Sweet Tooth #23 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brousseau (letters)

The Story: Gus and co. debate whether or not to leave the Dam for Alaska.

What’s Good:  This is the sort of script that really shows off what a strong, ensemble cast Lemire has put together and ends up being all about the character-work.  It’s hard to believe that not long ago, this was entirely a “man and boy” adventure focused tightly on Jepperd and Gus.  Now we’ve got a whole crew of characters, each of them likable and/or compelling in their own unique ways.  Bobby is probably the cutest character in any comic I’m reading right now, so much so that I hope Lemire starts carrying around Bobby plushies at conventions.   Johnny delivers a slight but never forced or over-the-top comic relief to the group.  Meanwhile, Doctor Singh looks more crazy-eyed and conspiratorial by the month, and that’s certainly the case here.

Meanwhile, on the darker side of things, Lucy grows to be an increasingly tragic, hard-luck figure as her condition worsens.  Even more interesting is Walter Fish, who reaches a new high as far as general creepiness is concerned, despite never really doing anything incriminating.  It’s a wonderful balance that Lemire is striking with the character.  Jepperd is, of course, as strong as ever as well, continually moving around the issue with a constant, barely tethered anger.  I also liked how violently Jepperd reacts when his soft side gets rebuked.  The minute he gets rejected, he instantly closes up behind that anger once again.

So all told, it’s strong character-work all around met with Lemire’s excellent, moody artwork, with fun layouts and little adjustments in line-work whenever a particular panel is meant to reflect a mood or emotion.

Sweet Tooth #12 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Singh recounts the outbreak of the plague while Gus finds glimmers of humanity in the camp.

What’s Good: This is one of the issues that shows not only Lemire’s creativity, but his bravery in his willingness to experiment with the storytelling and format of Sweet Tooth.  The result is a nice little break between story arcs that’s a solid outing in and of itself.

The strongpoint of the issue, and really its structural foundation, is how it essentially tells two stories simultaneously, one purely through images and the other mostly through narration (with sparser images along the bottom of the page).  Putting the two stories together like this makes them into brilliant parallels, foils really, for one another.  Singh depressingly recounts the barbarism and destruction of the plague’s outbreak and the early days, while Gus suffers upon his arrival at the camp, but manages to find little bits of hope, fellowship, and humanity as well.   Despite this inherent juxtaposition, both stories also feature both their very different characters attempting to find light and goodness in a pitch dark situation.

This paralleling also makes Lemire’s differing delivery of these two stories appropriate, as it again highlights Lemire’s intention of balancing innocence with experience, in this case the child Gus and the adult Singh.  Not only does the subject matter of their stories bounce off of one another in this light, but it seems right that Gus, the child, would have his story relayed solely through pictures while the world-weary adult, Singh, would use mostly words.  There’s a kind of purity in having a story told solely through artwork, while there’s a greater feel of artifice (appropriate for the adult scientist) to narration, particularly when that narration is a transcription of Singh’s own diary recordings.

Sweet Tooth #11 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Louise’s death, Jepperd’s imprisonment by the militia, and his ensuing deal with Abbott are recounted.

What’s Good: The trip Lemire has been taking the grizzled, hardened Jeppered on lately has certainly been an interesting one, if only because of how it highlights his vulnerability and consequent deterioration.  That reaches new depths this month and with Lemire having spent so many of Sweet Tooth’s early issues building Jepperd into a tough-as-nails wrecking machine, seeing the guy reduced to such desperation is definitely very effective.

This month, Jepperd is shown at his weakest. He is emotionally destroyed, he is physically trapped, he is reduced to begging, and, for the first time in the series, he is physically beaten to a pulp, fair and square, in a fight we’d expect him to win.  It’s disconcerting stuff and certainly, seeing a guy like Jepperd so completely destroyed in every arena that a human being can be assaulted is just another example of how great Lemire is at writing the traumatic.  Yet, it also makes the last page all the more effective; never before has Jepperd seemed more dangerous and more threatening than now, having come through the flames of such physical and emotional pain.

Much of this issue is spent in the slow, gradual relationship that is forged between Jepperd and his warden, Johnny, who’s a seemingly nice guy.  It’s well written by Lemire; Johnny is the one physically weak presence amidst men like Jepperd and Abbott and is hopelessly stuck between the two of them.  Lemire does well in giving Johnny an affable, vernacular tone that often struggles to deal with the dire subject matter, much like the character himself.

