Keyser Soze
AW YEEEAH!
- Joined
- Mar 9, 2002
- Messages
- 21,405
- Reaction score
- 14
- Points
- 33
VELVET #1
Sometimes you know youre going to love a comic from the second you first hear about it, and so Ive been anticipating Velvet ever since news of it broke at Image Expo. Although I had been aware of his work beforehand, and even read and enjoyed stuff like Batman: The Man Who Laughs, I think what truly made me a fan of Ed Brubaker was the work he did on Captain America with Steve Epting. Reimagining the mythos of Captain America a superhero Id never found particularly interesting as a kind of spy thriller with shades of 1970s conspiracy pics like The Parallax View, Brubaker and Epting crafted a dark, dangerous world that leapt off the page, feeling utterly distinctive from the rest of the Big Twos superhero output, even the good stuff. Spinning out from that, I became an enthusiast for Brubakers work, which meant that long after I drifted away from Captain America, I was seeking out Incognito, then Criminal, and now Fatale. The more I read of Brubakers excellent works with his most prolific collaborator, Sean Phillips, the more I specifically began to identify Brubaker specifically with that Phillips style. When Brubaker works with Phillips, it brings out a certain style in his writing that fits Phillips visuals: cool, detached, a quiet accumulation of dread slowly bubbling to the surface. And thats a style that works very well. But as soon as I saw that preview art, it was like scales dropping from my eyes, and I remembered that before I loved the work of Brubaker/Phillips, I loved Brubaker/Epting.
So, Ive been anxiously awaiting Velvet, so keenly that it in turn reinvigorated my enthusiasm for Brubakers Fatale. But then something funny happened: out of nowhere, Zero came along and emerged as one of the most dazzling debuts of the year. Here was another Image spy comic, one that handled the genre incredibly well in a manner that felt fresh and exciting. Had Ales Kot and co stolen Velvets thunder? I have to admit that was in the back of my mind as I picked up Velvet this week, but I neednt have worried. Velvet is a very different comic from Zero, approaching espionage in the classic James Bond/George Smiley mould as opposed to the sci-fi tinged wetworks of the latter that seems to draw more from the likes of Nikita or the Hitman games. Its too soon to say if Velvet is better than Zero, as Zero has set the bar very high, but its definitely established itself as very much its own thing. I think there are two things in particular that set Velvet apart. One of these is the 1970s period setting, which as weve seen in the likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy or TVs The Americans allows us to explore a more low-fi approach to espionage, even if there is the occasional nifty bit of tech. The other, the comics biggest secret weapon, is Velvet Templeton.
As far as protagonists go, Velvet is instantly engaging. First off, theres the fact that shes a middle-aged woman, the kind of character who sadly doesnt get to be the star of many comics, certainly not action thrillers. Beyond that, though, Brubaker injects her with a fascinating personality: hardened, self-assured, and with just enough touches of ambiguity to make us question the reliability of her narration. Shes a senior secretary for secret spy agency Arc-7, and so at first it seems like weve got a story of Moneypenny having to deal with the death of James Bond, which as far as elevator pitches go would be interesting in itself. But as we learn more about Velvet, it becomes clear there is more to her than at first meets the eye, that she has a past that is going to come rushing into the present of the narrative. And under Eptings pen, she is lovingly rendered. Whether shes twirling her glasses in her fingers, puffing out cigarette smoke, or making what quickly becomes her trademark facial expression of the gears silently grinding in her mind as she pieces together an intricate puzzle of clues Epting imbues her every motion with an iconic quality, where she feels like a larger-than-life character walking through the story in the same way that Captain America did in that series.
Admittedly, at this early stage at least the rest of the ensemble arent particularly interesting. But as far as lead characters go, Velvet Templeton is already one of the best new creations of 2013. Brubaker has given her a distinctive, credible voice, Epting has given her a gravitas and physical presence, and together she is a rock-solid foundation upon which to build this new world. I for one am incredibly excited by the prospect of the creative minds that so reinvigorated the world of Captain America now turning their minds to crafting a new world, one that exists within a similar genre and promises a similar tone, but which will be totally fresh, totally shaped by Brubaker and Epting.
