The Comic Current

Once I got into a solid groove of keeping up with new release comics, I started to get excited when a peek at the comiclist.com made me realize that I only had a few books I wanted to pick up for a given week. I love comic books as a hobby, but it gets expensive and they build up, folks. It gets so expensive that I actually get excited whenever I want less comics. In regard to those large stacks of unread comics that grow on top of long boxes, my best friend says that the worst thing about comics is that there are so many good ones to read, which is a pretty good problem to have with a hobby.

Because of all these lovely books I blow my cash on, I get behind sometimes. Life gets in the way! I have to worry about work and girls and school and video games and girls; I can’t just read comic books all of the time!

I appreciate the days where I can just kick back and catch up. Like last week, when I enjoyed some sun, some water and dry corn flakes (because I’m so adventurous), as well as some solid funny books.

I got caught up on “The Woods,” and I am such a big fan. It’s a touching and emotionally resonant teen drama mashed up with a simple horror premise. James Tynion has grown considerably as a writer ever since he started penning Batman comics alongside his mentor Scott Snyder, and for my money, this is his best work yet. The art from Michael Dialynas is also sharp, endearing, and overall stupendous.

In terms of the big two, "Swamp Thing" and "Ms. Marvel" are the most notable of what I got caught up on. "Swamp Thing" #33 is one of my favorite issues from Soule’s fantastic run on “Swamp Thing”: one I think is superior to Snyder’s. Soule’s Swamp Thing opts to be gloriously moral and righteous and still succeeds against the ginormous adversity that comes with that choice. I absolutely love the character. “Ms. Marvel” continues to be a heart-warming, smile-inducing read every time it comes out, the latest issue being #5. Seeing Kamala simultaneously turn into a superhero and come into herself makes for an awesome read.

This is my second attempt at writing this piece because it just turned into a big, gushing love letter to Image Comics, rather than a run-down of my thoughts on one of its latest new series, Trees. I'm consistently taken aback by the amount of fantastic high-concept comics from this publisher, and this new book doesn't do anything to beak that trend. Warren Ellis and Jason Howard work wonders with Trees #1. I was immediately in love with the concept of this comic - an alien-invasion story about quiet, massively intellectual, and nefarious trees - when I first heard of it. Now that it's officially begun, it is safe to say it has not disappointed. Thanks to elegant writing and toughly drawn artwork, Trees' debut is great, establishing a sprawling, intriguing world without sacrificing solid, intimate character work.

The first seven pages of Trees are poetic. They form a bleak, frantic action sequence mostly bereft of dialogue that gets across the premise of the book in a diluted, satisfying fashion. There is a simply written narration that carries the action, only more effective because of its bluntness. The art is sharp and rough, creating an ominous, gritty atmosphere. The coloring only helps, with calming blues contrasted against jarring flashes of bright yellow and green. These Trees are terrifying in a way reminiscent of 2001: A Space Odyssey's Hal-9000, due to their steely, foreign sense of superiority over human beings. This opening scene establishes the human terror and disorder they have caused. After this opening sequence, we are introduced to three sets of characters interspersed throughout the world. The first and last build the world in their own ways, respectively showcasing the politics and the heady, science-fiction mystery of this future world. The middle gets more time than the others, following a young artist moving into a city rife with stimulus-overload because of the cultural disruption caused by the Trees. His portion is the most personal, and it's charming. He's a pure, vulnerable guy living in a strange, tainted environment. The quality of the art doesn't drop when it moves from action to more static, dialogue-heavy scenes. Faces have a lot of expression, and the detail-rich and visually-interesting environments are seductive.

One of the best things about Charles Soule's Swamp Thing is how cohesively and naturally Swamp Thing interacts with other characters in the DC Universe. Initially I was afraid that him taking over was going to turn the book in to a lazy venture of pulling in more mainstream characters, but that turned out to absolutely not be the case. With Soule's run on Swamp Thing, he has been crafting an epic, cool, and fun story all about Swamp Thing, that smartly fits snugly into the world of DC Comics. All of the crossover just makes sense, including the latest: a battle between Swamp Thing and Aquaman, teased at the end of Swamp Thing #31, and officially started in Aquaman #31, written by Jeff Parker.

