Chase

Collects: Chase #1-9, 1,000,000, and several Secret Files backups (1998-2002)

Released: December 2011 (DC)

Format: 352 pages / color / $29.99 / ISBN: 9781401232771

What is this?: An agent for the Department of Extranormal Operations deals with the heroes and villains of the DC Universe.

The culprits: Writer Dan Curtis Johnson and artist / co-plotter J.H. Williams III

It’s not often that a penciler gets top billing over a writer on a book. It’s merely a convention that puts the writer first, but it’s a strong one, one that neither publishers nor readers violate without some overriding reason. That being said, there’s a short list of comic book artist who deserves to be listed first, and J.H. Williams III is definitely on that list.

So it’s not entirely surprising that DC chose to put Williams’s name first on the cover of Chase.⁶² Not on Williams’s later, more acclaimed work such as Batwoman or Promethea, but Chase, a late ‘90s series that followed Cameron Chase, a government agent tasked with keeping tabs on DC’s superhuman community. I have a feeling Williams’s name at the top is more a function of writer Dan Curtis Johnson‘s obscurity compared to Batwoman writer Greg Rucka or Promethea‘s Alan Moore. Yes, Williams is a co-plotter for most of Chase‘s run, but as an artist, he isn’t the J.H. Williams he will become in the 21st century. He even skips most of a couple of flashback issues.

That’s not to say that Williams isn’t excellent on Chase His art is strong, well laid out, and clear; he’s already working with non-standard layouts and non-rectangular panels. He manages to draw attractively without making Chase’s world artificially pretty. But that’s it — it’s pretty, not beautiful, and there’s none of the occasionally breathtaking work you find in Batwoman. (Obviously, I’m spoiled by his later work.) He’s working some things out in Chase; you can’t convince me that Williams would draw something like Chase’s clumsy hold on a pistol today. Also, Chase’s sister, Terry, is clearly v. 1.0 of Stacia from Promethea.

It’s not surprising that DC can collect the entire run of Chase in a single paperback volume and still have room left over for tie-in issues. DC’s trades are often excellent values, but Chase lasted only nine issues plus a 1,000,000 issue, which served as the series’s tombstone. That’s an incredibly short run, probably because it featured a new, low-power protagonist — a new female low-power protagonist in the DCU. By some lights, it’s a miracle it got nine issues. That’s not to say Chase deserved only nine issues, though.

In theory — at least for those unversed in comic-book viability — Chase is a good idea for a series. (It actually is a good idea for a TV show, I think.) Chase travels through the DC universe for the Department of Extranormal Operations, giving her the ability interact with almost any hero or villain. Williams and Johnson have her dealing with the Suicide Squad, Rocket Reds, Batman, Teen Titans, Booster Gold, and a couple of Green Lanterns. She has an interesting backstory: a childhood with a father who was a crap superhero, an adulthood career as a private investigator before she joined the DEO. Williams and Johnson delve deep into her past, with two flashback issues featuring her and another PI fighting the Cult of the Broken Circle. Both stories are fun, and I suspect there were a lot more stories of that type that Williams and Johnson could have told, but I’m also sure two flashback issues in the first nine didn’t help sales any. (Nor would the 1,000,000 crossover issue, if it hadn’t been the last issue.) I’m unconvinced that hinting Chase had superhero powers of her own was a good idea, but since the series had no definitive ending, I’ll reserve judgment on that.

I’m also unconvinced that the series had many more interesting stories left. Johnson and Williams told the story of Chase and her sister confronting their father’s secret hero career, and Chase explained what that meant for her own professional career in Chase #8. In one sense, the series could always have become a peripatetic trip through the corners of the DCU, but once Chase confronted her powers and perhaps her freeloading boyfriend, what’s left? I could see this being a 25-issue series, but that probably wasn’t the plan, and it definitely wasn’t what happened.

Chase’s appearances in the included Secret Files issues certainly don’t indicate there was a need for more stories. These backups are interesting if you simply want more Chase and DEO, but there’s no desperate reason for them to exist other than that, except as page filler. The best of the lot was The Joker: Last Laugh Secret Files, in which Chase and another agent, who survived a botched attack on Gorilla Grodd, interview survivors of the Joker’s attacks. The idea is better than the story, which needed more room to breathe but was still worth reading. The rest tend to blend together, an impression that is strengthened by the reprint editor’s refusal to label these Secret File stories. Evidently, some were tied to a specific storyline; adding footnotes or explanatory text would have helped clarify the incident in Kansas that everyone is alluding to but not explaining. A note that is included from the original printing of (what I’m assuming is) DC Universe Secret Files #1 says Chase’s fight with “Buzzword” (again, I’m assuming, as the name is mentioned only tangentially) is shown from Chase’s perspective in DCU Heroes Secret Files #1. However, that issue isn’t included; why is that? (Was it not published? Not very good? Not included for some other reason?)