Ive written positively about Fatale in the past, and I still buy it monthly, but even in my positive reviews, Ive talked about Fatale as a book that withholds its dark pleasures, Brubaker adopting a pace where he keeps his narrative cards gripped close to his chest and only gradually reveals his horrific hand. Ive found it rewarding, but those who may have deemed it too slow will have no such qualms with Velvet. Here, we launch into action from the very first page, and the first issue is a very brisk read. Not in terms of being light in content, its actually quite dense in that regard, but in terms of how the intrigue and quickly-escalating pacing carries you through the comic. This is an immersive world, and by issues end the stakes have been dramatically raised in a manner that sets the stage for a wild issue #2.
Eptings art, meanwhile, is just a delight. The luscious cover put me in mind of the sepia-toned quality of Eptings art when paired with the colors of Frank DArmata in Captain America. But Elizabeth Breitweisers darker pallette with its cool blue washes interspersed with seedy orange hues brings out a more biting, sinister quality in Eptings visuals here, a world thats more treacherous. But Eptings gift for beautifully-rendered characters remains a constant, thankfully. There was more than one occasion while reading the comic that I just stopped and thought, This is a beautiful book! I think the framing of the page layouts is interesting as well, as for the most part this is a very restrictive comic for the characters dwelling within its panels. Lots of long, narrow panels, mixed in with a few tall, thin ones, with most pages averaging 5-6 panels. It creates a tense, stifling atmosphere, with the occasional moments where characters or objects pop out of the border generating little sparks of excitement. Its an arrangement reflective of how stifling Velvet finds her situation, which could be part of why the last page works so well. Just as Velvet goes off on an unexpected new direction, we open up into an expansive 2/3 page splash, and it looks like Velvet crashing out of the confines of those narrow and thin panels and into something wild and new.
Overall, Velvet #1 was a resounding success. Of course, I expected it to be. Image is really spoiling us in 2013 with this ridiculous number of quality comics. It seems like near every week theres a new noteworthy debut from the company, with more and more high-profile creative teams launching exciting new projects with them. Im starting to think were in the most exciting time for comics since the proto-Vertigo of late 80s DC with Alan Moores Swamp Thing paving the way for the likes of Hellblazer, Grant Morrisons Animal Man and Doom Patrol relaunches, and The Sandman.
PRETTY DEADLY #1
As it happens, Image had more than one issue #1 hit comic shops this past week. For me, at least, Velvet came along with heavier anticipation on my part. While Id heard about that from Image Expo and have been looking forward to it ever since, Pretty Deadly first came onto my radar when Image began running that teaser ad in the back of their comics. I knew nothing about the plot, other than the presumed Western setting, but that striking image of Deathface Ginny, along with my familiarity with the creative team I really enjoyed the Osborn miniseries a couple of years back, so I was already of the opinion that Kelly Sue DeConnick was at her best when paired with Emma Rios ensured I would at the very least give the series a try.
But this past week, it seems like Pretty Deadly has had a surge in press and attention, partly fuelled by a retailer-related controversy, that has arguably turned it into a more high-profile debut than Velvet, and so going in I quickly learned more about the premise. To be honest, I was a little wary, with the embodiment of Death stalking through a Western setting putting me instantly in mind of East of West, another new Image series from this year which has tread that territory with great success. Thankfully, once I actually read the comic, I realised that ostensive parallels aside this is a very different book from Jonathan Hickman and Nick Dragottas genre-splicing opus. If anything, Pretty Deadly shares more DNA in common with The Sandman. In the lyrical, seeming allegorical opening sequence, Kelly Sue DeConnick seems to be channelling Neil Gaimans fascination with the power of narrative, and how the act of storytelling can become transformative for the storyteller; a motif that recurs in various key beats through the first chapter.
By the time Id finished with Pretty Deadly #1, I found myself intrigued, and certainly keen to check out issue #2. But I didnt love it, and I didnt find it as immediately engaging and likeable a read as Velvet #1, which Id read just previously. In comparison, I found Pretty Deadly lacking in urgency, and a bit unclear and confusing in certain places: I wasnt always sure how one scene connected to another, or what significance certain characters and moments were to one another. But after dwelling on each comic for a while, it was Pretty Deadly that I returned to for a reread first, later that night. For whatever reason, there was just something about this comic that simmered away in my mind, and I just had to keep digging into it, trying to unlock it. At the time of writing this, Ive now read Pretty Deadly #1 four times, and each time I pick up some new detail, and it becomes a richer reading experience that I appreciate more and more. And I even understand most of whats going on, now. The only bit I still struggle with is how the group of bandits go from shooting at Sissy and Fox to getting shot by them, to suddenly being their compatriots and travelling with them. I think it has something to do with them actually shooting at the lizards rather than our two protagonists, but its still not entirely clear. But to come back from that tangent, the point I want to make is that Pretty Deadly is a layered comic that rewards multiple readings.