The ending of Swamp Thing #31 gave us no idea as to why he was butting heads with Aquaman, which created some neat mystery and intrigue that hyped up this Aquaman issue. The reason for their fight makes total sense, ties back into recent events of Swamp Thing, and gives Swamp Thing a new problem to solve in his series. Once it's explained, it seems obvious, and it is hard not to see where Aquaman, the instigator, is coming from. So the set-up is sweet. The action that comes from this confrontation is great. Paul Pelliteir handles the penciling duties for the brawl, and it is fantastic stuff. He packs a solid amount of detail into his drawings, adds a lot of expression to faces, and does a good job of getting accross dynamic movement. All of the punches and throws and alligator bites are emphatically beamed out to the readers eyes. It feels good.

I am really not a fan of the concept of a weekly, $3 comic book series that is essential to the Batman universe. That's an alarming amount of money, so whenever I picked up Batman Eternal, I was totally okay with not enjoying myself, because that would mean I would have to spend a whole lot less money during the next year. Unfortunately for a financially-challenged comic dork such as myself, Batman Eternal #1 is a enjoyable start to what may very well become a special Batman story. Solid action and art compliment a thrilling and clever premise in the first issue of this new comic series.

Since DC Comics has basically already given away the biggest plot point of this comic in its "News 52" segment, a small comic at the back of all of their mainline books, from last week, I won't bother being coy and will instead talk directly. Commissioner Gordon is framed for the manslaughter of hundreds of people in Gotham, and is subsequently arrested. The manner in which this occurs is air-tight, meaning Gordon is both totally ethically clean to the reader, and totally shady and untrustworthy to this book's characters. It is done very well. Removing Gordon from the equation is a fascinating idea, since Gordon was one of two driving forces behind the functioning Gotham of today's comics continuity, as shoddy as that functioning is. The other driving force, of course, is the dark knight. Now that the Commissioner is out, a ton of responsibility naturally shifts over to Batman. Because of this, I suspect Eternal will be a critical look at order as well as a test, of sorts, of Gotham's caped crusader. Brilliantly, as small snippets of the future of Batman's career at the beginning and end of this comic show, this test may not yield comforting results. After all, Batman has often seemed to have conceded that his fear-based vigilante justice can only be a supplement to a much needed establishment of wholesome order (i.e. a non-corrupt police department). How confident will Batman be? And how will attempts to form new order within the police depart fair in the cancerous and crime-filled city of Gotham? Both are exciting questions for this series to answer.

At the end of Captain America: The First Avenger, after the titular hero defeats Red Skull and the war is won, the audience is treated to a celebratory montage of happy Americans. One piece of this montage includes a short clip of a young boy, dressed up in what looks to be a homemade Captain American costume, playing with his friends. This small bit of footage shows us a child inspired by a wholesome hero to such a degree that he goes ahead and emulates him. It’s moments like this in superhero fiction that I am reminded exactly what makes the wholesome superhero archetype so compelling and powerful; these characters represent the best we can possibly be, setting an example for us all to strive towards. 

Genuinely moral and righteous superheroes are the closest things humanity has to benevolent gods of a secular ilk. Anti-heroes like Punisher are fascinating just as ethically-questionable Greek gods are fascinating, but nobody forms their life around the worship and reverence of a dude like Achilles. No, the closest superheroes get to supremely just and loving gods like Jesus are in characters like Captain America and Superman. 

