I believe these two stories were some of the first work by Ralph Reese I ever saw, when they appeared in Web of Horror in 1970. The magazine was published by Cracked “mazagine” publisher Bob Sproul.

Reese had worked with Wally Wood, and had picked up on the use of toning sheets including Grafix (formerly Craftint), a chemically treated drawing paper. The artist applied a chemical with a brush and the tones appeared. It was widely used for black line reproduction, and even some four-color work at times, but is no longer being manufactured. In the Yeti story Reese used an ink wash. Reese's use of such techniques complements his dramatic illustrations. Web of Horror featured some seasoned pros like Syd Shores and Norman Nodel, as well as a new breed of dynamic younger artists like Bernie Wrightson, Mike Kaluta and Ralph Reese. I wish it would have continued past three issues.

A few years later these stories, among others by Reese, were colored and published in a two-issue mini-series, Reese's Pieces, by Eclipse Comics.

These stories were written by longtime author and comic book scripter Otto Binder. They're from issues #2 and #3:

[Guest reviewer Zach King blogs about movies as The Cinema King]

I've spent the last few reviews in this series pulling apart DC's "Greatest Stories" trades, which centered around a single character (or a legacy character), but now it's time to see these folks in action -- especially with Marvel's "other team" recently debuting in their own movie. Let's join JLA: The Greatest Stories Ever Told!

I'm not expecting to see Antarctica or Detroit in these pages, nor am I expecting much diversity in the cast. The greatest JLA stories, after all, have almost always included the Big Seven. Ultimately this volume needs to contain stories in which every JLA member plays an important role, in which the team aspect of the group is emphasized. It's especially interesting that this is the only "Greatest Stories" collections which directly invokes continuity by linking the contained stories to "mega-popular hits like Identity Crisis!"

The sum of the parts being more than the whole in this series, let's take a look at what's inside this volume.

"Origin" (Justice League of America #200, March 1982): I'm still puzzled at how the editors choose the first story of these volumes. Sometimes it's the first appearance; sometimes it's a terse retelling of that story. Here we have a case of the latter, by Gerry Conway and George Perez. There's nothing wrong with this, but it seems included just so we get some Perez in this volume.

"The Super-Exiles of Earth" (Justice League of America #19, May 1963): The first full story in the volume is better than I was expecting. A lot of Silver Age JLA stories might get a bad rap for being overwrought and a bit improbable, but this one is actually exciting. The JLA are exiled from earth after evil doppelgangers besmirch their good names. I was riveted to find out what was actually going on here, so major kudos to Gardner Fox for a story that's held up for almost 50 years. (I won't spoil it here, of course!) Sadly, Aquaman gets no love here, since he's relegated to a spaceship for the entire story simply because he doesn't have a secret identity; characters keep referring to his absence, which made me think he was going to come back and save the day, but it seems Aquaman's real secret identity is Rodney Dangerfield -- can't get no respect.

"Snapper Carr -- Super Traitor" (Justice League of America #77, December 1969): Dennis O'Neil pens this deceptively strong story in which the JLA is targeted by the mysterious John Dough, champion of the average. The story starts off as extremely dated, with team "mascot" Snapper Carr and Dough swapping 1960s slang, but O'Neil quickly gains control of the story by making Dough an architect of anarchy. The story contains the classic JLA trope of "villain underestimating Batman" (which Grant Morrison later used to great effect in his JLA run), but it never feels hackneyed or implausible -- especially once the truth about John Dough is revealed, a twist O'Neil handles with aplomb. Only two problems occur to me: one, it's extremely bizarre to hear the ultra-liberal Green Arrow quote Ayn Rand on the virtues of individualism; and two, the art by Dick Dillin is merely serviceable until the very end, when his final pencilwork on John Dough bungles the character's visual such that he's almost unrecognizable. Otherwise, a solid tale -- two in a row!

"The Great Identity Crisis" (Justice League of America #122, September 1975): There's no question this story is in the collection as a kind of exclamation, "I got your Identity Crisis right here!" But only superficial similarities persist; we have Dr. Light manipulating the League, but this time it's Light doing the mindwiping, rewiring the Leaguers' brains so that their secret identities get jumbled (i.e., Bruce Wayne thinks he's Oliver Queen, etc.). The "greatest" element here is undoubtedly the moment when Superman emphasizes the necessity of learning each other's alter egos, but this story isn't quite as enjoyable as the prior two; it's a bit muddy, the threat doesn't seem that significant or dangerous, and the resolution is too speedy -- a clever concept by Martin Pasko but without much punch or pizzazz.