I can see why this series is beloved by some. It was certainly ahead of its time, both as a precursor of J.H. Williams’s stardom and as a more grounded, broadly focused look at a superhero universe. I enjoyed and would read more, if it existed. That doesn’t mean the series was great, though it does mean it was better than a lot of other series that lived through horrible patches at about the same time. At $30 for more than 300 pages, Chase is certainly worth a look.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Promethea, Book 5

Collects: Promethea #26-32 (2003-5)

Released: August 2006 (DC / ABC)

Format: 200 pages / too much color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9781401206208

What is this?: Sophie is flushed out of hiding, allowing Promethea to finish her mission to end the world.

The culprits: Writer Alan Moore and artist J.H. Williams III

I really enjoyed Promethea when I started reading the series. Book One showed a lot of promise, exploring the novel (to comics) concepts of magic and reality using a context very similar to traditional superhero origins. The bloom was off the magic rose a bit in Book Two, as writer Alan Moore’s script became more concerned with dialogues about magic than with telling a story. Those dialogues essentially devolved into monologues in Books Three and Four, with any action or development⁵⁰ shunted to the side in favor of philosophy, tarot, numerology, kabala, and other religious / magical matters. The presence of artist J.H. Williams III has been a mitigating factor in the decline of enjoyability of the book, but it couldn’t staunch my overall loss of interest. Frankly, if I didn’t finish Promethea soon, I was never going to finish it.

I was curious to know whether Promethea, Book 5 would be more like the earlier books or Books Three and Four. Fortunately, for all but the last issue, it’s more like Books One and Two. At the beginning, Sophie is in hiding from the authorities, afraid to let Promethea come out and betray her position. She has constructed a new life, has a new boyfriend, and generally seems to be OK in the fictional Millennium City, home to another of Moore’s ABC titles, Tom Strong. Strong, the perfect science hero, finds Sophie in short order after the FBI asks him to, and the plot begins.

Which is that Promethea will bring about the end of the world. Why? Because God or gods said so, although I don’t remember reading that command in any previous book, and the urgency of the command seems to come from nowhere. However, I’ll admit my memory might be hazy, and stick to the book at hand. … So Promethea flies to New York and by her very presence starts altering reality. Time is out of joint; people succumb to madness; the landscape transforms into a new, psychedelic skyline. In this post-9/11 world, the heroes have to put things right before the government nukes New York, while Promethea calmly goes about her job, talking to people while the disturbances that will end the world radiate from her.

The parts with Promethea are boring, however. She smiles, and talks, as the world falls apart around her. My interest was piqued by the efforts of Moore’s other ABC “science heroes” — including my favorite, Jack B. Quick — to forestall Armageddon. The Five Swell Guys, now down to four after 9/11, wrap up a Painted Doll loose end that was buried under Promethea’s magic quest in Books Three and Four. The Swell Guys’ and the Painted Doll’s scenes are the only ones that seem to have much life; most of the rest involves other characters being confused by everything while Promethea smiles. I will say Moore has the courage to pull the trigger on Armageddon — although after Watchmen, I’m sure no one doubted that — and he wraps up everyone’s stories in Promethea #31, the penultimate issue.

The final issue … man, I appreciate Moore was trying to do something big with #32, something memorable and possibly unique. And he gets points for that. But printing the final issue of Promethea so that the backgrounds would form two Impressionist-style poster portraits of the eponymous heroine doesn’t work out so well in collected form. There is a smaller version of the poster bound in the back of the book, so you can get the idea of what it looked like in the original. But reading each page in succession is an eye-throbbing chore that literally gave me a headache: orange and blue backgrounds, with yellow and navy line art and black, red, white, and blue word balloons is a painful, brainsplitting mess on the page. You might think that 32 pages of naked Prometheas would make up for part of that. You would be wrong.

