Kieron Gillen & Antony Johnston signing at Page 45 on Tuesday 23rd October from 5pm to 6.30pm! Details including links to their books and their wider involvement in GameCity7 on Monday and Tuesday, oh yes:
The Understanding Monster book one h/c (£16-50, Secret Acres) by Theo Ellsworth.
“I’m making a TV show about your painful decline. It’s on right now!”
“All of your friends are actually me in disguise.”
It is a long time since I’ve read a graphic novel so effectively singular – by which I mean of its own mind, unique.
And it’s very much the matters of the mind at stake here: the struggle so many people endure to forge forward when weighed down – when pulled down – by self-doubt and crippling terrors: the what-ifs of a fear-ridden future; all the terrible things that might happen or what people might say if you do this, that, or anything at all. It can incapacitate you completely. But if one could just turn the Very Important Corner, if one could just… take… the first… step…
That amongst so much more is buried within this extraordinarily tense, visually dense and oh-so-cleverly phrased exploration of a house whose occupants are anything but human and the rooms which we house in our minds. But this is Theo Ellsworth (CAPACITY, SLEEPER CAR, Bound And Gagged) so if you think it is even a fraction as straightforward as that might sound, you are very much mistaken. Once you start in on all the finely nuanced neologisms, you will see precisely what I mean.
““Izadore: The wall that contains your Phantom Skeleton has developed into a mural depicting This Way That Way in inner-space gear, riding an animal guide through a time-crystal field. A giant-sized action figure wearing a multi-dimensional shocks absorption helmet and holding a vehicular wizard staff is suddenly standing guard in front. – Inspector Gimble”
Stop. Fold. Send.
Yes, there’s a sequence of virtuoso, full-page spreads in which the voices of encouragement from without are presented in short bursts of electronic letters “posted” through the panel borders (or walls of the house) to Izadore who’s still struggling to comprehend his/her/its predicament within those panels.
“You really are a house. You’re a room inside yourself.”
I swear that all of this makes perfect sense within the context of the book, the precisely illuminated pages, and the physical and metaphysical quests themselves: every single one of those phrases above. Theo Ellsworth’s love of language is very much in evidence, for there are some fabulous names for the procession of arcane toys and assembled entities: Gortle Piggit, Gallaptor, Prince Bobbins and The-Floor-Is-Water-To-Me – a crocodilian creature which can surface through ripples in the floorboards.
“I remember Heptop. I remember Roytokto. I remember Nestilikose Hom. I remember Williker Nasp and the doll he created to make decisions for him. I remember Tellittome and the tiny version of himself that lived inside his head named Tongue. I remember Milna Parpit, who was the first of them to ever make rooms inside of herself so she could provide others with shelter and entertainment.”
Oh, it’s so clever and so resoundingly lush. There are textures and patterns everywhere: wool, woven linen, ornamental wallpaper, feathered scales and whorled wood. Within the ultra-inventive panel and page configurations the colours are dark and opaque and speak of ancient homes: greens and blues and rich, ruddy-brown wood and fur. Fur? Izadore first manifests itself as a mouse. Very timid and susceptible to distractions.
It all begins when the clock strikes Negative Nine.
Hipster Hitler(£12-99, Feralhouse) by James Carr, Archana Kumar…
“We totes defs doing a close-up of the SS guards. Their uniform is a total synecdoche for the Reich.”
“But mein Fuhrer, while I love the SS uniforms… I don’t think we should make it a focal point. Just look at how angular it is – those sharp lines. How dead black its hue is. The hat is even adorned with a skull! Don’t you think it looks a bit like the embodiment of pure evil?”
“Exactly! And since we’re the good guys, it’s the ultimate irony!”
I literally howled with laughter throughout this work. I do understand that whilst there are those who might feel Austria’s most famous export is not wholly suitable for comedic use, in any medium, I would equally counter that there are few more ridiculous historical figures, and thus in fact he is quite fair game. Let’s be honest, people have been taking the piss out of Hitler since the classic 1940s movie The Great Dictator starring a certain Charlie Chaplin, possibly the last other person to also rock the toothbrush moustache until Robert Mugabe… Both I should add, Chaplin and Mugabe, make brief cameos in this work to great effect! At this point, to further set the scene I’m going to quote a little of the not-so-great man’s faux hipster-bio as envisaged by the two creators…
‘Hipster Hitler. It just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it? Hitler has climbed out of the history books and into a pair of skinny jeans to fully embrace the subculture we all knew he loved. Failed artist, vegetarian, animal rights activist, asshole – it just all fits. He refused to crawl until he was four because all the other babies were doing it, and had to be carried around in a small basket which he weaved himself. Eventually he escaped his humble town and moved to bustlingVienna, where he learned how to play synth and hate ethnic minorities.’