"The League that Defeated Itself" (Justice League of America #166-168, May-July 1979): Here we come to the first truly disappointing story in the volume, a Gerry Conway/Dick Dillin tale in which the Secret Society of Super-Villains (The Wizard, Professor Zoom, Star Sapphire, Plantmaster [Jason Woodrue], and Blockbuster) swap brains with the League. As the Mike Tiefenbacher introduction points out, this is the same Secret Society which returns after Identity Crisis to plague our heroes, but the story here is overlong and not especially well-executed. The idea is sound, but the villains are uninspiring, and it's sometimes unclear who's being possessed by whom. Dillin's artwork has by leaps and bounds improved since "Super Traitor," but I would have preferred a bigger threat (where's Lex Luthor in this volume, for example?) to match the "Greatest" banner. Aquaman's presence is actually missed here, especially since Red Tornado essentially plays his role by falling down on the job and incessantly castigating himself for it.

"Born Again" (Justice League #1, May 1987): With nary a "Bwa-ha-ha" in sight, the first issue of the Giffen/DeMatteis JL (no A) reboot still holds up very well, capturing much of what was best loved about this series -- the off-kilter humor, the brilliant character dynamics, the attention to super-heroics. While I might have chosen the "moving day" issue of JLI to exemplify better the humor present in the series, there isn't much to complain about with this one. It's a great encapsulation of an era much loved despite a concept that could have earned the malignment of the entire fan community. Poking fun at the Justice League? Unthinkable! Yet Giffen and DeMatteis, replete with the exquisite facial expressions rendered by Kevin Maguire, pulled it off. The only bad part about this inclusion is that it'll remind you how there are still a few uncollected volumes out there (a tender subject on this site, I know). [Don't get me started! -- ed]

"Star-Seed" (JLA Secret Files #1, September 1997): Readers of this blog will know I have only good things to say about Grant Morrison, who penned this update on the Starro saga, but despite your knowing I'll glow about this one, here goes. In Morrison's nostalgic-revisionist pattern, the JLA encounters Starro, ostensibly for the first time and against the advice of The Spectre, who would rather see Blue Valley destroyed -- untenable collateral damage in the eyes of the League. The art by Howard Porter recalls the best of the "Big Seven" era, rendering our protagonists as larger than life and rippling with bulging muscles. I'm torn on this story because its apparent weakness is that Batman defuses the threat almost by himself and without much exertion. Yet this is precisely what I've always loved about Morrison's DC work -- his Batman is indomitable and indefatigable. Is it a great JLA story? The way in which they circumvent The Spectre's prohibition is clever and very much worthy of inclusion, but in the final battle it's really a Batman story in which the other Leaguers serve only as (useful) distractions.

"Two-Minute Warning" (JLA #61, February 2002): This Joe Kelly/Doug Mahnke rectifies Morrison's narrowed focus by giving the League a battle they all need to fight (giant sea monsters, and with the JLA sans Aquaman, no less), but I suspect this story is included because it shows all the Leaguers summoned from quotidian peacetime into conflict -- a side we rarely see when the heavyhitters get together. Kelly does well recording each Leaguer's voice outside of character (save Batman, who appropriately never leaves character), and Mahnke's hyper-detailed "ugly art" captures the grotesque nature of the awful beasts and their monstrous leader. Even Plastic Man gets a moment to shine, and the story's conclusion with the Martian Manhunter on monitor duty reminds us of the neverending battle.

Ultimately, I'm a little disappointed we didn't get the original Starro story (though I'll never complain about a Morrison update), simply because it might have showed how much the JLA changed from their inception to the Morrison age. I probably would have replaced the overlong "League that Defeated Itself" with a few shorter and snappier stories, but overall this was an exceptionally exciting volume, with great stories representing each important era of "the Big Seven."

Of special interest to the collection-minded on this site (i.e., all of us), the glue on JLA: The Greatest Stories Ever Told's binding was particularly weak, falling apart by the time I finished reading the first time. Now the volume resembles a hardcover with a slipcover, the meat of the book having fallen out from between the covers in one brick.

More Greatest Stories reviews: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and Flash.

Next time in this series, I'll invoke the name of the wizard and call down the lightning with Shazam!: The Greatest Stories Ever Told. See you then!

Coming up next week, the Collected Editions New 52 reviews of Men of War and Batwing.

[Guest review by Doug Glassman.]

My favorite indie comic is The Wretch. You probably haven’t heard of it.