And was it worth reading Professor Moore’s last lecture? No, not really. Moore uses #32 to sum up his arguments and make one last push at convincing the readers. It doesn’t work for me because once the story recedes and the message becomes obvious, I’m much more resistant to it. If it’s the background of the story, worked into the narrative, I’ll think about it and consider it … for at least the time it takes to read the story, if not longer. If the message is obvious, I read it as the same improbable parapsychological theories I’ve read and rejected before — as I did here.

Still, God bless Williams for sticking with Moore. This had to be a difficult task, illustrating a comic that is somewhere between metatextual criticism, magical doctrine, and a superhero story, but Williams is up to the task. He apes the styles of the other ABC artists — Rick Veitch, Chris Sprouse, and Kevin Nowlan, for instance — with aplomb, and as he has shown with previous books in the series, he can shift styles when the story demands it. I wasn’t convinced by the “realistic” style that envelops the characters as Armageddon hits, and that last issue doesn’t really work on the micro level, but Williams’s work is still the highlight of the book.

Unfortunately, Book Five is just not that enjoyable. If it hadn’t been the last book in the series, it would have been for me; there’s nothing compelling enough for me to want to read on, since I think I’ve heard all of Moore’s lecture. Fortunately, the story ran out at the same time my interest did.

Rating: (2 of 5)

Batwoman: Elegy

Collects: Detective Comics #854-60 (2009-10)

Released: June 2010 (DC)

Format: 192 pages / color / $24.99 / ISBN: 9781401226923

What is this?: The new Batwoman — how does she work this superhero game? How did she get here? What is that beautiful house? Is she right, or is she wrong?

The culprits: Writer Greg Rucka and artist J.H. Williams III

To me, nothing quite says “the birth of Baby Jesus” like pictures of people being punched and kicked in the face drawn by J.H. Williams III. But perhaps your idea of Christmas is a bit different than mine.

In any event, J.H. Williams week ends with Batwoman: Elegy. Unlike the previous entry, Promthea, Books 3 and 4, little the writer does can overshadow Williams’s distinctive art.

Williams deserves the accolades he has received for his work on Batwoman. His range is simply astonishing. He shifts his style depending on the situation — superhero battles have are in a different style than Batwoman’s interactions with her father, which are different than her childhood days, which differ from war scenes … and it’s all outstanding. I was convinced there had to be guest artists for some of the issues, since the styles were so different. But it’s only Williams.

The most striking art includes his depictions of Batwoman in her battle vs. the Crime Cult. The layouts are simply unlike anything you see elsewhere, with traditional panel grids frequently forsaken for jagged overlapping pictures that manage to combine the violence of the action as well as play with the nature of time. This art is the prettiest, as well — as much as I like the Mike Allred-style art that depicts Batwoman’s childhood, few readers are going to choose it over that of the main story. Part of the appeal is the stark red and black palette used by colorist Dave Stewart; Stewart avoids muddying Williams’s finished art and manages to give the book a distinct look that readers can absorb without even deciphering the art. But even the other scenes in the book can stand out, as Williams is making choices everywhere in Elegy — in backgrounds, in interweaving symbols into the layout and art — choices that other artists don’t even consider.

Don’t get the idea that Williams is perfect; no artist is. (Even my favorite comic artist, Bill Sienkiewicz, has detractors who make valid complaints about his style.) As I noted in the Promethea review, Williams’s inventive layouts can sometimes be needlessly confusing; there were a half dozen times when I turned the page and wondered whether I had accidentally skipped a page. With Promethea, the overly daring placement of panels can be forgiven, as Moore’s often dry yet still intensely original story cries out for art that is different and inventive. Batwoman, not so much. I also have to fault Williams’s design for the main character a little bit. Starting off Elegy, Batwoman came across as a great design for a villain: that morbidly pale skin, those inhumanly red lips spread in a wide smile … that, coupled with the uncomfortable intimacy between Batwoman and the thug she’s beating up, fits better with someone who’s emulating the Joker than the Bat.

Writer Greg Rucka’s story doesn’t rise to the level of Williams’s art — of course, not very much writing in any medium does. (See: Sturgeon’s Law.) It’s not that Rucka’s story is bad; there’s nothing here that makes me cringe or bores me, and that’s an accomplishment of sorts. But the missing family member who returns from the dead to harass the living and the Alice in Wonderland villain are tired comic book tropes, and like most DC books, Elegy does not care to help you catch up with the continuity the book is based on.