What follows is an alternative look at Hipster Hitler’s life from his service in World War I, through his rise to power, WWII and his eventual demise in his bunker, plus highlighting his love for synth and counter culture along the way. All the important points in history are noted, just not recounted exactly quite how you might remember them…
“Well mein Fuhrer, we’ve done it! The whole world is talking about our invasion of Poland.”
“Let me see that.”
‘THE MONSTROUS FUHRER STARTS WORLD WAR II’
“Ah Fuhrer, fret not. You’re not a monster, that headline…”
“It’s not that! <sob> Those cretins… they’re calling it a sequel! I’m progressive! They could at least call it something like ‘The Adolf Hitler Project.’”
And, if the reimagining of the historical record were not enough, then there are Hipster Hitler’s T-Shirts. In every strip he’s wearing a different white T-shirt emblazoned with a Frankie Goes To Hollywood ‘Relax’ style message. To finish off here are a few of my favourites though they are pretty much all chuckle-worthy…
Three Reichs And You’re Out
Eastside, Westside, Genocide
I Feel LikeDanzig
The Impertinence Of Being Ernst
WhoseRhineIs It Anyway?
1941: A Race Odyssey
WeimarGuitar Gently Weeps
Adolfsson: Mattias Unfiltered: The Sketchbook Art Of Mattias Adolfsson (£12-99, Boom!) by Mattias Adolfsson.
See: A Hen With A Pen, A Frog On A Log, a duck that is stuck, A Dog With Eggnog and a Fish On A Dish! Why? It simply amuses him. See also: a series of Bad Posture Droids, a study of gormless mechs slouched at worryingly bad angles that are in for years of chronic, electronic sciatica. Someone tell them to sit up straight!
There are buildings, buildings everywhere on not a drip of ink: on heads as hats, threaded through branches, the most mobile of homes (on stilts that are… harnessed to cows), and may I humbly suggest that for your next international foray you fly Baroque Air? If its festooned fuselage is anything to go by, you will be reclining in comfy, velveteen armchairs in front of a blazing fireplace roasting chestnuts to be consumed with port & cheese or damson gin.
“You’ve go to say yes to a-nother excess.”
This is howling with wit. “Refuse to be a prisoner of reality!” it exhorts while presenting the new Vanishing Point 700. Yes, enhance your strolling with this rolling contraption affixed to your bonce then stretched out in front of you in two scrolling screens. It matters not what actually lies to your left or right – it could beMilton Keynes– what you will see instead you may select for yourself: Out Of Africa, The Pride Of Nero or even Gothic Surprise. Nota Bene: The Pride Of Nero may give you cause to call the local fire brigade. Please don’t.
Saga vol 1 s/c (£7-50, Image) by Brian K. Vaughan & Fiona Staples.
Almost everything worthwhile in life requires some sort of sacrifice.
“Then I offer up this.”
“Marko, no. You just took out a whole platoon with that thing.”
“Exactly. When a man carries an instrument of violence, he’ll always find the justification for using it. If we really want to escape this war, we have to stop bringing it with us.”
“But I thought that sword’s been in your family for a thousand generations!”
“It’s still just a thing, Alana. Besides…”
Marko cracks the sword in two.
“… you’re my family now.”
Alana and Izabel watch Marko move off.
“You’re not ditching that raygun, are you?”
“Not a fucking chance.”
Welcome to the most joyous, startling and mischievous science fiction epic I have ever encountered in comics. There be willies and boobage – are you bothered?
It’s about the revelation that is love overcoming ideologically driven hatred; it’s about procreation versus extermination; it’s about the insanity of war and the price to be paid.
From the writer of EX MACHINA, Y – THE LAST MAN and PRIDE OF BAGHDAD, half the draw here comes in the form of Fiona Staple’s Alana and Marko, two of the most beautiful individuals I’ve ever encountered. Their expressions are infectious, whether it be Alana’s eyes smiling up between her flop of green hair or Marko’s tearful joy at the birth of their child. Her name is Hazel and she bears the embryonic stumps of her father’s curled ram-horns and her mother’s green wings. It’s the last moment’s peace they’ll know for some time.