There is inherent beauty to the wholesome superhero, in the goodness of his actions along with the positive effects of said actions; unfortunately, this beauty is often trampled on by many in this day and age, with claims of boredom for justification. The notion that an amazingly moral character is banal and basic is itself banal and basic. The anxiety, stress, and even guilt associated with always trying to do what’s right, not just for himself but for the betterment of his fellow man, makes the mind of the wholesome superhero powerful to appreciate. The wholesome superhero defies the odds and does what’s right, even when it seems impossibly difficult to do so. 

There is an inescapable tragedy that goes along with the wholesome superhero, in the always-looming threat of failure. In issue #6 of Superman Unchained, Superman must deal with the crushing anxiety of being one man in the midst of an Earth under siege by the launch of every nuclear missile on the planet. If Superman was a character who only cared for himself, he could simply fly himself to a different part of the galaxy and carry on with his life, but that is simply not what the character is about. He has a deep-seated, psychologically need to help others as much as possible, even when he knows he can’t possibly help everyone in every situation. 

The beauty of these characters is that they still try to help every single person they can, even when faced with the stark reality that they really can’t. These characters are isolated in a sea of men who aren’t nearly as good as they are, but that doesn’t eat away at their compassion for those men in the slightest. 

I never read any of Brian Buccellato and Francis Manapul's Flash. I had a friend who got into comics a touch whenever I did, and it was his favorite. He whined about big dumb gorillas flooding the pages, but he bought every issue for most of its first year. I want to read their run now that it's all done, but in the meantime, I decided to jump on their promising, new project: a run on Detective Comics, starting with #30. With its intriguing setup, solid action, and gorgeous art work, this issue lays down the framework for an emotionally-resonant and chilling first arc.

Bruce Wayne has devoted his life to stopping crime in Gotham City, a place so corrosive many wouldn't even bother trying to help. We get to see just how ugly Gotham is in this comic, through characters more grounded than a man made of clay and a dude with a freeze-ray. There are multiple groups of violent, drug-dealing gangs here, one using young kids as "runners" to get their product sold. The unlikable nature of these characters and what they're doing makes the action even more satisfying, and makes the emotional bits tug even harder. Batman takes these guys down in some pretty cool ways, like when he stealthily moves himself around in the background, waiting for his opportunity to kick in a window, and when he trips a motorcycle with the string on his grappling hook. There are two new characters, a mother and her teenage daughter, who move into Gotham. The mother has strong ambition to help out Gotham, inspired by Bruce years ago. The ugliness of Gotham presented here makes her ambition all the more admirable, and her safety all the more precious.

I turned 18 yesterday, folks! I feel so much older! I feel like I can read all of the comics! And do all of the things! YES! I got a bunch of neat presents from some cool folks I love, including a copy of Swamp Thing Annual #3 from 1987, from my father. My dad was into collecting and reading comics when he was a teenager, and has a loose grip on the hobby nowadays, surely prodded along by his son's obsession. Because of this, the dude has a decent idea of what's going on with these comic books, which means he can score fun little presents for me like this. I'm not sure I can call this a good comic book, but I enjoyed reading it. It sure is a ridiculous product of the late 80s comic book industry.

This comic is written by Rick Veitch, and credits "Veitch, McManus, Fern & Woch" as the pencillers. Rick Veitch had a 20-some issue run on the series that began right after Alan Moore's legendary run ended. As stated previously, this is an annual, and because of that it seems as though this story was off to the side of the regular story going on in this series at the time. There are some references throughout to prior events, but as far as I'm concerned, the bulk of this issue is self-contained. Basically, this mischievous gorilla named Grodd uses collective unconscious-like stuff to anger a bunch of monkeys. While all of this is happening, Swamp Thing loses his memory, amidst relationship issues with Abby, because of some reasons. The comic falls into familiar retro trappings that make this a chore to read at times. There are some incredibly over-written and dull narrations. Whenever that stuff isn't on the page, it switches to some very goofy character interaction that borders on nonsensical. These interactions are sometimes compelling in their silliness, but annoying and boring in their abstractness at other times.