There’s a lot here to like, though, although she does come across as a typical Rucka protagonist: a tough female who can deal out punishment as well as take it. There’s nothing wrong with that, as far as it goes; comics need more characters like that, and Batwoman is different from Rucka’s other characters. She’s a former West Point cadet who was kicked out for her homosexuality; although her stepmother disapproves of her occasionally outré appearance, her father embraces who she is, both in and out of costume, and even supplies, monitors, and advises her.

There’s so much to like I can’t figure out how Rucka makes me so ambivalent about the character. It’s always something with Rucka, and it’s usually something different. I’ve read his Atticus Kodiak novels, and I’ve never actually liked the protagonist or the people he surrounds himself with. I read the Queen and Country novel and was unimpressed with the story. I’ve read other comics of his, and other than Whiteout and Gotham Central, I haven’t cared for them either. In this case, I think it’s the tired family tragedy. The death of her mother and sister at the hands of terrorists doesn’t seem to add depth to the character; that’s just plot trappings that complicate without entertaining or improving the character. Nor does the Crime Bible / prophecy plot add anything, although Rucka’s choice to use that plot in Batwoman’s first lead outing is understandable. Her desire to serve while maintaining the iron core of who she is — unable to compromise on either one — and the sweet relationship she has with her dad are what I want to see more of. The rest … the rest is useless.

Based on Williams’s art, I wish I could give this book my unqualified approval. I can’t, though. I think it’s worth reading, mostly for the art but occasionally for the writing. But I don’t think for a minute that the story will be for all readers, especially those not already familiar with Batwoman’s story. And those who see something unique in Williams’s work will not see much that is different in the writing. Still, Elegy is a solid book.

Rating: (3.5 of 5)

Promethea, Books 3 and 4

Collects: Promethea #13-8 and 19-25 (2001-2, 2002-3)

Released: May 2003 (Book 3) and May 2005 (Book 4) (DC / ABC)

Format: 160 (Book 3) and 192 (Book 4) pages / color / $14.99 each / ISBN: 9781401200947 (Book 3) and 9781401200312 (Book 4)

What is this?: Sophie Bangs, embodying the legendary and semi-mythical warrior Promethea, explores the nature of reality, which isn’t as exciting as it sounds.

The culprits: Writer Alan Moore and penciler J.H. Williams III

To celebrate the week leading up to Christmas, the commonality of the books I’m reviewing this week is … penciler J.H. Williams III. And lesbians, I suppose. I’m not sure how that relates to secular or religious Christmas, but that’s what we’ve got.

In any event, I was going to write separate reviews for Promethea: Book 3 and Promethea: Book 4, but they are so similar I found it hard to think of a way in which I could write something different about them.

For those of you who aren’t a big fan of symbolic journeys, please stop reading this review now and use your time more productively. If you read this, it will be a gigantic waste of your time, as the majority of both books is Promethea, controlled by college student Sophie Bangs, exploring the nature of reality and fiction, the divine and the profane, with a previous bearer of the Promethea identity. There’s a great deal of kabbalah, tarot, language of magic, numerology, and deities involved. Come to think of it, those things might be a red flag for some readers as well.

The symbolic, highly subjective landscapes give Williams a great deal of room for creativity, and he comes through with a number of excellent layouts that are both intriguing and eye-catching. They take more thought than most comic book panels to take in, with readers frequently having to stop and admire (or decipher) his double-page spreads. Although I usually don’t mention such things, colorist Jeromy Cox has a lot to do with the success of Williams’s art (as does inker Mick Gray). It would be easy to muddle or bury the pencils under bad inks or a bad color job, given the amount of detail on the page, but both come through admirably. Cox has an additional remit: Moore often uses a single color for an issue, and working with hues of blue or (the more difficult) red seems like a difficult challenge. Cox comes through with flying, er, colors.

As I mentioned, the detail and symbols in the art can stop the reader cold as they take it in. That normally could cause trouble for the story, which should flow without having to take breaks for art appreciation. Unfortunately — or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it — there’s not much of a story here. There’s a lot of lecturing from Moore, but I’m not sure enough happens in the two books to fill an entire trade paperback. If you are fascinated by magic or cosmology or ancient mythology or philosophy, then this will not bother you. You will be able to sit back and drink in Moore’s explanations on how the universe really works, beyond the coarse world we see from day to day.

