[Guest review by Doug Glassman]

I’m not a huge fan of Wolverine. The character himself is fairly interesting, but when he’s appearing in ten books simultaneously written by ten different writers of varying skill, he gets diluted [ditto Batman -- ed]. While Spider-Man often has the same problem, at least Spider-Man has a truly consistent characterization, a combination of humor, responsibility and the worst luck in the Marvel Universe. Wolverine . . . well, usually he’s just a gruff berserker. Occasionally, though, there are some writers who remember that Wolverine has an actual personality. While Wolverine isn’t a draw for me, the great Peter David is, which is why his 1989 "The Gehenna Affair" (as collected in Wolverine Classic Vol. 3 and Essential Wolverine Vol. 1, among other places) was so appealing to me.

The book finds Wolverine in his days as “Patch,” a disguise so ridiculous that one of Peter David’s first acts after taking over the Wolverine title is to reveal that everyone knows who he is. For those not in the know, Patch is simply Wolverine wearing an eye patch. It’s the equivalent of Batman’s Matches Malone identity (a.k.a. Bruce Wayne with a mustache and shades). As a character points out, nobody wanted to be the one to point out how obvious this was at the risk of getting stabbed. Wolverine does have an excuse for operating under this fake identity: at the time, the X-Men were believed dead. To sum it up briefly, 1988-1989 saw the expansion of the X-Men Universe into its famous ridiculous proportions. A crossover called “Fall of the Mutants” ended in the apparent sacrifice of the X-Men, who survived in the Australian Outback. As a result, this was one of the first occasions where Wolverine started appearing in more than one title regularly, giving his desire to have a second identity at least some credence.

As Patch, Wolverine uses the tiny nation of Madripoor as a place to relax and find more people to fight. Madripoor is one of Marvel’s great fake nations; it’s essentially a lawless version of Monaco, a safe haven for all sorts of outlaws, albeit charming outlaws. Madripoor’s seediness brings to mind the World War II-era Morocco of Casablanca, which was definitely David’s intent, since "The Gehenna Affair" is a big tribute to both that film and The Maltese Falcon. There’s a very 1940s pulp feeling to the entire story, with extensive plane chases, exotic locales and just a hint of betrayal. A car chase in San Francisco also has a nice homage to The French Connection.

I mentioned a little while ago that Wolverine often struggles to have his personality come out. He’s usually written as gruff and laconic, and while the latter is pretty much correct, many writers forget that Wolverine is actually the biggest smartass in the entire Marvel Universe. He has seen and done it all, with his lifespan extending with every retcon, and pretty much nothing fazes him anymore. A page rarely goes by without him making a funny remark or pointing out something bizarre, either in dialogue or in his narration boxes. Some of this is because Peter David is a funny writer, as anyone who has read Young Justice or his Star Trek or Sir Apropos of Nothing novels can attest to. However, I find that it’s a legitimate way to write Wolverine, especially when he starts making fun of his “the best there is at what I do” catch phrase.

Like any good Maltese Falcon homage, the plot is outwardly complex but fairly simple once all the details are out. A demon, Ba’al, wants to reassemble the Gehenna Stone to access great power. Complicating things are the insane brother of Wolverine’s pilot friend Archie and the effect that the Gehenna Stone fragments have on those around them: namely, they make you murderously possessive, similar to the One Ring. Also dropped into the middle of this is Jessica Drew, a.k.a. the former Spider-Woman (Julia Carpenter was the black-suited Spider-Woman at the time). Despite being depowered, Jessica ends up being a great foil for Wolverine as the two superheroes play off of each other. Ba’al is a relatively standard demonic villain, although he does have a sense of honor and can pretend to be kind . . . up to a point. His henchmen are fantastic, however; they pretend to be vampires and argue constantly amongst themselves, reminiscent of the ninjas from The Tick: The Naked City.

The art team features pencils by the great John Buscema, with thick inks provided by Bill Sienkiewicz and a nice dark color palette from Mark Chiarello, Glynis Oliver and Gregory Wright. Essentially, this is an artistic dream team, and they created a moody, at times scratchy artistic atmosphere. Letterer Ken Bruzenak provides some angular lettering which at times seems scribbled. It can be occasionally hard to read, but I think it adds to the book’s overall mood. I personally prefer Wolverine in the blue and yellow costumes, but this was the “tiger stripe” (brown) era and they do make Wolverine look good.

"The Gehenna Stone" is an oddity in the Wolverine bibliography, but if you can find a copy of Essential Wolverine, it's well worth seeking out, especially if you want to see Wolverine do more than just stabbing people.

Coming up, the Collected Editions review of Brightest Day Vol. 2, and marking the end of the DC Universe as we know it!


Number 1005





Boy King and the Giant





The Boy King rules a country called Swisslakia, which is taken over by Nazis. (This takes place during World War II, if you haven't guessed.) He has a huge stone friend who helps him.



This story is from Clue Comics #1, 1943, published by Hillman. They also published Air Fighters Comics, which became Airboy Comics. According to the Grand Comics Database this origin story is drawn by Alan Mandel and Dan Barry, and written by Charles Biro and Bob Wood. Clue Comics only lasted 15 issues, by which time it had some stories drawn by Jack Kirby. But the Boy King only lasted for nine issues before he was gone, and his last cover appearance was #8.





























[The sixth in our series of guest reviews on Grant Morrison's The Invisibles by Zach King, who blogs about movies as The Cinema King]

For me, the jury is still out on Kissing Mister Quimper -- such that I wasn't sure exactly where to begin a review on the sixth and penultimate volume of Grant Morrison's mega-epic The Invisibles. On the one hand, the series is winding down in brilliant action film format, with explosions and plotlines resonating off the page. On the other hand, though, the series is increasingly showing signs of prioritizing mythological components without giving its readers enough to make sense of what is going on a lot of the time.