Marko and Alana’s peoples have been at war with each other for as long as anyone can remember. Alana comes from the planet Landfall, Marko from its moon called Wreath. But both races realised that either world’s destruction would cause the other to spin out of orbit. Instead of coming to an accord, however, they took their fight elsewhere, right across the galaxy, using other planets as their playground and even contracting out.
Caught in that crossfire is the planet called Cleave. Alana and Marko are trapped there, each wanted by their relative factions for desertion: she specifically for abandoning her post and aiding the enemy to the escape; he for fraternizing with the enemy and “betraying The Narrative”. Worse still, they have mated, producing a beautiful baby called Hazel. This unholy union is despised by all sides and, for morale’s sake – to ensure no one else gets the wretched idea that love might be better than hatred – all traces of it must be eradicated.
Prince Robot IV, from a race of walking, talking TV sets who’ve sold themselves out to the highest bidder, is dispatched to Cleave, forbidden by his kingly dad to return home until his new mission is accomplished. The “moonies” of Wreath, on the other hand, have opted to employ individual assassins: The Will and The Stalk. Both are lethal, and potentially to each other for they are ex-lovers and it’s only the first past the punitive post that gets to grab the lovely lolly.
Now, I did say it was startling, and I’ve left you to be startled: by The Stalk (she is… unusual), the Lying Cat (very, very funny), the pleasures of Sextillion (sumptuously coloured), let alone the fate of the indigenous population of Cleave.
But the best thing by far is the relationship between Marko and Alana which will be sorely tested by their struggle to negotiate a terrain they barely know whilst protecting their child, all in search of a way off-world within the Rocketship Forest. Which may just be a myth. It’s on those sorts of expeditions, under those sorts of pressures, that you really get to know the other person. Especially when one’s feverish and blurts something out. Like the name of his childhood sweetheart… whom he was engaged to!
“Alana, I was delusional! I was dying! But now I’m alive, and that’s thanks to the last woman I ever want to be with.”
“You sure? You don’t have any “unfinished business” I should know about?”
“Not on my end… though I suppose Gwendolyn might like her rings back someday.”
“You gave me another woman’s wedding ring?!”
“Actually, they belonged to Gwen’s grandparents. They spoke two different dialects of Wreath’s native tongue, so they had their rings enchanted with a translator spell. I thought you and I might be able to put them to better use.”
“Great, so we can add “scorned woman with missing jewels” to the long list of people who want us dead?”
“Alana, I’m sorry. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“Maybe. Just tell me your weren’t lying when you said I’m the hottest chick you’ve ever slept with.”
“I swear! Gwendolyn may have been tall, but her hips were boyish, not womanly like yours.”
“You know, for a pacifist, you sure beg to get stabbed a lot.”
He really does.
Valentine vol 1 : The Ice Death (£18-99, Image) by Alex de Campi & Christine Lampi.
“In Russia,this land of Ravens.
“Where the day’s high was -20F and the nights were 16 hours long.
“Where at Malo-Yaroslavets God turned his back on the Grande Armée.
“And where at Beresina even the devil walked away.”
Russia, December 1812.
500,000 soldiers had marched in from France; a mere 50,000 staggered out. Lieutenant Valentine Renaud of the 7th Hussars has somehow made it through, but right now he and Captain Oscar Levy are lost in the interminable blizzard which has claimed so many and now claims another – a woman trapped under a sledge. Desperately they try lifting her free, but the bugger won’t budge and the blood is already pouring from the doomed lady’s waist. Her escort pressed a linen bundle into Valentine’s hand, urging him to flee and deliver it to Ney. Inside is a sword and Valentine’s going to need it: they’ve been totally outflanked, surrounded by snow-blown silhouettes of cavalry warriors armed to the teeth. This is the 19th Century. So why are their eyes glowing red?
The colours inRussiaby artist Christen Larsen are absolutely freezing: some very special effects. I should add, while we’re here, that those by Tim Durning are equally effective especially during the big surprise halfway through when they alter so radically you may want to wear sunglasses. Sorry…? No, I said it was a “surprise”.
Keeping that one intact requires me keeping schtum about the whole second half, but I’ll give you a bit more of the first: those aren’t ordinary soldiers. They’re Tenebrae, as bent on extinguishing light as The Dawn is on spreading it. Two ancient factions at war with each other while stuck on the part of this mortal coil which we call Earth. The Tenebrae can take many aspects, just like The Dawn. What’s more they are everywhere, though you’ll rarely glimpse them these days. The magic, you see, is fading. And that… that’s made them desperate.