(The following is a guest piece from… Michael Richter)

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After a two-month hiatus, Superman Unchained is back. Going back and reading the last issue is something I strongly recommend. The book’s break did not do it any favors, and there’s a sense that writer Scott Snyder is dealing with too much on his plate. Despite all of its obstacles, Superman Unchained #6 keeps the series on its good, consistent track.

Right off the bat, Scott Snyder knocks it out of the park. Superman’s opening monologue, which is about a mattress commercial, connects with the story at hand. The commercial sends the message that Superman sleeps—that he has breaks. Superman expresses how much he hates the commercial. Superman’s work is never done, and he is never going to half-ass it.

Currently, Greg Pak is writing a badass Lana Lang in Action Comics. Well, Scott Snyder is writing a badass Lois Lane in Unchained. Lane is portrayed as a strong, independent journalist, which is very cool. Snyder owns the best New 52 adaptation of Lois Lane thus far.

Batman isn’t a main focus of this issue, but he plays a key role. As a big Superman fan, I sometimes detest when Batman shows up in one of Superman’s books. Admittedly, I can be like, “Doesn’t Batman have enough of the spotlight?” But in this case, Batman’s role in this issue makes for some awesome Superman moments.

The pacing is the book’s biggest detraction. The payoff this issue was building to came at the middle of the issue, but things got heavy again in the last couple of pages.

Jim Lee’s art fits the book so well. The action sequences are great, and Lee’s depiction of the Fortress of Solitude is beautiful.

I picked up comic books as a hobby largely because of an eye infection. I needed to take a break from my longest hobby, video games, because the illness in my eyeballs made focusing on a bright screen that constantly required my input painful. Reading is something that can be done at one’s own pace, and doesn’t need to be done with a screen blasting at one’s face. So, I picked up Watchmen, read through that, and loved it. My health problem faded, but my interest in comics only got stronger. Eventually, I was ready to move away from trades into following books month-to-month (sometimes twice a month, as I soon learned).

I jumped on to the end of Snyder’s short Detective Comics run, I jumped on Slott’s BIG TIME run on Amazing Spider-Man with the Spider-Island story arc, I naively attempted to jump onto Hickman’s Fantastic Four, etc. I didn’t jump on to the start of a run until the infinitely helpful New 52 happened. One of the comics released in the first week of this initiative that I picked up was Animal Man #1, from Jeff Lemire and Travel Foreman.

This is a strange and rather unconventional superhero comic. At times, the label “superhero comic” even seems like a stretch, and the terms horror and supernatural seem more apt. Somehow, though, Lemire’s creepy comic about this obscure hero’s stuggle with family and monstrous threats managed to become my favorite ongoing comic when it was just starting out. I loved the focus on the drama between Buddy Baker and his wife and children, and the disturbing rot monsters horrifically brought to the page by Travel Foreman’s odd, unique pencils.

Helped by Jeff Lemire’s Animal Man, I got into the modern comic book industry with a positive, excited attitude. Lemire’s Animal Man wasn’t more of the same, didn’t have a bunch of confusing and arbitrary continuity, didn’t eschew intimacy for action, and was a heck of a good read; this comic book didn’t fall into any of the traps many think comics fall into all of the time nowadays.

I read every issue of Animal Man when they originally released, and loved them all due to the consistent high quality. The examination of the family, the examination of the celebrity, all of the big, gross action that at one point pulled in the bulk of the entire DC Universe: It all worked incredibly well. As the series began to wrap itself up, several powerful things happened that offered closure for long-time readers.

The best artist on the book was certainly the original artist, Travel Foreman, as his crude and strange art style fit the tone perfectly. Unfortunately, he had to leave the book because the subject matter was too uncomfortable, considering the family drama he was going through at the time. Steve Pugh, who actually did Animal Man art in the past, did an great job with grotesque drawings of his own, but his more technically clean style didn’t have the same magic as Foreman’s art. Raphael Albequerque came closer with the few issues he did for the series torwards its end, with weird drawings that brought on a similar tone as that of Foreman’s work.