For the rest of us, however, it can get quite tedious. Moore is teaching the readers a lesson, divulging to us his personal philosophy, while the story of Promethea and Sophie’s development is dripped out to us without a lot of action to accompany it. For one book, that would be fine; for two — a year of comic book releases (or two, actually, since the book was delayed) — it’s a bit much. The bloom is off the rose of the book’s background details and jokes, such as the Weeping Gorilla and the city’s science heroes and mayoral difficulties (although I enjoyed Williams sneaking himself, his wife, and Moore into the foreground of a panel in Book 3). The replacement Promethea (a combination of a previous Promethea and Sophie’s friend, Stacia) provides the real fun of the book, but she’s on page far too little, even as she tries to wrest the title of “true” Promethea from Sophie. A simmering subplot emerges fully at the end, but still … it’s not enough.

I don’t know … I get the feeling I’m being too shallow. Moore is discussing the big questions of life, and I’m complaining about the lack of explosions and admiring the pretty pickchurs. But I know that no writer or text should be able to guilt me into thinking my interpretation is not worthy simply because I didn’t enjoy the “deep” message that was given unto me, so I’ll have to stick by my complaints. Besides, if you’re going to be didactic in fiction, it’s usually more effective to use the fiction as the candy coating to make the teaching go down more easily; Moore melts all but the thinnest patina of sweet, sweet plot before handing us the philosophy.

The art sure is pretty, though; until I read these books, I had no idea the J.H. Williams everyone was drooling over in Batwoman was the guy who had illustrated Promethea. It should have been obvious, really; innovative layout, occasionally confusing flow, with lovely drawings that lend themselves to expressive and inventive uses of the color palette. It’s the same M.O., even down to the strong female protagonist who likes to hang around with other strong females while being hunted by female antagonists. Looking at Wikipedia, it appears Promethea and Batwoman’s run in Detective Comics are Williams’s two longest runs in his comics career, which began in the early ‘90s.

It’s fortunate, though, that the plot gets going again at the end of Book 4, making it virtually certain that readers (myself included) will have interest in finishing the series’ final volume, Book 5. Since I enjoyed the more plot-heavy Book 1 and Book 2, I’m still looking forward to the finale, in spite of Moore’s philosophies and only partially because of the art.

Rating: (2 of 5 for both Book 3 and 4)

Promethea, Book 2

Collects: Promethea #7-12 (2000-1)

Released: February 2003 (DC / ABC)

Format: 176 pages / color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9781563899577

What is this?: In v. 2, Sophie learns more about Promethea and magic and strikes back at her tormentors.

The culprits: Writer Alan Moore and penciler J.H. Williams III

As much as I thought Promethea, Book 1, was an underappreciated part of the Alan Moore canon, I’m not sure what to make of Promethea, Book 2.

Ideas, for most writers, are easy. For Moore, they seem effortless. But continuing and developing the idea is often more difficult, and although I won’t say Moore ran into difficulties with Book 2, it’s not as enjoyable or effortless. Book 1 introduced Sophie Bangs, a college student, and Promethea, a fictional character who pops up in different fictional creations over the years. Sophie discovers that although Promethea is fictional, she can exist in the real world, and Sophie becomes the host for the most current version of the heroine. She learns from her predecessor and resists her enemies.

In Book 2, her training continues, and she strikes back at those who have attacked and threatened her — almost too quickly, too effectively. The idea of ubiquitous collections was new when Moore was writing, but this volume is paced oddly; the climax comes in the middle. I can’t complain about how that storyline plays out, which some might see as a letdown, but I thought the lack of a battle was a neat stroke by Moore, especially given Promethea’s fictional background.

The rest of Book 2 is more difficult. I’m not sure I can assume some parts of the book are brilliant just because of Moore’s reputation. Two of the final three issues deal directly with magic and as such are dialogues. One event takes up the first issue, and nothing happens in the second. The craftsmanship of these two issues are outstanding, both by Moore and artist J.H. Williams III (who I just noticed is co-creator of Promethea). Moore communicates his knowledge and passion for the subject. But the complexity of the discussion of an already recondite subject doesn’t make it easier for readers. I suspect that’s part of Moore’s point, that it’s not an easy subject and can’t be reduced to words — symbols and metaphors must be used. But sometimes that makes the writing come across as impenetrable or a waste of time, and all the Aleister Crowley jokes in the world aren’t going to change that. I may be alone with this opinion; Promethea #10, the first of these dialogues, won the 2001 Eisner Award for Best Single Issue.

Sophie has to deal with a death of someone close to her; I don’t want to give it away, but those who have read Book 1 can probably make a good guess. It’s interesting how quickly the sorority of Prometheas seem to become family to Sophie, especially given how little family seems to play in her life.