Hipster humor aside, back in the summer of 2003, I was still in high school and still very new to comics. To this day, I consider this summer to be the most important in my life; it began with an abortive move to Baltimore, lasted over the six-week program that made me fall in love with Penn State, and ended in my father’s death. During that summer, I also bought the two trades that would eventually turn me into a comic book collector. It began with the first trade of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and while collecting the issues of the second volume, I found an ad for Slave Labor Graphics and Amaze Ink in the bag. Flipping through, I saw various horror themed comics that didn’t seem particularly interesting to me. And then, right at the end ... there was the first volume of The Wretch.

Created by Phil Hester, the Wretch’s adventures stretched over two all-too-brief series and short stories from publications like Negative Burn. When I saw the solicitation for The Wretch Volume One: Everyday Doomsday, I was immediately fascinated. It told of a dark superhero with no known identity in what TV Tropes would call a “Crapsack World.” They thankfully had a copy at the Comic Swap in State College, and it became a crucial book for me. I even used it in the mythology course I was taking for college credit.

“Superhero” is a loose way to describe the Wretch. He’s a hero, to be sure, but he’s closer to a mythological trickster figure. A typical Wretch story goes as follows: someone in Glass City is having a tough time, usually involving violence. The situation gets worse due to supernatural involvement. The Wretch appears and comes up with an inventive way to end the conflict and administer justice. Despite being little more than an ink splotch with eye spots and bandages at times, the Wretch never comes across as sinister. He’s creepy, to be sure; in fact, “The Creep” was Hester’s original name for him. But there’s never any doubt that, aside from some unusual tactics, the Wretch is on the side of good.

Hester’s Glass City is an incredible setting. It’s in a perpetual late '70s/early '80s, reflecting Hester’s own Midwestern childhood. Usually, the city is either burning in summer or drowning in a snowy winter, with the extremes creating boredom, fatigue, bigotry, and anger. Its children strive through an uphill struggle against personal demons, not to mention the actual demons residing in pawn shops, haunted church buses, and crystal balls. This is all capped off by Hester’s art, which never really shows the full city, instead showing sparse bits of it at a time. Glass City isn’t Gotham or Marvel’s version of Manhattan; there’s no real culture, just people trying to get through the day with a little help from their friend.

Everyday Doomsday collects six stories, with an intro page by Hester giving a few details and highlighting the work of contributors, including long-time collaborator Ande Parks. The first story, “The End of the World,” is described by Hester as being a template to introduce new readers to the series. Slave Labor Graphics decided to publish the stories in an odd order, with the very first ones coming out in the last volume.

“The End of the World” does to a great job of establishing the Wretch, Glass City, its inhabitants, and the kind of villains we’ll come to expect. A crazed pawn shop owner has stolen items from every inhabitant of the city to create a sort of pop-culture world-destroying golem. It’s structured similarly to a Batman story, with the perspective character being a slacker teenager who’s just trying to get his stolen comic book back.

"Bad Dog,” the next story, is when the fable format is established, as a striking worker’s son longs for a dog, and gets a toy one from the Wretch. Unfortunately, his anguished father runs it over with his lawn mower, creating a massive monster-dog which absorbs the hate of the workers and the scabs sent in to replace them. “Snow” follows an eternally cold bigot as we learn about his murder of his daughter’s African-American lover. The story takes a bit of a Twilight Zone twist as the Wretch brings back the wronged party and allows him to take his vengeance. “The Church Bus,” based on a similarly creepy bus from Hester’s childhood, has the Wretch chase after a kidnapped kid, literally using the power of imagination to return from his own destruction.

The last two stories are the ones that really keep The Wretch elevated in my mind. “White Lie” follows five kids as they use a Magic 8-Ball-style crystal ball provided by their therapist, which preys on their fears. I bought this book about a month and a half before my father died, and one of the sub-stories in this tale is so eerily reminiscent of my life that it’s taken me years to build up the courage to review this book. The Wretch shores up the kids’ courage and takes out the demon within the crystal ball in a very satisfying sequence. It’s a shame that Hester never really created any continuity for the series (short of a pair of stories in the second volume), because I would love to see these kids ten years down the line.

“Doomsday” is a massive change of style for Hester, as he goes for a full-on Jack Kirby homage with the Galactus-esque Executioner. He succeeds, imitating the grandiose dialogue and uniquely blocky Kirby artwork. The Wretch even turns himself into a facsimile of Captain Marvel to act as the Earth’s legal defender, and wins ... with the words of Kurt Vonnegut. I’m not going to tell you how the words are delivered, because it’s one of the silliest yet greatest ways I’ve seen a battle won in comics. The Wretch never actually speaks, instead using gestures, written means, and a bit of telepathy, and it’s a neat story constraint that Hester put on himself.

