Exit Wounds

Let me just tell you, the Time Away From Comics is not going so great. My life hasn’t fallen into a complete pile of dog poo or anything (lots of job interviews and looking at apartments), but I just flat out miss comic books. I’ve read plenty of blog posts about how it doesn’t really hurt that much to leave the Happy Wednesday cycle for a few months, but hump day just isn’t the same without a trip to the comic shop.

So, it was a pleasant surprise when the fine folks at DC Comics sent over a copy of the new Booster Gold series this morning. The series, as you probably know, spins out of 52 (such series are cleverly referred to as “52 pickup”). Booster is back, still a dickhead but at least without logos plastered on his costume. Skeets is also back and evil free. The initial fight with the Royal Flush Gang is a nice reference to the character’s origin, and just like then, Booster uses the petty bout to ingratiate himself to the JLA.

The fairly boring intro becomes a lot more interesting once Rip Hunter shows up and spouts a whole bunch more mumbo jumbo about the multiverse and timestream being under duress because of wormholes and time jumpers and whatnot. Honestly, Rip Hunter is one entertaining SOB. Can you imagine being friends with him? How off-the-wall would parties get once he showed up?

“Oh, the keg is all empty, is it? Well my chrono-intensifier will allow us to warp to the inter-space of the Greek gods of myth and steal their sweet ambrosia!!! Now pop some DMX on the stereo, Rip’s gonna get down!!!”

Sadly, the jumbled mess of time traveling nonsense that ensues in this issue makes just about as much sense as the above sentence. Which is to say, none at all. It’s no surprise that Geoff Johns is involved. Sinestro Corps aside, he’s been one of the main culprits in crafting this new status quo in the DCU, and it just doesn’t make a lick of sense. We’re all supposed to be concerned about these “time jumpers,” yet we never actually see them in action or how or why they’re jumping or how exactly this is hurting the multiverse. It’s like the writers and editors just invented this threat (also present in Countdown, et al) and just expect us to say, “Oh, okay, this is dire!” They need to SHOW us that it’s dire.

A key example of this nonsense comes when Rip explains that Booster essentially needs to reprise my role in Timecop and save all the heroes from time-traveling villains who will strangle them in their cradles, or something. Then he says they need to catch those dang time jumpers. However, their first act is for Booster himself to create an anomaly to save some people from Black Adam, circa World War III. HUH? This could all be some masterful groundwork of an incredibly intricate time-traveling mystery plot. I just don’t see it. Instead, it looks like a certain someone is hoping no one gives any thought to what he’s writing.

The sad thing is, this book has kind of a cool retro DC feel. In Dan Jurgens’ art and Johns’ writing, there’s the feel of the fun and frivolous stories of yesteryear. It’s written in a way that far too few books are, a way that younger readers can enjoy. Too bad it’s a convoluted mess. So if you’re looking for a good DC comic to share with the kids, stick with The Brave and The Bold.

By Nick Abadzis
Published by First-Second, 2007. $17.95

The Plot: This is the story of the dog launched into space by the Soviets, far more in the vein of Pride of Baghdad than the usual chipper “animal” stories. The focus of the book is summarized in the actual quote of one of the engineers involved with the space program: “We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog.”

The historical fiction account starts far before the launch of Laika, with the emotionally driven stories of the dog and of the man behind the Soviet rocket program. With thorough research, Abadzis delivers a dense denouncement of the USSR and its practice of subjugating humanity to ambition.

The Good: As mentioned above, Abadzis’ biggest strength here is the research. Laika is laden with details that sell not only the setting of the Soviet missile program but also of the personalities of the people involved (Abadzis takes liberties, of course). But, while some historical fiction wears its research on its sleeve (an academic sort of “look how smart I am”), the personal relationships are the core of this book. Particularly the warmth between a woman working in the lab with the dogs and the animals she watches. She, and others, struggle to keep emotional distance with the animals, especially Laika.

The Bad: For a book that Abadzis clearly put so much time into, it’s strange that he left so much of the art with an unfinished feel. Though his characters are well crafted and distinct and his composition is strong, his linework is overly simple with almost no use of shading. The simplistic art is almost a necessity, though, because this book is pretty long at 200 pages and has a Chris Ware-esque number of panels per page. As in, as many as 25 panels on a single page. Wow. That structure gives the book even more of a dense feel, which only exacerbates the book’s “talky” bent. This isn’t an action epic, after all. It’s by in large filled with people sitting around and talking.

The Grade: B This book strikes me more than anything as nearly tapped potential. It could have been one of the great books of the year, if not for the quality of the art. And it’s clear the art could have been better, as Abadzis a few times breaks out of his stoic stylings and creates not only eye-catching but truly inspiring pages. It’s when he digs into the feelings of Laika itself and allows the dog’s character and thoughts to grow and burst into dreamy imaginative panels that the book is at its absolute best. It’s just a shame he breaks out far too little.