sword and sorcery plot. That’s about all you get here.

Warlord #9
Writer/Artist: Mike Grell
Colorist: David Curiel
Publisher: DC Comics

Warlord follows the adventures of Travis Morgan, a man from the regular world who somehow got trapped in the barbarian world of Skartaris. But other than the occasional war, being trapped in Skartaris doesn’t seem like such a bad deal. Morgan has a hot princess girlfriend named Tara and a hot pseudo-girlfriend named Shakira who can turn into a cat. In fact, hot, scantily-clad women are as numerous as trees in Skartaris. And Morgan seems to have embraced the local dress-code because his outfit consists of boots, a helmet, and armored underwear.

Not much happens in this issue, but that may not be a failure in the writing so much as the fact that this is a “down-time” issue. In a superhero comic, down-time issues are normally where characters sit around and whine about their relationships, but in Warlord the characters just have sex. And there is a lot of sex in this issue. Nothing too racy, of course (this is still a DC comic), but Grell manages to include some nice cheesecake. Though the guitar as phallic symbol is a little too obvious.

As an artist, Grell has his share of strengths and weaknesses. His backgrounds are well-designed and his characters can be quite attractive. But his fight scenes lack any real sense of impact, his characters often seem disconnected from the panels they occupy, and panel layout can occasionally be rather confusing.

Problems with the art aside, of all the barbarian comics I read, this seemed the most polished and one with the most depth to its characters and universe. Not surprising, given that Mike Grell created Warlord, and he clearly knows what he’s doing with this book. Unfortunately, this comic has some dense continuity, not just with the previous 9 issues but also with prior Warlord comics. To be fair, there’s a quite a bit of exposition that’s intended to help new readers catch up, but knowing what happened previously isn’t the same as caring. Like so many comics that have been around (off-and-on) for years, Warlord proceeds with the assumption that its readers are already fans, and there’s only minimal effort to show new readers why they should care about any of this.

But I’m curious enough about Warlord that I’ll probably look for the first trade paperback and see whether my opinion changes.

Queen Sonja #1
Writer: Joshua Ortega
Artist: Mel Rubi
Colorist: Vinicius Andrade (*that is an awesome name*)
Publisher: Dynamite

Don’t let the title fool you. This is not a Female Force bio-comic about Queen Sonja of Norway. Rather, this is the sequel to Dynamite’s Red Sonja comic, but there’s no evident continuity with the previous title. As someone who never read a Red Sonja comic, I can appreciate the fresh start.

As the title makes clear, Sonja is now a queen (of Made-up Land), and the comic is mostly a flashback about how she ended up on the throne. Sonja agrees to avenge an old woman’s late husband and recover a family heirloom, and along the way she’s clearly going to come into conflict with an evil empire. There’s also plenty of violence and gore in this comic, in the best barbarian tradition. But the plot and the action (not to mention the one-dimensional characters) are completely overwhelmed by the massive amounts of cheesecake. Every other panel focuses on Sonja’s perfect body and the chainmail bikini that seems perpetually about to fall off.

Now, I don’t have a problem with cheesecake, I just wrote a paragraph praising the cheesecake in Warlord, but in this title the cheesecake was ridiculously excessive. But when I stopped to think about it, the cheesecake is ultimately what this comic is all about. Let’s be honest: the selling point of Red Sonja is not really the violence and it certainly isn’t the plot. It’s a comic about a hot red-head in a chainmail bikini. Either you want to look at a hot red-head in a chainmail bikini, or you don’t. Giving her a more tasteful outfit would only take away the one thing that makes Sonja memorable. And there’s no point in pretending that readers, especially women, are going to be won over by Sonja’s “personality,” or the slim bits of dialogue.

Admittedly, my interest in barbarian comics is that of a casual reader, not a fan, but a monthly comic seems  like an expensive way to indulge a fetish for barbarian pin-ups. Still, the current Red Sonja franchise has lasted for over 4 years, so there must be plenty of people out there who like this. And unlike superhero comics, barbarian comics aren’t (or shouldn’t be) marketed towards children, so the cheesecake here isn’t age-inappropriate.

_

State of the Genre: meager. Very few titles to choose from, and most of them lack truly distinctive features  that set them apart from the rest. They all satisfy the basic expectations for a barbarian comic (fantasy setting, violence, cheesecake, lack of pants), but only Warlord suggests that it might have something more in content.

The next time I appraise a genre, I’ll try one that’s a bit more robust, maybe horror.

_________________________

*This is not true.