The last issue of Animal Man pulls in Travel Foreman for around half of the pages, with Lemire himself doing the rest. Animal Man #29 ends the series in a beautiful fashion, essentially recapping everything through a bedtime story from Buddy’s daughter, Maxine. Foreman handles the art for the regular scenes, while Lemire illustrates the story Maxine tells. It’s a brilliant idea and it is executed wonderfully; it is very heartwarming.

I was very skeptical and critical of Superman Wonder Woman when it started to release. Some issues made me groan at New 52 continuity, and some issues made me wish there was a bit more of a focus on the woman over the man. I also thought that the book would have too much action at the expense of romance, but that is a concern that hasn't really panned out, as the two are pretty evenly handled. The truth of the matter is that I learned to really love this series, mostly do that even mix of action and romance that expertly creates a fun, invigorating experience. Superman Wonder Woman #6, the last issue to the first arc, is the best issue so far, with its intriguing reveal, enthralling final showdown, and sweet, affirming ending.

Our superheroic couple has been battling Superman villains throughout the majority of this series, which has been fine besides the jarring nature of putting a bit more of a focus on Superman over Wonder Woman. This issue fixes that problem, however, with an interesting reveal that brings in some villainy from Wonder Woman's rogue gallery. The involvement of these baddies was clearly saved for this issue for the sake of an enjoyable surprise; the surprise is definitely enjoyable and makes this issue rock even harder, but it is unfortunate that it was done this way. This isn't gonna be much of a problem when read as an arc, but this method didn't make the past issues any less jarring when they originally released. But the present is the present! Now is now! The past is the past! Then is then! What a great comic book this is. Superman and Wonder Woman both rock suits specifically designed by an ally of WW's, and they are quite awesome. Not only do they look cool, with loads of gold trim and silvery shimmer, but they function in a way that is both clever and cool. Tony Daniels continues what is probably the best work of his career with some stellar drawings of these dudes and dudettes punching each other. It's packed with detail and gets across motion and facial expression elegantly, on top of simply being sharp and solid looking. One particular page is neat, as it is filled with twelve panels of close-up, brutal action.

Brian K Vaughn is currently known as the all-star writer on the critically-acclaimed, fan-favorite comic book Saga from IMAGE. This incredibly-talented guy has a pretty big and prolific history in the realm of comics, so he was known for quite a few projects before Saga. One of those projects, perhaps his most renowned, is Y, The Last Man. This creator-owned comic from Vaughn along with artist Pia Guerra has lit the comics community aflame with admiration, and has even garnered high, mainstream praise from dudes like Stephen King. Y, The Last Man is amazing; it has a sprawling scope, it is full of fascinating examination of gender issues amongst other cultural issues, it is tons of fun, and it really is wholesome.

Y, The Last Man follows Yorick Brown and his pet monkey Ampersand, the only two creatures with Y chromosomes left alive after a massive plague. Yorick is a quirky and smart English major doling out his life as an escape artist. Soon enough, Yorick finds himself with a solid cast of a few leading ladies and a slew of supporting characters. Agent 355 and Allison Mann tag along with Yorick throughout the bulk of the 60 issue series, and each are very complex and interesting. Agent 355 is a steely and badass government agent with a considerably rough background; seeing her coldly handle the worst of situations is compelling, and especially compelling when stacked up against the moments in which she does bend and let the emotions pour out. Allison Mann is a mildly-eccentric and wildly-intelligent scientist with a strict conscience and an undying desire to be impressive; seeing her mind working hard is compelling, and especially compelling when stacked up against the moments in which she can’t work her mind as hard as she wants to.

