Sweet Tooth #19 – Review

by Jeff Lemire (writer & artist), Nate Powell, Emi Lenox, & Matt Kindt (art), Jose Villarrubia (colors), and Patrick Brosseau (letters)

The Story: Lucy, Becky, and Wendy share their histories with one another as they wander through the forest.

The Review: One certainly can’t fault Jeff Lemire for not taking creative risks with Sweet Tooth.  Last month we got a landscape-styled “storybook” issue and this month we have Lemire bring along three indie cartoonists to help illustrate three separate tales and, much as was the case last month, he makes gold out of what could have been a disaster.

Given that it’s the main attraction this month, the art seems a fitting place to start.  All three guest artists, and Lemire himself, have incredibly different styles.  Yet, it really, really works as each artist was masterfully chosen for each particular story he or she illustrates.  Each artist has a very unique look, but it suits the stories of the particular characters they illustrate beautifully.  Nate Powell’s more mundane, slice-of-life look on Lucy’s previous life as a married nurse, Emi Lenox’s tragic Saturday-morning cartoon take on Becky’s childhood, or Matt Kindt’s dreamy, surreal storybook take on Wendy’s life with Mom.  Each artist brings something unique to the table and each gives a certain life to their part of the issue, what that highlights the tone Lemire that was going for in each little story.

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.