Much of the depth comes from the magnificent artwork of Emma Rios. Theres so much stuff in here that I just glossed over in my first reading, but when you really focus on the visual construction of this comic, its just a weird book. The rhythm of the comic is so unorthodox, packed with additional panels that draw out moments in ways that dont often happen in a comic book. In one memorable sequence, a single 4-word sentence is drawn out over 4 panels, all focusing on the movements of two interacting hands. And the whole issue is filled with strange beats like this. Its not uncommon to find 10-panel pages here, pages densely packed with little window-panels adding additional colour to a scene, be it a close-up of a characters reaction to whats going on or a seemingly tangential riff that takes on symbolic power. If Scott McCloud were ever to release a new edition of Understanding Comics, Emma Rios work here could make for an excellent case study on the ways art can shape the pacing of a comic.
One sequence that is already being celebrated for its innovation is our introduction to our two most prominent characters in this first issue: Sissy, a mysterious little girl in a vulture cloak, and Fox, a blind man with possibly-supernatural powers who protects her. In the sequence, Sissy sings the story of Deathface Ginny, as Fox points to various key images from her narrative on a large painted canvas. They are acting out cantares de cego, viewed by many as an ancestor to what would become the comics medium in how it married words and images to tell a narrative. And in her intricate two-page tableau, Emma Rios gives us with a delightfully metatextual flourish an exploration of how we read comics. In illustrating what the gathered crowds are doing as they watch Sissy and Foxs performance, in the form of ghostly images filling in the gaps between the various pictures Fox is pointing to, Rios is demonstrating how we as comic readers fill in the gaps between the still images on the comic page to create a moving narrative in our mind, so seamlessly we often dont even realise were doing it.
I recently watched Room 237, a documentary on the hidden meanings found within Stanley Kubricks film adaptation of The Shining, and in that one of the commentators talked about how the film works on a subliminal level, because just about every scene has an impossibility, something not quite right that you dont even consciously register, but which nevertheless sets you ill at ease. And I was put in mind of that with the work of Emma Rios here, which just has this unusual, off-kilter quality that becomes oddly hypnotic, right down to the strikingly offbeat cover. As a reader, our eyes are so drawn to Deathface Ginny lingering just out of sight above the uppermost boundary of the cover that we might not immediately notice that there are blood-red hands rising out of the depths of the water her face is reflected in.
Assisting in bringing Emma Rios visuals to life is ubiqitous colourist Jordie Bellaire, who brings out a different quality to Rios art. When Ive seen her artwork elsewhere, it has been coloured very softly, giving it a gracious, flowing feeling. But Bellaires coloring here is much more stark and barren, befitting of the Western aesthetic, which gives Rios visuals a harder edge, a rough-hewn quality that once again put me in mind of some of the earlier artists on The Sandman.
As for Kelly Sue DeConnicks writing, as mentioned, it is oblique and allegorical, the writer going in directions Ive never seen her take before. It doesnt do what you might expect from the narrative: Deathface Ginny, for example, has a very small role in the narrative, only really showcased through Sissys song here. And it almost feels like its only in the last page where things really get going. But the script is packed with little incidental details and subtle character beats that capture the interest and bring these characters to life in quiet, unexpected ways. Even figures with smaller roles leave lasting impressions here. A favourite moment of mine was the conversation between Sissy and the little boy in the house theyre sheltering in. I loved the dynamic of them both appearing to be around the same age, but Sissy being much more worldly and beleagured than her wide-eyed companion. To return to the puzzle analogy, it feels like were seeing a few pieces of something larger being laid out by DeConnick here, and in a few issues were really going to see how it all connects together.
Almost as enjoyable as Kelly Sue DeConnicks writing in the main comic was her afterword, going through her journey to getting Pretty Deadly made. And its quite a revealing piece of writing, almost framing the narrative of her life as a big journey that has all been leading to this comic seeing print. No pressure or anything! I didnt quite warm to the little prose story in the back, though my realisation that the Johnny of that story was the Johnny of the main comic narrative someone who I assumed would be an incidental figure wed never see again suggested to me this might have more relevance than it currently appears to possess.
So, as it turns out, Pretty Deadly #1 has quite a lot to digest. In truth, I feel like Ive barely scratched the surface in this review, you really ought to just go read the thing and make up your own mind. This is a thorny, difficult book, and its not for everyone, but I think if you engage with it, youll find a whole lot to admire, including career-best work from both Kelly Sue DeConnick and Emma Rios.