A world full of deep and palpably extreme religious and political conflict is in full swing in Y, The Last Man. It’s not all that realistic, but it’s absolutely believable. Conventional society has crumbled and reformed in a way that makes sense and is very easy to imagine. Governments and religious institutions have reformed to accommodate a world without men, and some have even formed in response to the plague. It’s enthralling to read about a Christianity forced to strip itself of patriarchy, but it’s also enthralling to read about a group like the Amazons, who believe that the plague is a benevolent act from a matriarchal goddess. Humanity’s nature to make with what it has, to divide and conquer, and to withhold establishments are presented here awfully well, and in a large, sprawling fashion.

A myriad of cultural issues are examined and presented in this comic, but it certainly doesn’t preach and doesn’t even seem to seek to persuade the reader in any way regarding these issues. For example, when the comic shows us this new world bereft of the vast majority of pilots, electricians, truck drivers, etc., it’s not really saying we need more women in those fields, or that stigmatization prevents women from entering these fields, it’s just presenting a stark reality. This fair and balanced examination and presentation is prevalent throughout the comic on issues of sexuality, violence, depictions of the genders in media, and more. There’s a lot to chew on, and Vaughn’s likely-nuanced opinion isn’t evident to run the risk of fogging up your own path to your own perspective.  

There is a lot of stuff here to enjoy on a higher, critical level, but that doesn’t mean Y, The Last Man doesn’t know how to have fun. This comic is full of ninjas, ridiculous government conspiracy, references to popular comics, action sequences, and goofy humor. The art is styled in a way that is reminiscent of older, light-hearted comics, which is pleasant. Like Dave Gibbon’s art in Watchmen, Pia Guerra’s pencils are technically perfect, but devoid of much flair in order to put emphases on the story. However, Vaughn and Guerra do know how to effectively use splash pages for the most shocking moments, including many of the last page reveals. The gorgeous covers from various artists have tons of flair to be marveled too, as opposed to the interiors. Y, The Last Man proves that the comic book medium doesn’t have to strip itself of its common quirks to be valuable as art; Y, The Last Man rejects the opportunity to attempt to ashamedly elevate itself above its own medium, and instead champions it.

I'm not sure if you kids know, but there is a film coming out in August called Guardians of the Galaxy, about a ragtag team of superheroes by the same name. That Parks and Recreation guy Chris Pratt is the main character; a dude named Peter Quill, aka Star-Lord. It also stars Bradley Cooper doing the voice of a freakin' machine gun-wielding raccoon named Rocket Raccoon, and Vin Diesel doing the voice of a tree-man named Groot! What a wondrous world we live in. I'm a fan of the trailer released a week or so ago. You can catch it here if you like:

I've been wanting to check out the "Marvel Now!" Guardians of the Galaxy series for awhile, and this trailer is what it took to push me over the edge and give the first trade a purchase on Comixology - only $11 for the first four issues and all four of the Marvel Infinity digital comics, by the way. I really enjoyed it! Exemplary writing from Brian Michael Bendis meshes wonderfully with the incredibly cool characters and large scifi-scale of the book.

The first issue of this series is a #.1 issue detailing the origin of Peter Quill, and it is done very well. It efficiently tells the reader exactly what he needs to know about the main character, with only the most important and emotional facets present. After that issue is when the premise for this series is really established. Quill's father is making deals with rulers of various, mind-blowingly large sectors of the galaxy that intentionally throw Earth, and the Guardians under the bus. It's up to the Guardians of the Galaxy, along with help from Iron Man, to protect earthlings. One of two concepts I really love in this first trade is the awe-inspiring scale, which puts the big events of the Marvel universe into perspective. Quill's father is able to make a very convincing case that this fictional Earth is not only incredibly strange and unique compared to the rest of the galaxy, but he also compellingly frames it as a liability. In comics, we often are thrown into the thick of large conflicts, but this comic shows us an external, third-party perspective. It's fascinating, and cool.