From the writer of SMOKE (long out of print) and the forthcoming ASHES comes a far-from-all-ages fantastical horror story with an evidently epic scope. I say “evidently” for I’ve not seen it online. I only do that for research – keeps things fresh for me when I review them in print. And when I type “far-from-all-ages” there are, as Floella Benjamin would say, “scenes of a sexy nature”. Also: cussin’.
If I could return to the art, there are several pages of a multi-form swarm of Tenebrae in a close-up so effective that it feels like the creatures are brushing your face. And that’s not nice.
What an utterly terrifying cover, by the way.
Crossed vol 4 s/c (£18-99, Avatar) by Garth Ennis, Jamie Delano & Jacen Burrows, Leandro Rizzo…
“So Gregory… what’s the worst atrocity you came across so far?”
“Hard to say… probably the boy-scout totem pole was the weirdest. A dozen kids kebabed on that flag-staff. Still can’t figure how the fuck they got them up there.”
“Cool… it get you hot?”
“Shit no! Why would you ask a sick thing like that?”
“Jesus lady, you’re pretty dark sometimes.”
Yes she most certainly is, our Steve, former military intelligence officer with a penchant for torture developed during multiple tours of Afghanistan, interrogating detainees. Well, just plain brutalising them for her and her comrades’ amusement, frankly. Which makes her the perfect person to survive, nay thrive, in the world of the CROSSED, eh? Gregory on the other hand is just a typical bloke, albeit with a love of the great outdoors and fishing, hunting and camping, which explains, along with a huge slice of luck, how he’s manage to survive a full year since it all began. They’ve become unlikely road buddies after a chance meeting on the off-road dirt trails heading through the countryside towardFlorida. They’re going to encounter a few more random survivors too as they head deeper into the Everglades, gradually moving towards the coast. One or two of those survivors are actually even going to be friendly because in this world, it’s not necessarily the Crossed who are the most dangerous…
Again, much like CROSSED: WISHED YOU WERE HERE, this volume, with a short three-issue starter from Garth Ennis, then a much longer six-issue arc from HELLBLAZER legend Jamie Delano, has got the franchise firmly back in the realms of sick, black-humoured horror, albeit extreme, truly horrifically scary horror, of course, rather than the out-and-out, unremittingly bleak gore fest / torture-porn territory which Lapham had taken us into. Thus there is much to find simultaneously amusing yet shudder-worthy in both stories, which are genuinely engrossing tales too, and I can therefore once again say this is a title I will be happy to recommend to people looking for something a little… outside the norm, shall we say. Also, welcome back Jamie! The plan, I believe, is to keep rotating writers on this title, but I do hope he gets another turn because I really have missed his story-telling and this title is absolutely made for him.
Hellblazer: The Devil’s Trench Coat (£12-99, Vertigo) by Peter Milligan & Giuseppe Camuncoli, Stefano Landini…
“Yes, there is a stench.
“It’s the stench of me. Of him. That ghost that lurks between blended cotton with Gannex twill.
“The auction lasts four days.
“Of course Mussie’s not the only soul who’s interested…
“But I’ve already decided who I’ll wear next.”
If case you’ve not worked it out, our narrator is in fact John’s trench coat, stolen from him out of spite by his niece Gemma, though given she hasn’t quite got over the fact she was fiddled with by John’s demon doppelganger on Constantine’s wedding day to Epiphany, daughter of the local East End crime boss, it’s reasonably understandable. It would seem the coat in question, having been exposed to all sorts of magic and general weirdness over the years, plus not least simply just being worn byConstantine, has developed a rather warped mind of its own. Free of the unconscious control of its previous owner, it now wants to have some fun and that almost certainly is going to spell serious trouble for anyone who tries it on…
Loving Milligan’s run and very nice to see a cameo from the First of the Fallen, still smarting at missing out on the soul of John’s mate Brendan, all those years ago. Meanwhile, John wants to try and make things right with Gemma once and for all, but for that to happen he’s going to need to make a trip down under (and no I don’t mean Australia) to persuade the soul of his sister, Gemma’s mum, that she doesn’t need to punish herself anymore by voluntarily staying in Hell. It’s going to require an extremely high stakes wager with a certain devil to even get a chance of achieving his goal, but that just makes the challenge all the sweeter for our Scouse ne’er do well. Of course, nothing is ever quite so simple in Constantine’s world, as John finds out precisely why his sister is still tormenting herself so long after her death. I don’t want to give that little secret away, but I’m pretty sure it’s a plot thread Milligan will be following up on before too long!