Then there’s Abbott, who Lemire cements as a strong villain after this issue.  Completely cold, weirdly friendly, and always calm, Abbott has a relaxed presence that grows increasingly sinister.  It’s strangely suitable that in a world of hard, intimidating people, the most dangerous guy is also the most unassuming.

Lemire artwork continues to be tremendous for Sweet Tooth.  Backgrounds reflect states of mind and larger panels are perfectly in synch with the book’s emotional tone.  Lemire also makes really cool use of darkness this month in his depiction of Jepperd’s imprisonment.  It shuts down and punctuates the book, much as it shuts down and punctuates the conversations themselves as dialogue ends when the light goes out.  I also continue to enjoy Lemire’s depictions of action, which are always fast, claustrophobic, crushed together, and brutal.

Sweet Tooth #8 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Gus meets Dr. Singh and has a shocking revelation.  Meanwhile, Jepperd simply tries to forget.

What’s Good: Despite being in a post-apocalyptic future full of horrid people, and despite starring a boy that’s half deer, like most of the past issues of Lemire’s series, this month’s issue of Sweet Tooth feels distinctly human on many levels.  There are so many genuine, strong emotions called forth, here.  All of it feels honest, almost in a “slice of life” kind of way.  None of these emotions carry even the slightest  hint of artifice or construction, despite this being a written text.  For instance, Jepperd’s camp side conversation with Louise is a genuinely funny moment, a brief glimmer of light in a world that is pitch black.  The fact that you’re sure to laugh at Jepperd’s joke only pulls you closer to these two characters, as you too find yourself amused and comforted by Jepperd’s jest despite the unrelenting brutality and nastiness of Sweet Tooth’s world in general.

Or there’s Jepperd’s trauma and the kind of self-flagellation he undergoes.  Lemire’s narration here is brutally simple, enhancing his character’s dire state.  As the character tries to forget, attempting to render himself unconscious in painful fashion, we come into contact with that dark hole that always lurks beneath Lemire’s book, threatening to suck everything down.  More importantly, due to Lemire’s minimalist narration, we truly understand Jepperd and feel his pain.

Meanwhile, Gus’ portion of the issue is no less engaging, as Lemire introduces us to Dr. Singh.  All told, it’s a fantastic juxtaposition between a scientist at the extremes of an adult “ends justify the means” doctrine, and Gus’ Christianity-tinged innocence and “black and white” sense of right and wrong.  The back and forth the two have is intriguing, if only because Gus seems unable to accept, or fully comprehend, Singh’s stance, while Singh can only look at Gus’ ideas as a kind of naive idealism he wishes he could still inhabit.

Of course, a lot of this isn’t laid out in words.  Much of it comes solely from Lemire’s illustrations which, as always, are in perfect sync with his script.  Dr. Singh in particular is fantastically drawn.  Regardless of what the doctor says, his constantly world-weary expression and tired, glassy eyes evidence a man who’s exhausted, someone who’s seen far more horrors than any man should.  Compared to the always wild-eyed Gus, the difference is stark.  Lemire also has some good fun with layouts this month, using creative paneling to mirror the fade in and out of consciousness.

Oh, and did I mention there’s a huge slam-bang revelation at the end of the book?  It’s sure to raise a few eyebrows.

Sweet Tooth #4 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters

The Story: Becky’s secret is revealed, as Gus and Jepperd come face to face with the seedy underbelly of Lemire’s post-apocalyptic world.

What’s Good: Lemire truly takes us into deep waters this month, and what we get is an incredibly disturbing book.  His narrative world has never been more dark, but that darkness now has a very uncomfortable grain of perversion to go along with all the gloom and doom.  That Lemire actually went in this direction is a brave move by him and actually surprised me.  Best of all, hiss theme this month is as tasteful as possible, given the subject matter.  This is not shock for shock’s sake, and it carries not a grain of sensationalism.

Really though, it’s hard not for me to draw similarities between this month’s issue and the Road.  Much like that book/film, Lemire’s work here is so dark, that it causes the reader to grasp at any moment of human kindness.  Because the rest of the issue is so disturbing, when Lemire gives us that one good action, as innocent Gus pushes Jepperd into the role of hero, it feels so satisfying.  It also shows how solid the chemistry is between the two characters: the innocent Gus still carries the ideals the experienced Jepperd has seemingly forgotten.