Sometimes you know youre going to love a comic from the second you first hear about it, and so Ive been anticipating Velvet ever since news of it broke at Image Expo. Although I had been aware of his work beforehand, and even read and enjoyed stuff like Batman: The Man Who Laughs, I think what truly made me a fan of Ed Brubaker was the work he did on Captain America with Steve Epting. Reimagining the mythos of Captain America a superhero Id never found particularly interesting as a kind of spy thriller with shades of 1970s conspiracy pics like The Parallax View, Brubaker and Epting crafted a dark, dangerous world that leapt off the page, feeling utterly distinctive from the rest of the Big Twos superhero output, even the good stuff. Spinning out from that, I became an enthusiast for Brubakers work, which meant that long after I drifted away from Captain America, I was seeking out Incognito, then Criminal, and now Fatale. The more I read of Brubakers excellent works with his most prolific collaborator, Sean Phillips, the more I specifically began to identify Brubaker specifically with that Phillips style. When Brubaker works with Phillips, it brings out a certain style in his writing that fits Phillips visuals: cool, detached, a quiet accumulation of dread slowly bubbling to the surface. And thats a style that works very well. But as soon as I saw that preview art, it was like scales dropping from my eyes, and I remembered that before I loved the work of Brubaker/Phillips, I loved Brubaker/Epting.
So, Ive been anxiously awaiting Velvet, so keenly that it in turn reinvigorated my enthusiasm for Brubakers Fatale. But then something funny happened: out of nowhere, Zero came along and emerged as one of the most dazzling debuts of the year. Here was another Image spy comic, one that handled the genre incredibly well in a manner that felt fresh and exciting. Had Ales Kot and co stolen Velvets thunder? I have to admit that was in the back of my mind as I picked up Velvet this week, but I neednt have worried. Velvet is a very different comic from Zero, approaching espionage in the classic James Bond/George Smiley mould as opposed to the sci-fi tinged wetworks of the latter that seems to draw more from the likes of Nikita or the Hitman games. Its too soon to say if Velvet is better than Zero, as Zero has set the bar very high, but its definitely established itself as very much its own thing. I think there are two things in particular that set Velvet apart. One of these is the 1970s period setting, which as weve seen in the likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy or TVs The Americans allows us to explore a more low-fi approach to espionage, even if there is the occasional nifty bit of tech. The other, the comics biggest secret weapon, is Velvet Templeton.
As far as protagonists go, Velvet is instantly engaging. First off, theres the fact that shes a middle-aged woman, the kind of character who sadly doesnt get to be the star of many comics, certainly not action thrillers. Beyond that, though, Brubaker injects her with a fascinating personality: hardened, self-assured, and with just enough touches of ambiguity to make us question the reliability of her narration. Shes a senior secretary for secret spy agency Arc-7, and so at first it seems like weve got a story of Moneypenny having to deal with the death of James Bond, which as far as elevator pitches go would be interesting in itself. But as we learn more about Velvet, it becomes clear there is more to her than at first meets the eye, that she has a past that is going to come rushing into the present of the narrative. And under Eptings pen, she is lovingly rendered. Whether shes twirling her glasses in her fingers, puffing out cigarette smoke, or making what quickly becomes her trademark facial expression of the gears silently grinding in her mind as she pieces together an intricate puzzle of clues Epting imbues her every motion with an iconic quality, where she feels like a larger-than-life character walking through the story in the same way that Captain America did in that series.
Admittedly, at this early stage at least the rest of the ensemble arent particularly interesting. But as far as lead characters go, Velvet Templeton is already one of the best new creations of 2013. Brubaker has given her a distinctive, credible voice, Epting has given her a gravitas and physical presence, and together she is a rock-solid foundation upon which to build this new world. I for one am incredibly excited by the prospect of the creative minds that so reinvigorated the world of Captain America now turning their minds to crafting a new world, one that exists within a similar genre and promises a similar tone, but which will be totally fresh, totally shaped by Brubaker and Epting.
Ive written positively about Fatale in the past, and I still buy it monthly, but even in my positive reviews, Ive talked about Fatale as a book that withholds its dark pleasures, Brubaker adopting a pace where he keeps his narrative cards gripped close to his chest and only gradually reveals his horrific hand. Ive found it rewarding, but those who may have deemed it too slow will have no such qualms with Velvet. Here, we launch into action from the very first page, and the first issue is a very brisk read. Not in terms of being light in content, its actually quite dense in that regard, but in terms of how the intrigue and quickly-escalating pacing carries you through the comic. This is an immersive world, and by issues end the stakes have been dramatically raised in a manner that sets the stage for a wild issue #2.