Point Of Impact #1 of 4 (£2-25, Image) by Jay Faerber & Koray Kuranel.
A young couple in a car is saying goodnight, and arranging a dinner for Saturday. Something smashes onto the roof with such ferocity they’re almost killed in the crash. It’s the body of a beautiful blonde woman, smartly dressed, and she is quite, quite dead.
Journalist Mitchell Rafferty is working late, putting a piece to bed. Thankfully his wife, Nicole, has made plans with her sister because he knows she can’t cook to save her life. When he finally gets home, he is knackered. Unfortunately his wife’s not there, but someone else is, rifling furiously through his draws. Someone in a mask with a military tattoo. It gets very violent very quickly until there’s a knock on the door. It’s detective Abby Warren with very bad news. The intruder escapes with a laptop.
Simon from technical calls Abby Warren: they were working on Nicole Rafferty’s cell phone when a call came in. They traced it. The caller was one Patrick Boone, ex-army with a record and – yes – that very same tattoo. Oh, you think it’s that obvious? Now read the comic itself: specifically the bits I missed out like, oh, I don’t know… that voicemail.
Full marks to the artist for the very first panel showing the crime scene under investigation. Immediately I jotted down a note: “How can someone falling from a rooftop land on a car parked that far away from the building?” She’d have had to have taken a running jump, which is a wee bit difficult in stilettos. It certainly wasn’t suicide. You get exactly the same sense of improbability when Abby’s looking down from above. Full marks also for the art itself, reminiscent in places of Klaus Janson – especially the faces – and Frank Miller’s SINCITY style when it came to the bed linen. Clean, crisp architecture too. As to the cover… that’s an instant seller and, unusually, an additional clue to the story.
Buy Point Of Impact #1 by dialling 0115 9508045 from a public phone booth or hacking into our mainframe using firstname.lastname@example.org
Blue Estate vol 3: Preserves (£9-99, Image) by Viktor Kalvachev & Kosta Yanev…
Alright! It’s time to get into that Blue Estate state of mind one more time, as this third volume wraps up woeful P.I. Roy Devine Jr.’s big case. (Don’t worry though, there will be more!) So, as Rachel Maddox wonders just how it’s possible her life has gone to complete ratshit so quickly, it seems, as incredibly unlikely as this does seem, that Roy Jr. might be her only chance of getting away from a total clusterfuck of a situation with her life. She’s wanted by the Russian mob who think she’s in on the death of her husband, their favourite money launderer, B-movie legend Bruce Maddox, because some surveillance pics Roy Jr. took seemed to suggest she was having an affair with Tony Luciano, the dumb-ass son of local Capo of Capos Don Luciano.
The Russians assumption, not entirely erroneous as it turns out (just not for the reasons that they think), is that the Italians were behind the hit, and now it looks like it’s going to be all-out war, with Rachel caught in the middle. All she actually wanted to do was get her real-estate-selling brother out of trouble with Tony after he sold him a house riddled with termites. Yes, termites are going to prove to be pretty significant in this volume, and more than once, as events finally reach their inevitably farcical conclusion! Good job Roy Sr. the local police captain (and a legion of SWAT shooters), who really does frequently wonder just how Roy Jr. could ever possibly be the seed of his loins, is on hand to make it a three-way shoot out to the finish…
I have absolutely loved this first story arc from start to finish, or season one as the creators are calling it. Given the current crime-wave we’re in the middle of at the moment with such classic books like CRIMINAL, PARKER and THIEF OF THIEVES, it takes an angle to compete, nay stand out, and Blue Estate is working all the angles, baby. All those aforementioned books are great, but Blue Estate has humour in spades to boot too. As I mentioned in a previous review, it’s absolutely genius to set this work in La La Land, because that city is genuinely full of characters just as kookie, whacked out and crazy as you’re going to encounter here, the city where every gangster secretly dreams of being a movie star. You’ll find that Blue Estate is utterly believable and absolutely ridiculous at the same time, and therein lies it’s unique charm, I can’t wait for season two already!
Captain America vol 3 h/c (£18-99, Marvel) by Ed Brubaker & Patch Zircher, Mike Deodato.