As far as storytelling goes, The Wretch is the rubric I use when reviewing other books and in my own writing. If you can find Everyday Doomsday, make sure to pick it up. Even if you don’t establish a personal connection, like I did, I think you’ll still enjoy it. All three collections are difficult to find, and I hope Slave Labor Graphics and Amaze Ink will put together a larger omnibus collection.

Last Friday in Pappy's #1211 I showed a story the late Joe Kubert drew when he was in his teens, and today a Russ Heath story, drawn in 1967. I link Heath and Kubert in my mind, if only because they shared space for so long in DC's war comics. But also because I love Heath for the same reasons I love Kubert: mastery of the comic art form, and one hell of a great storyteller.

Star Spangled War Stories finds Heath doing another dinosaur tale for editor/writer Bob Kanigher. For several years at DC it wasn't enough for American GI's in World War II to fight tenacious enemies like the Germans and Japanese...they also had to fight dinosaurs. At the time I thought it was just hokum, but nowadays I see it in a different light. In the words of Bob Dylan, “I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.” At my current age I'm just right mentally for the stuff I was too mature for at twenty.

The Tyrannosaurus on the cover and splash page is a big red dino, like the big red Devil Dinosaur that ten years later Jack Kirby drew for Marvel. The resemblance ends there, though. While at one point I might have scoffed at a red dinosaur, now I'm not so sure. Some recent news I read said that T. Rex might have had feathers, which could mean he may have had various bright colors to attract a female. Just imagine T. Rex showing off for Tee Hee Rex!

From Star Spangled War Stories #132 (1967):

If possibly to ease trade readers into the DC New 52, the first month of New 52 collections had a comforting familiarity. Batman and Green Lantern were essentially continuations of previous titles, and even books like Justice League, Justice League International, and Stormwatch still essentially functioned like team books of old.

It is in the second month of the DC New 52 collections that readers really start to see a shake-up. Mr. Terrific and Static Shock are the first two New 52 books also cancelled, so they're done-in-one collections -- they're also the first entries that present racial diversity as a tenet of the New 52. Red Lanterns and Frankenstein are relatively new, and relatively weird, entries into the DC Universe, a departure from the same old thing. And then rounding this out are somewhat familiar, but in ways no less distinctive, entries from Detective Comics, Batwoman, and Legion of Super-Heroes.

Batwoman is the one to watch here. It is not the least bit of news to say J. H. Williams returns stellar work, but now he's got a monthly title, which means his Batwoman work can't be dismissed as being just for a "one off" or a special. Having seen work like Williams's on Batwoman and Francis Manapul on Flash, I firmly believe the way to success for the DC New 52 is to up their artistic standards.

Writing matters, yes, but I think when most of the general public think of comic books, they picture art like that of Jim Lee or Tony Daniel on Detective. Both are cogent artists who draw attractive work, but I think it fails at this point to surprise -- and further, cluttered, distorted art like that of Scott McDaniel's on Static Shock only hurt the cause of superhero comics overall.

Williams's art on Batwoman is expansive and it tells an additional story that the script can't tell on its own. In doing so it elevates comics and demonstrates what comics can do as a medium on its own and not just as illustrated books. That's my bar now for "good" art -- art that works in an additive way to the story. Alberto Pontcelli draws wonderful monsters in Frankenstein, but his work simply depicts Jeff Lemire's story, it does not seem to reframe it. I'm hungry for more of that.

At the same time, if we're comparing Batwoman to Frankenstein, the latter has the strongest story, ruling the month overall. Lemire nails the tone of Frankenstein, perhaps not surprisingly since he nailed the tone of Animal Man in the last "month." I have not read Swamp Thing yet and I'm already super-excited for the three-way Frankenstein/Animal Man/Swamp Thing crossover that should be in trade-waiters hands maybe late next year or early the next (a long time to wait!). If you asked me at the outset of the New 52, I wouldn't have guessed that "monster books" would be my personal sleeper hit of the relaunch, but there we are.

My review of Static Shock spawned some interesting discussion; I frankly thought the review of Mr. Terrific would be the more controversial, but the writer never knows these things. Mr. Terrific remains a collection, after the fact, that I really enjoyed and still think about; it was uneven and stilted in a lot of place, but I like writer Eric Wallace's portrayal of Michael Holt, and the emotional conflicts are really strong by the book's end. Static Shock, I will explicitly state, could be one of the poorest collections I've ever read, and if there's a bigger disappointment by the end of the New 52 Volume 1s then we're all in trouble.

