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 #18 – Review

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

The Story: Gus and the gang hit the road to Alaska, readjusting to the outside world.

What’s Good: Jeff Lemire is never afraid of getting experimental with Sweet Tooth’s layouts, and nowhere is this more on display than this month, where the book is in landscape and, at points, narrated like a storybook, with a splash page on top and a page of prose narration below.  But that’s not what’s best about this issue.

What’s best is its emotional resonance.  Take for example the tension between the newly reunited Jepperd and Gus.  Jepperd’s obvious sense of guilt and his clumsy attempts to reconnect are absolutely heartbreaking, regardless of whether he’s done wrong.  There’s something pathetic in his actions this month, using relics in an attempt to rekindle a time long past and regain a friendship with a Gus that no longer exists.  Or is that Gus simply buried?  Either way, it’s really gut-wrenching, eye-watering stuff that is sincere in the utmost.

Gus himself functions incredibly well this month as a kind of moral compass.  His clear sense of right and wrong show a much clearer, more defined character than the impressionable kid from issue 1.  Perhaps he’s idealistic, but he’s steadfast.  Gus shows himself to be a restraining force on the adults, a figure who reminds them of their humanity.

I also really enjoy the group dynamic that the comic has taken on.  In some ways, it reminds me of the Walking Dead: it’s an ensemble in a post-apocalyptic world, with each character having his or her unique characteristics and place in the group.  A special mention also has to go to Bobby, who gets in a couple of really hilarious lines this month.  It was surprising to get that out of Lemire, as Sweet Tooth has never been the comic to go to for laughs.

There’s also a heavy emphasis on the importance of the innocence of childhood this month that was really quite touching.  Seeing all the tension and horror of the series break away, even for a moment, to allow for kids to be kids and friends to be friends was a beautiful sight to see.  Indeed, the final splash of the issue almost made my eyes water.  It was such a display of friendship and goodness and acceptance that it’s hard to put into words.

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 #10 – Review

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

The Story: Singh uses hypnosis to lead Gus through his past on a search for answers.

What’s Good: After falling just the tiniest bit short of his usual gold standard last month, Lemire kicks us in the teeth with one of his best issues of Sweet Tooth yet.

Lemire removes Jepperd this month, allowing for a more focused issue that develops the relationship between Singh and Gus.  What makes this so superb, and so intriguing, is that Lemire returns to the juxtaposition between science and the humanities.  In my usage of the word “humanities,” I mean that which escapes the dull rationalism of scientific figures:  religion, emotion, and childhood innocence in the case of Sweet Tooth.

The conflict between these two sides becomes a major, yet subtle, theme as Singh struggles to probe through Gus’ memories.  He repeatedly, almost desperately, asks Gus whether there are any scientific instruments, numbers, or notations in the cabin of his youth, and each time he is befuddled when told that this is not the case.  The cabin is a science-free zone dominated by bizarre mix of zealous religion and childhood experience and, as such, both Gus and his father reject science as the evil justifications and misguided machinations of sinful men.  The result is a sense of Singh’s inability to understand Gus’ world.  There must be a scientific explanation for Gus’ existence, but there is simply no evidence to support this no matter how much Singh desires it.  Eventually, Singh even falls to cynicism; for lack of empirical evidence, he believes Gus’ mother to have never existed.  Of course, at issue’s end, he is proven dead wrong.

Sweet Tooth #9 – Review

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

The Story: The curtain is pulled back a little more on Jepperd’s past, while Singh tries to gain Gus’ trust.

What’s Good: Despite its focus on a small number of characters, it’s become clear that Sweet Tooth is quite often about betrayal.  Lemire once again does a great job of depicting this recurring theme.  A betrayal in Jepperd’s past with his wife Louise is oddly related to his betrayal of Gus, and thus trauma links with, and creates, trauma.  When Louise and Jepperd are betrayed this month, it’s bitterly fitting that the worst moment of Jepperd’s life occurs at exactly the same spot as his betrayal of Gus.  With Jepperd’s flashbacks coming to their climax, the past comes just a little closer to the present in very effective fashion.

With its running theme of betrayal, it’s only natural that this month would also focus quite a bit on trust.  It’s elegant writing on Lemire’s part that both Gus and Jepperd’s portions of the issue treat this subject.  Singh attempts to gain Gus’ trust, while in the past, Abbott tries to gain Jepperd and Louise’s.   Of course, typical of Lemire’s deftness and his dark, post-apocalyptic world, both situations pull in opposite directions:  Gus struggles to trust what seems to be an honest man, while Louise and Jepperd willingly place their trust in the hands of bad men.  It’s very effective plotting for Lemire, particularly with all the characters walking difficult routes.

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 #2 – Review

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

The Story: Gus and his savior, Jepperd hit the road and get to know each other a little, inevitably they run into their first bit of trouble.

What’s Good: Once again, Lemire’s minimalist approach works wonders.  As a new, major character is introduced, we don’t get giant word bubbles of exposition, nor do we get captioned-to-hell flashback sequences.  Instead, the few words we get become all the more important and character-defining, and we end up with a far sparser, moody, and unique book.

This month sees a fascinating juxtaposition that will clearly be the heart of this entire series, as both the hardened Jepperd and the innocent Gus bring the best out of each other.  Perfect foils to one another, they make each other feel more human, while also emphasizing each others’ opposite positions on the innocence-experience spectrum.  Seeing Jepperd from Gus’ perspective makes him look truly terrifying, while Jepperd, whether it’s in offering Gus candy or scaring him into hiding under his bed, brings out the childish innocence that Gus represents.