More difficult to deal with is how Promethea and Sophie share Sophie’s body, especially in matters carnal; I found myself a little squeamish about some parts of Book 2 because of that. Moore has no trouble with writing about human sexuality, of course, and my squeamishness is my failing. Still, he has to deal with the implications of that sharing more definitively; I have confidence he will (or has, since Promethea is complete), though.

Once again, I’m impressed with Williams’s art. The issues about magic call for a high degree of imagination and skill to make two conversations interesting (although the sex scenes in the first probably helped), and I’m astonished by how many art styles Williams has to ape over the course of Book 2. Issue #7 has digital art from Jose Villarrubia, which is supposed to be the view inside one of the Promethea’s memories; the effect nicely marks off the section, but it seems a little off in its photorealistic zeal.

The ambition of this book makes me want to recommend it; it’s a difficult read at times, though, and I hate to tell others to read it without knowing there’s a payoff. My confusion makes me rate this one in the middle of the road, with the reservation that however confused I am, I was confused by people who are doing an excellent job.

Rating: (3 of 5)

Promethea, Book 1

Collects: Promethea #1-6 (1999-2000)

Released: July 2001 (ABC / DC)

Format: 160 pages / color / $14.99 / ISBN: 9781563896675

What is this?: Sophie Bangs becomes Promethea, the spirit of a fictional character who merges with people in the real world for some ostensibly good goal.

The culprits: Writer Alan Moore and penciler J.H. Williams III

When it comes to writer Alan Moore’s body of work, Promethea is an overlooked title. It certainly isn’t mentioned as the same breath as Watchmen or V for Vendetta, nor should it, really. But it also doesn’t get as much attention as the titles Moore was creating for America’s Best Comics at the same time: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Top Ten, or Tom Strong. And as much as I adore Top Ten and League, that’s just not fair.

Promethea, Book 1, is, like many Moore narratives, a story that works on many levels. On the surface, you have Sophie Bangs, a college student who is researching the odd tales surrounding the fictional character Promethea. While interviewing a former model for a comic-book version of the character, Sophie sees the model become a “science hero” version of Promethea, albeit one who is middle-aged and out of shape. Promethea thrusts the mantle of the character onto Sophie, who becomes the new Promethea. From there, Sophie-merged-with-Promethea meets her predecessors, who teach her in the Land of Immateria about her powers and legacy.

All very much the common comics theme of growing up, passing the torch, etc. But Moore loves to play with the nature of fiction and ideas, and Promethea is very much a character of the imagination, a fictional character who can interact with the material and immaterial worlds. Sophie has to learn what the imagination means, how to use it in the material world, and who wants Promethea to stay in the land of imagination.

The temptation is to take everything Moore writes and label it a work of genius. I’m not sure about “genius,” but Promethea is often fascinating. There’s a very definite sense that Moore wants to concentrate on the value and world-shattering power of art. Moore uses the material / immaterial split to focus on how ideas and fiction affect the real world. He’s mostly setting up the idea in v. 1, but the groundwork is laid well. Moore also has some very definite things to say about magic, I think, but he wisely keeps most of them in the background for v. 1.

There’s also the idea of how different creators can use the same character to make vastly different points; the different Prometheas were all created for different purposes, so their embodiments have very different characters. Given the collaborative nature of writing comic books, with legacy characters who have been written by dozens of writers, this is an interesting issue. (And that’s not even considering Moore’s use of Victorian characters in a completely different way than they were conceived in Extraordinary Gentlemen.)

Moore even throws in a strange recurring theme of the Weeping Gorilla, a teary-eyed simian who thinks banal, maudlin thoughts and is the star of Weeping Gorilla Comix. Among Sophie’s young friends, Weeping Gorilla is the height of ironic hipster humor, although it’s pretty clearly an inherently unfunny character.

I have no idea whether Moore has the most discerning eye for artists in the comics industry or if he inspires the artists who work with him to raise their game. Dave Gibbons, Gene Ha, Kevin O’Neill … the list goes on. J.H. Williams III is no exception. He gives an earthiness for scenes set in the “material” world, and he has a more whimsical and imaginative touch he gets to use when Sophie is in Immateria.

Moore has a lot of intriguing ideas here, and it will be interesting to see where it goes, especially with an excellent artist like Williams working with him.

Rating: (4.5 of 5)