Eptings art, meanwhile, is just a delight. The luscious cover put me in mind of the sepia-toned quality of Eptings art when paired with the colors of Frank DArmata in Captain America. But Elizabeth Breitweisers darker pallette with its cool blue washes interspersed with seedy orange hues brings out a more biting, sinister quality in Eptings visuals here, a world thats more treacherous. But Eptings gift for beautifully-rendered characters remains a constant, thankfully. There was more than one occasion while reading the comic that I just stopped and thought, This is a beautiful book! I think the framing of the page layouts is interesting as well, as for the most part this is a very restrictive comic for the characters dwelling within its panels. Lots of long, narrow panels, mixed in with a few tall, thin ones, with most pages averaging 5-6 panels. It creates a tense, stifling atmosphere, with the occasional moments where characters or objects pop out of the border generating little sparks of excitement. Its an arrangement reflective of how stifling Velvet finds her situation, which could be part of why the last page works so well. Just as Velvet goes off on an unexpected new direction, we open up into an expansive 2/3 page splash, and it looks like Velvet crashing out of the confines of those narrow and thin panels and into something wild and new.
Overall, Velvet #1 was a resounding success. Of course, I expected it to be. Image is really spoiling us in 2013 with this ridiculous number of quality comics. It seems like near every week theres a new noteworthy debut from the company, with more and more high-profile creative teams launching exciting new projects with them. Im starting to think were in the most exciting time for comics since the proto-Vertigo of late 80s DC with Alan Moores Swamp Thing paving the way for the likes of Hellblazer, Grant Morrisons Animal Man and Doom Patrol relaunches, and The Sandman.
PRETTY DEADLY #1
As it happens, Image had more than one issue #1 hit comic shops this past week. For me, at least, Velvet came along with heavier anticipation on my part. While Id heard about that from Image Expo and have been looking forward to it ever since, Pretty Deadly first came onto my radar when Image began running that teaser ad in the back of their comics. I knew nothing about the plot, other than the presumed Western setting, but that striking image of Deathface Ginny, along with my familiarity with the creative team I really enjoyed the Osborn miniseries a couple of years back, so I was already of the opinion that Kelly Sue DeConnick was at her best when paired with Emma Rios ensured I would at the very least give the series a try.
But this past week, it seems like Pretty Deadly has had a surge in press and attention, partly fuelled by a retailer-related controversy, that has arguably turned it into a more high-profile debut than Velvet, and so going in I quickly learned more about the premise. To be honest, I was a little wary, with the embodiment of Death stalking through a Western setting putting me instantly in mind of East of West, another new Image series from this year which has tread that territory with great success. Thankfully, once I actually read the comic, I realised that ostensive parallels aside this is a very different book from Jonathan Hickman and Nick Dragottas genre-splicing opus. If anything, Pretty Deadly shares more DNA in common with The Sandman. In the lyrical, seeming allegorical opening sequence, Kelly Sue DeConnick seems to be channelling Neil Gaimans fascination with the power of narrative, and how the act of storytelling can become transformative for the storyteller; a motif that recurs in various key beats through the first chapter.
By the time Id finished with Pretty Deadly #1, I found myself intrigued, and certainly keen to check out issue #2. But I didnt love it, and I didnt find it as immediately engaging and likeable a read as Velvet #1, which Id read just previously. In comparison, I found Pretty Deadly lacking in urgency, and a bit unclear and confusing in certain places: I wasnt always sure how one scene connected to another, or what significance certain characters and moments were to one another. But after dwelling on each comic for a while, it was Pretty Deadly that I returned to for a reread first, later that night. For whatever reason, there was just something about this comic that simmered away in my mind, and I just had to keep digging into it, trying to unlock it. At the time of writing this, Ive now read Pretty Deadly #1 four times, and each time I pick up some new detail, and it becomes a richer reading experience that I appreciate more and more. And I even understand most of whats going on, now. The only bit I still struggle with is how the group of bandits go from shooting at Sissy and Fox to getting shot by them, to suddenly being their compatriots and travelling with them. I think it has something to do with them actually shooting at the lizards rather than our two protagonists, but its still not entirely clear. But to come back from that tangent, the point I want to make is that Pretty Deadly is a layered comic that rewards multiple readings.