That said, the relationship also brings out nuances in the characters.  The usage of the “Sweet Tooth” nickname in this issue was a definite highlight, almost used as a bridge to a establish a different relationship between Gus and Jepperd, one that exposes a softer side of the big man.  The nice, fatherly Jepperd is in there, but he’s buried deep.

Lemire’s art meanwhile continues to evoke the darkness of the dystopic, barren environment in which his story takes place.  The use of lighting is superb, giving the book an isolated, campfire feel.  As is the mark of any good artist, Lemire also leaves me with several lasting images:  a gorgeous, pitch-perfect image of Gus and Jepperd on horseback, and an absolutely beautifully plotted action sequence in which Jepperd guns down an attacker.   This sequence is a demonstration of how decompression can be used to good ends, stretching out time and in so doing, making what is a fast and brutal scene feel gorgeous, expansive, and pictoresque.

What’s Not So Good: With this being a more dialogue-heavy issue, it’s become clear that Lemire has a unique way of plotting dialogue that takes some getting used to, and at worse, can be a little annoying.  For Lemire, a conversation leads to a great many small panels on a page, as he rarely has more than one person speak per panel.  He’s usually more content to have the “camera” move back and forth between characters, each panel focusing on the speaker, before the next moves on to focus on the respondent.  This constant back and forth can get a little irritating in its more extended uses.

Lemire also stumbles a bit in his first hand to hand combat sequence.  His ruddy, almost messy linework made some of the smaller action panels a little hard to discriminate at first glance.   It almost feels like too much was going on in too little space.

Conclusion: With a direction now firmly in place, this is looking to be a moody and atmospheric book with the potential to be both rollercoaster and sprawling epic.

Grade: B+

-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

The Walking Dead #63 – Review

by Robert Kirkman (writer), Charlie Adlard (pencils and inks), Cliff Rathburn (gray tones), and Rus Wooton (letters)

The Story: Our group goes looking for Dale before finally finding Father Gabriel’s church.  We also finally meet the much-hyped “Hunters.”

What’s Good: This arc looks to be a great one as for the second month in a row, we get an absolutely stellar issue. I really enjoyed the fleeting glimpse that Andrea got of the Hunter and the panicked paranoia it inspired.  While it’s not as unsettling as the midnight sighting last month, the Hunters are working really well as a horror device.  As the series has worn on, the actual zombies have become less frightening so it’s refreshing to have a new presence in the book that actually puts fear in me. With the Hunters, the horror has returned to the Walking Dead.

Speaking of which, Kirkman once again delivers another crushing, shocking ending. The man truly has no mercy for his characters. I highly advise a reader to NOT– by any means, look at the final page before reading the rest of the book.  You really don’t want to spoil the shock here, which is delivered with pitch-perfect, expert pacing.

The final scene also does well in distinguishing these hunters from the Governor’s forces. This is clearly a new kind of threat, simpler perhaps, but also more brutal.

The Hunter leader Chris is creepy as hell, but also fascinating. Considering the ending, I look forward to hearing their logic expanded upon. It’s a really promising start to a new host of enemies and a new aspect of survivor psychology.

One has only to look at this issue’s ending to see that Kirkman loves his shocks and thrills. For this reason, I loved that Gabriel’s story was actually fairly mundane and subtle; horrific yes, but because it wasn’t at all shocking or surprising shows just how much us readers have come to accept the desolate world Kirkman has crafted. Gabriel’s story is dark, but its poignancy comes from how depressing it is without being surprising, that something so horrible is now so run-of-the-mill.

Adlard delivers the art that Walking Dead readers have come to know and love. That said, I particularly enjoyed his drawing of Gabriel’s church, which evoked a “classic horror,” Night of the Living Dead feel.  The eery, night-time chapel almost felt like an homage that worked really well in black and white. I also loved the final two pages depicting the Hunter’s encampment; from the glowing firelight, to the shadowed faces, to the calmly insane features of their leader, Adlard succeeds in furthering the deeply unsettling nature of this new threat.

What’s Not So Good:  Nothing of note.  That said, readers should note that Carl is entirely absent, so don’t expect any more developments regarding his recent actions. This issue is more or less entirely centred on the hunt for Dale.

Conclusion: The Walking Dead #63 contains all things that a good horror comic should have. Pick it up! It’s good to see TWD returning to its visceral, generic roots.

Grade: A-

-Alex Evans

Afterburn #1 – Review

By: Scott Chitwood (Creator & Script), Paul Ens (Script), Wayne Nichols (Pencils), Nick Schley (Inks), Marc Hampson & Andrew Dalhouse (Colors)

I have mixed reactions with this comic. The concept is interesting: a solar flare hits half of the Earth’s surface, killing or mutating that side of the population.

The story starts a year after the disaster and follows a team of bounty hunters trying to steal the Mona Lisa from the Louvre. They meet some mutants and a type of Belloqesque antagonist (for you Indy fans). Some time later, they go on another mission in a flooded Hong Kong, only to find pirates (I don’t know if they are mutants or badly drawn Chinese), and mutated sharks.

The main character survives apocalypse by being in a shielded room in an oil rig. But then he goes out to check on his buddies and exposes himself to the lethal rays. I don’t quite understand his actions, unless the following issues of this book show that he has some kind of superpower radiation. Otherwise, this guy should be crispy by now – I saw Sunshine!

Another question that bothers me is why the mutants don’t sell their treasures to the surviving side of the Earth and make a living out of it. Beats me! The shark scene was pretty ingenious, but the rest of the book feels a bit “off”. I hope that this is a slow start for the series and with issue #2 all the “off-iness” will be addressed. This title has a lot of potential. (Grade: C+)

-Daniel Yanez