The Scourge is back, his purpose the same: kill as many supervillains as possible. This time it’s those who’ve entered S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Witness Protection Program, gaining new lives and a pardon in exchange for turning State’s Evidence. No one should know where they are. No one should know who they are. But one by one those most recently sheltered are being taken down effectively and efficiently. But if Scourge’s goal is the same, the man behind the mask is not. This Scourge Steve knows – he just doesn’t know it yet. As for Scourge’s handler, well, you’ll know him too – you just don’t it yet, either.
Someone is pulling their strings, and it’s whittling away at Steve’s self-belief. One more book to go!
Gorgeous art here from Patch Zircher, the nods to classic Captain America artists this time coming in some forms unmistakeably redolent of Mike Zeck’s. The shadows throughout are a perfect match for Mike Deodato so that one barely notices when Deodato himself steps up for the final issue.
Or what should have been the final issue because you’re sure as hell going to be jolted awake by what follows: the thin lines of Vince Colletta inking over Paul Neary in a reprint of an issue twenty-five years old which is entirely redundant. It if wasn’t redundant, Marvel editorial would have felt the burning need to reprint the issue itself during the periodical publication of Brubaker’s story. But – as we all know – no one would have bought it because no one wants to read that sort of drivel any more.
I have seen so much anger – both online and on the shop floor – directed towards this sort of book-stuffing Marvel is currently addicted to, and not just because it then feels justifying in charging you for the displeasure. £18-99 for five issues is a right rip-off, but it’s effectively four issues and so coming in at just under fiver a pop. Worse still, most readers don’t skip ahead, so when they finally stumble upon this greedy scam they’re still expecting more of the story they’ve been hooked on. Can you spell “anti-climax”?
It’s only going to hurt book sales in the end, you stupid, short-term tosspots.
Arrived, Online & Ready To Buy
Reviews already online if they’re new formats of previous books. Otherwise the most interesting will come under the microscope next week, while the rest will remain with their Diamond previews acting in lieu of reviews.
Mercy (£3-99) by Ray Fawkes
Alan Moore’s Another Surburban Romance restocks (£5-99, Avatar) by Alan Moore, Antony Johnston & Jose Ryp
Nobrow Anthology vol 7 (£15-00, Nobrow) by various
Not My Bag (£9-99, Image) by Sina Grace
Mudman vol 1 (£7-50, Image) by Paul Grist
The Unwritten vol 6: Tommy Taylor And The War Of Words (£12-99, Vertigo) by Mike Carey & Peter Gross, various
Mind The Gap vol 1: Intimate Strangers (£7-50, Image) by Jim McCann & Rodin Esquejo
Green Lantern Corps: The Weaponer s/c (£10-99, DC) by Tony Bedard & Tyler Kirkham
Green Lantern – New Guardians: The Ring Bearer h/c (£16-99, DC) by Tony Bedard & Tyler Kirkham
Avenging Spider-Man vol 1: My Friends Can Beat Up Your Friends s/c (£14-99, Marvel) by Zeb Wells & Joe Madureira, Greg Land, Leinil Yu
Punisher Max: Homeless s/c (£11-99, Marvel) by Jason Aaron & Steve Dillon
Venom: The Savage Six s/c (£12-99, Marvel) by Rick Remender, Cullen Bunn & Kev Walker, LanMedina, Declan Shalvey
Infernal Man-Thing softcover (£10-99, Marvel) by Steve Gerber & Kevin Nowland, John Buscema
Journey Into Mystery vol 3: The Terrorism Myth s/c (£12-99, Marvel) by Kieron Gillen & Mitch Breitweiser, Richard Elson
Deadpool vol 2: Dark Reign s/c (£10-99, Marvel) by Daniel Way & Paco Medina
Uncanny X-Men vol 2 h/c (£18-99, Marvel) byKieronGillen & GregLand, Caralos Pacheco
Naoki Urasawa’s 20th Century vol 22 (£8-99, Viz) by Naoki Urasawa
Hayate Combat Butler vol 20 (£6-99, Viz) by Kenjito Hata
Loveless vol 9 (£6-99, Viz) by Yun Kouga
Sublime reproductions of Taniguchi’s WALKING MAN in colour! I saw this on Twitter thanks to its author Rod McKie (@rodmckie, strangely) and Rob Davis (@Robgog), creator of DON QUIXOTE and the mastermind behind the equally monumental NELSON. To get the best look at each page, right-click into a new window.