Much of the depth comes from the magnificent artwork of Emma Rios. Theres so much stuff in here that I just glossed over in my first reading, but when you really focus on the visual construction of this comic, its just a weird book. The rhythm of the comic is so unorthodox, packed with additional panels that draw out moments in ways that dont often happen in a comic book. In one memorable sequence, a single 4-word sentence is drawn out over 4 panels, all focusing on the movements of two interacting hands. And the whole issue is filled with strange beats like this. Its not uncommon to find 10-panel pages here, pages densely packed with little window-panels adding additional colour to a scene, be it a close-up of a characters reaction to whats going on or a seemingly tangential riff that takes on symbolic power. If Scott McCloud were ever to release a new edition of Understanding Comics, Emma Rios work here could make for an excellent case study on the ways art can shape the pacing of a comic.
One sequence that is already being celebrated for its innovation is our introduction to our two most prominent characters in this first issue: Sissy, a mysterious little girl in a vulture cloak, and Fox, a blind man with possibly-supernatural powers who protects her. In the sequence, Sissy sings the story of Deathface Ginny, as Fox points to various key images from her narrative on a large painted canvas. They are acting out cantares de cego, viewed by many as an ancestor to what would become the comics medium in how it married words and images to tell a narrative. And in her intricate two-page tableau, Emma Rios gives us with a delightfully metatextual flourish an exploration of how we read comics. In illustrating what the gathered crowds are doing as they watch Sissy and Foxs performance, in the form of ghostly images filling in the gaps between the various pictures Fox is pointing to, Rios is demonstrating how we as comic readers fill in the gaps between the still images on the comic page to create a moving narrative in our mind, so seamlessly we often dont even realise were doing it.
I recently watched Room 237, a documentary on the hidden meanings found within Stanley Kubricks film adaptation of The Shining, and in that one of the commentators talked about how the film works on a subliminal level, because just about every scene has an impossibility, something not quite right that you dont even consciously register, but which nevertheless sets you ill at ease. And I was put in mind of that with the work of Emma Rios here, which just has this unusual, off-kilter quality that becomes oddly hypnotic, right down to the strikingly offbeat cover. As a reader, our eyes are so drawn to Deathface Ginny lingering just out of sight above the uppermost boundary of the cover that we might not immediately notice that there are blood-red hands rising out of the depths of the water her face is reflected in.
Assisting in bringing Emma Rios visuals to life is ubiqitous colourist Jordie Bellaire, who brings out a different quality to Rios art. When Ive seen her artwork elsewhere, it has been coloured very softly, giving it a gracious, flowing feeling. But Bellaires coloring here is much more stark and barren, befitting of the Western aesthetic, which gives Rios visuals a harder edge, a rough-hewn quality that once again put me in mind of some of the earlier artists on The Sandman.
As for Kelly Sue DeConnicks writing, as mentioned, it is oblique and allegorical, the writer going in directions Ive never seen her take before. It doesnt do what you might expect from the narrative: Deathface Ginny, for example, has a very small role in the narrative, only really showcased through Sissys song here. And it almost feels like its only in the last page where things really get going. But the script is packed with little incidental details and subtle character beats that capture the interest and bring these characters to life in quiet, unexpected ways. Even figures with smaller roles leave lasting impressions here. A favourite moment of mine was the conversation between Sissy and the little boy in the house theyre sheltering in. I loved the dynamic of them both appearing to be around the same age, but Sissy being much more worldly and beleagured than her wide-eyed companion. To return to the puzzle analogy, it feels like were seeing a few pieces of something larger being laid out by DeConnick here, and in a few issues were really going to see how it all connects together.
Almost as enjoyable as Kelly Sue DeConnicks writing in the main comic was her afterword, going through her journey to getting Pretty Deadly made. And its quite a revealing piece of writing, almost framing the narrative of her life as a big journey that has all been leading to this comic seeing print. No pressure or anything! I didnt quite warm to the little prose story in the back, though my realisation that the Johnny of that story was the Johnny of the main comic narrative someone who I assumed would be an incidental figure wed never see again suggested to me this might have more relevance than it currently appears to possess.
So, as it turns out, Pretty Deadly #1 has quite a lot to digest. In truth, I feel like Ive barely scratched the surface in this review, you really ought to just go read the thing and make up your own mind. This is a thorny, difficult book, and its not for everyone, but I think if you engage with it, youll find a whole lot to admire, including career-best work from both Kelly Sue DeConnick and Emma Rios.
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