The other thing I really love is the characterization of these Guardians, especially in regard to how they interact with each other. All of them are essentially one-of-a-kind misfits, who all find solace together as a goofy superhero team. It's intrinsically pleasurable to see the ostracized and abnormal empowered in such a colorful way. The art is great. It is packed with detail and color, gets across motion very well, and effectively emotes the characters. The book is well-written and plotted, with the signature mix of comedy, drama, and action that Bendis has down to a science. There is a lot of action in this book, and like most good action, it succeeds because it really makes use of what makes these characters cool in the action itself. The splashes of Groot shouting "I AM GROOT!" as he goes all tree on people is made especially awesome because he's a simple, odd, and good-natured character, for example.

Matt Murdock recently outed himself as the man without fear in Mark Waid’s Daredevil. He did this because of the principled notion that if he is going to uphold lawful justice, he can not lie and abuse the system anymore. He has to be strong, and throw himself under the bus for what he believes in. He has to declare…

Issue #36 is an absolutely excellent and fitting way to end this volume of Daredevil, and this page is a just-about perfect encapsulation of it all. With the first 27 issues, Waid confirmed that Matt is not one to be dragged down by negativity, and that he is very much capable of doing what he feels he has to do. Issues #28 through #36 confirm exactly what it is that he feels he has to do.

Matt Murdock has to do whatever he can to proliferate justice; this means approaching past personal failures without fear isn’t a problem, because he is Daredevil.

When I was in 10th grade, I took a Creative Writing class that bloated my ego to such a degree that I believed I was capable of writing a novel. My novel was going to be entitled Interlocked. It was going to be a series of interconnected stories about a wide variety of people who each feel lost, aimless, and isolated. The overarching story was intended to let the characters, and the reader, know that we are all interlocked. I think this is a comforting, universal feeling that allows us to all feel as though we are one with each other, a feeling that transcends religious faith. Joey Esposito, comics-reporter/critic turned full-time comics creator's new comic, Pawn Shop, is written in a similar vein. Pawn Shop has four chapters, each following a different lost soul in New York City. Each of their stories are incidentally connected to each other, mostly through a pawn shop located in the city. I was able to read through all of Pawn Shop, and I absolutely love it; rough realism contrasts against genuine positivity to create a truly endearing, moving comic book experience.

One of the most impressive aspects of Pawn Shop is the vividly crafted portrayal of city life. A city setting really accentuates the interlocked nature of life, due to its densely packed mass of varied, colorful people. The best narration in this story may just be the one in the second chapter comparing a man in the city to a metal ball in a pinball machine, both with an initially preset path that is interrupted by a long string of unpredictable obstacles. The character realizes this, but smartly realizes that life isn't made any less worth living because of that. That's really the theme of Pawn Shop; life is complex, and tough, but we're all in this crazy pinball machine together, and all we can do is try to get as high of a score as possible.

Esposito displays an uncanny ability to build the reader back up from being brutally broken down. Harsh writing bluntly reveals ugly stories from these characters' pasts, in the most heart-breaking of ways. This stuff hurts as much as it does because it isn't mundane enough to be ineffective, and it isn't excessive enough to be seen as unrealistic. The characters and their problems are entirely realistic, which makes reading about them all the more compelling. So, when something finally clicks with these beaten down people, and they do something in their respective lives to help themselves, it feels incredibly good. These characters are just like the rest of us. When I read each of them doing something to drastically improve their own lives, I found it viscerally hard to believe that I couldn't do the same for my own life. That's the magic of Pawn Shop. When it comes to the quality of the craft of the writing and art, I am similarly pleased. Dialogue is honest and real, and the narrations are perfectly designed to respectively punch one in the gut and tug at one's heart-strings. There are a myriad of moments in which our characters pretty strongly affect each other, often without even really knowing, and these moments are intrinsically fun and exciting to read. The artwork from Sean Von Gorman with Jonathan Moore perfectly suits the mood this comic is trying to create. It's a simple, and mildly crude style with a beautiful painted aesthetic. Emotion from facial expressions bleeds off the page. It's very easy-to-look at, intimate artwork.