"And so we return and begin again." Kissing Mister Quimper begins with our heroes taking another vacation (a sign, perhaps, of the stress Morrison notoriously suffered during the writing of the series), this time in New Orleans. But the downtime doesn't last long -- King Mob becomes obsessed with learning what's become of John-A-Dreams since his disappearance in 1992, and the "sliver" of Quimper residing in Ragged Robin leads the team to confront the demonic dwarf once and for all. But theses missions change the team in profound and irrevocable ways, leading them to mistrust each other to the point where several Invisibles will not be back for the seventh volume. And finally, welcome back to Sir Miles Delacourt, whose reintroduction here after a protracted absence is a welcome breath as the series cues itself for the final issues, in which the seeds of doubt sown throughout Sir Miles's arc will come to deadly fruition.

Chris Weston (and a guest appearance by Ivan Reis) replaces Phil Jimenez as the regular artist, but surprisingly it's not a hit that damages the series too much. Weston does a good job imitating enough of Jimenez's style without fully sublimating his own unique lines. The results are a little heavy on the inks but a fresh new way to look at the characters as they go through their last major metamorphosis before the series concludes, although his King Mob tends to wear Angelina Jolie's lips more often than is comfortable. His Lord Fanny, though, perfectly captures the character's transvestism, and the body language imbued upon Ragged Robin nicely encapsulates all the tensions raging within the future psychic's mind.

In a sense, "Black Science 2" (a sequel to the "Black Science" arc from Bloody Hell in America) is the storyline to which the series has been building since introducing Quimper, and fortunately Morrison doesn't let up as far as the heart of the narrative is concerned. The assault on Quimper's citadel is gleefully entertaining, including a voodoo hostage crisis when Jim Crow (channeling Oppenheimer) rejoins the team. And the confrontation itself hinges on an eleventh-hour plot twist which must have made monthly readers deliriously giddy and which presages Morrison's famous claim in Batman RIP that Batman "thinks of everything." It's also nice to see Morrison tie up a few loose ends, ends which some readers may have forgotten entirely. And it's a delight to see another face-off with Quimper; his narrative arc's conclusion is extremely non-traditional, but it feels right, and it's weird enough that Morrison devotees won't feel cheated.

Unfortunately, volume six gets bogged down here and there in some heavy philosophical content which still isn't entirely clear to me on my latest read-through of the series. Elements like the blind chessman and the magic mirror make more sense each time I read the series, but I still don't know quite what to make of Ragged Robin's somewhat abrupt exit from the storyline, in which it's implied that she wrote the whole story as a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy; aside from the time-travel hijinks, which are decipherable enough, Morrison teases us with hints that The Invisibles has all been a story whose author enters the events (sorry, but I just noticed the resonance with the Morrison/Mob connection) without fully exploring the ramifications of that fact. And this isn't the only example of Morrison's ideas running loose -- fictionsuits and timesuits and an ultimately empty red herring surrounding billionaire Mason Lang leave the periphery of Kissing Mister Quimper moderately vapid.

When it's good, it's good, but Kissing Mister Quimper isn't perfect. In fact, one of the largest flaws the work carries is the self-knowledge that the series is coming to an end -- only twelve more issues to go after volume six concludes. As such, some of the character conclusions seem artificial -- Boy's departure especially never really feels right, and the loss of Ragged Robin is a major hit for the series, which somehow never really feels as fun again without someone so free to shrug off her own insanity with a quipped, "I'm nuts."

Kissing Mister Quimper closes out the second third of The Invisibles (recall that the series was originally published in three "volumes" of single issues, of which Quimper concludes the second "volume") with an actual bang -- the destruction of Mason Lang's manor -- but never fully takes the triumphant steps toward a fantastic finish, whimpering (or Quimpering) several times throughout.

[Contains full covers and recap & character pages. Printed on non-glossy paper.]

That brings us to the last leg of the tour, loyal readers -- up next is the seventh and final volume, The Invisible Kingdom, in which it all comes to an end and yet begins again.

Read Zach's full Invisibles review series. New reviews coming soon!


Number 1004





There's a Riot goin' on!





I'm showing you all of the comic content from Atlas Comics' Riot #6, from 1956, because it's great. It's got top artists: Severin, Maneely, Everett, De Carlo. It's got sharp, funny stories: "Quiet Burp," "Loona the Jungle Girl," "Pascal the Rascal."



Atlas Comics of this era can be, in my opinion, uneven. But with stories running to three, four or five pages if it isn't as well written or well drawn you're soon on to the next one, and hopefully it'll be better. With this issue it's all good.

















































Number 1003





The Mist is a gas!





Black Hood was out of the superhero stable of MLJ Comics, which after a few years became Archie Comics. "MLJ Leads The Way" was an early slogan, and I'm not sure they led, but they were pretty good followers. Black Hood appears to be patterned after Batman--no super powers, but athletic--and has that square-jawed look that comes right out of the Bob Kane school. Like Batman, Black Hood had some wild adversaries, including the Mist, who could "vaporize his body." In this story Black Hood's savior, the Hermit (see Black Hood's origin in Pappy's #382, and the follow-up story in Pappy's #467), invents a liquid that turns the Mist's gas into a solid. It's a comic book, folks...anything goes.



The story is credited on the splash to Al Camy and Harry Shorten, from Top-Notch Comics #16, 1941:





























I showed the very last Golden Age Black Hood story in two parts: part 1 in Pappy's #959 and part 2 in Pappy's #960.