And that’s another strength of this month’s issue, as it perhaps, more directly than ever, raises the issue of morality that rightfully crops up in any dystopian work.  What still counts as a “good man” in a world that is gone so wrong?  It’s clear that Gus, whether he’s aware of it or not, is attempting to move Jepperd back along the road of redemption, and it’s both fascinating and touching.

That said, even with this glimmer of goodness, Lemire is quick to remind us that the world of Sweet Tooth is still oppressive, always threatening to envelop any hope or kindness that crops up.  Even an act of heroism is, in this world, incredibly brutal and violent in its very nature.  Lemire makes no effort to render Jepperd’s actions glossy, and despite the good intentions, it’s all depicted with an unforgiving, violent, and harsh honesty.  Worse still, once this redemptive moment is complete, the darkness of Lemire’s world is quick to move in and recapture its hold.  Jepperd’s actions may have, in themselves, been good, but the difference they made turns out to be far less than one might expect.

On art, Lemire delivers some absolutely gorgeous outdoor images.  It’s clear that as an artist, he’s generally very well aware of his strengths.  There’s a stunning horse-ride in the rain that best encapsulates Lemire’s sparse, yet emotional style.

What’s Not So Good: With his rougher style, I did feel that Lemire’s artwork isn’t at its best in close, well-lit, indoor surroundings.  It strips him of the barren, outdoor landscape he works so excellently, while drawing attention to his flaws.  Essentially, he’s an utterly unconventional cartoonist being forced to draw a more conventional comic scene, and as a result, the simpler nature of his artwork that usually serves him so well becomes a bit ill-suited.

Conclusion: The best issue since the series debut.  If you’re not reading this, you are really missing out.

Grade: A –

-Alex Evans

Sweet Tooth #1 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Pat Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Meet Gus, a strange animal/boy hybrid born in the wake of an apocalyptic pandemic.  In this issue he deals with death, while he’s hunted by some bad men. Along the way, he meets a possible friend.

What’s Good: I feel as though Vertigo comics are often quite talky, and Lemire’s is much sparser, foregoing the cumbersome exposition one often finds in first issues and letting the barren images do the talking instead; allowing us to get acquainted with the post-apocalyptic setting more by seeing it than hearing it explained to us.

This also makes what is said all the more impactful.  Gus’ relationship with his father is a good example, and is exceptionally well-done.  Lemire avoids creating an easy character here, as Gus’ dad’s mental damage has led to him being two very different people.  By day, he is a tender, loving, instructional father who’s earned his son’s love.  By night, he’s a gibbering lunatic babbling desperate prayers to God.  It’s a very nuanced relationship.

The religious aspect also adds a particular kind of darkness to this first issue.  It colors the dystopic world with desperation, and makes the comic even darker than it already would be, highlighting what people clutch onto in the wake of devastation.

In spite of this darkness, it’s hard not to be touched by Gus’ naivety and innocence.  Watching him play or speak of death almost lackadaisically is oddly powerful, and I hope to see more of how this innocence collides with the broken world outside.

All told, the sparseness of the dialogue pairs up very nicely with Lemire’s artwork, which is utterly haunting.  There are a number of panels here that will stay ingrained in your mind, one in particular that I can’t share.  The lack of dialogue, the muddy palette of colors, the heavy linework, and the sheer number of images of Gus wandering on his own create a feeling of absolute barren tragedy that felt like nothing I’ve read in quite a while.  It just felt so damned sad, heavy, and empty.

What’s Not So Good: It’s not the issue’s fault, but I do have to mention that Vertigo made a really weird choice in making the ending of this first issue their preview, which affected my enjoyment of the book.

Also, while I loved the dark and bare art here, this isn’t Bryan Hitch or John Cassaday.  It’s not overly difficult or brutally detailed stuff, and at times may strike some as seeming a little simple.  While it conjures great atmosphere, you probably won’t be in awe of Lemire’s technical ability if raw artistic horsepower is all you’re after.

The issue’s pacing is also, towards the end, a little convenient.  The timing of Gus’ being attacked is just a little too much and a little too soon.  Similarly, how Gus survives is a little bit deus ex machina, even if Lemire is simply trying to introduce the other main character of the series.

Lemire is also taking a leisurely pace as well.  Very little is known thus far.  Don’t expect explosiveness.

Conclusion: Atmosphere and mood are what this book is all about.  Thoroughly barren and broken with a beautiful glimmer of hope, this is a fantastic debut issue.

Grade: B+

-Alex Evans