The "done in one" format works surprisingly well in both of those books; both of them feel "complete" even with a closing cliffhanger in Terrific. I appreciate very much that DC is willing to collect these titles, in full, after they've been cancelled. I am eager to read Men of War, for instance, knowing it's a "done in one" trade -- there's less pressure on the reader (inasmuch as there's pressure on the reader at all) to read a trade that's a "special," of sorts, and not the start of a long-winded series (a trade without commitments, as it were).

At the same time, where I approve of the DC New 52 collection scheme overall -- there's been plenty to read lately, except, strangely, December -- a title where I think "McCollecting" this month failed was Legion of Super-Heroes. That we're getting the DC New 52 in bite-sized, uniform, six-to-eight issue collections is just right -- but Paul Levitz's last Legion trade collected fourteen issues, compared to a paltry seven for the first New 52 collection, and it's not enough for that title. Legion (under Levitz, at least) is a book that builds wonderfully slowly, so much so that one could read seven issues and feel like nothing happens; it needs a large collection, of the kind that the New 52 doesn't do any more. Hopefully when the second Legion collection comes along, that will help.

... And that's my take on Month Two. I'm tempted to turn now to the first Batgirl trade, but the talk of Men of War has piqued my interest. Maybe a little Men of War, maybe a little Grifter ...

Logo by _____. [The logo is by yours truly. However, if you'd like to see your name here, maybe with a link to your own design site, send me an email to the Yahoo account, or DM me on Twitter or Message me on Facebook. Let's trade a little design work for a lot of free advertising!]

[Guest reviewer Zach King blogs about movies as The Cinema King]

It's been said that Frank Miller has lost his touch. To be sure, The Dark Knight Strikes Again is nowhere near the one-two punch of The Dark Knight Returns or Year One (although I contend that All-Star Batman and Robin is more readable than its detractors give it credit). While his early work has been all but canonized, Miller's post-9/11 work has been criticized, often in tandem with his polarizing political perspective.

All Miller's extreme conservatism, all his political anger, all his willingness to sacrifice aesthetics for the sake of his message -- all of that gets distilled into Frank Miller's Holy Terror, an oversized OGN with the physical dimensions of 300 and the political subtlety of ... well, Frank Miller.

While in hot pursuit of slinky cat burglar Natalie Stack, Empire City's great defender -- The Fixer -- is caught off-guard by a series of coordinated suicide bombings. The Fixer knows intuitively that it's the work of Al-Qaeda, led by a chainmailed successor of bin Laden. Unable to trust the cops of Empire City -- even "tough cop" Dan Donegal -- The Fixer drafts Natalie Stack into the war for some good old-fashioned "postmodern diplomacy."

Originally conceived as a Batman vehicle, Holy Terror never lets you forget that fact. The Fixer, Natalie Stack, and Dan Donegal are straight out of Gotham City (with a healthy dose of Sin City, especially the scene in which The Fixer seems to visit Old Town). But despite Miller's attempts to distance himself from his original version of the story -- the cleverest being when Natalie Stack inquires about The Fixer's origins by asking, "Murdered parents? An exploded planet?" -- it's nigh impossible to read this story without seeing Batman, Catwoman, and Jim Gordon.

That said, there are a number of reasons why Holy Terror could never work as a Batman story -- even one written by Frank Miller. The rooftop-chase-turned-sex-scene between The Fixer and Natalie Stack isn't a far cry from Miller's All-Star Batman, but The Fixer's casual use of lethal force is. As a Batman exaggeration, The Fixer is perhaps more appealing; strip away the mantle of the Bat, and you have a less than compelling character. Ostensibly Miller's heroic avatar, The Fixer is "ready for killing," and the only thing he seems to fear is falling in love with his sultry sidekick.

With The Fixer as a stand-in figure for Miller himself, the message is entirely clear -- the United States faces a monstrous opponent and must repay blood with blood. He's not far off the mark, politically speaking, but his approach is more than a touch reductive. Miller's indictment of contemporary figures (i.e., Obama, Michael Moore, Hillary Clinton) is less convincing, since it's done haphazardly and scattershot. Miller's finger of blame is rightly pointed at the extremist terrorists, who are seen to manipulate malleable minds with promises of paradise, but the attempts to accuse American figures of guilt by silent complicity is less successful.

The most fruitful work Miller does, however, is to humanize the conflict by bookending scenes of violence with small panels which provide close-ups on the faces of the victims. Miller's artwork, recalling the loose sketchy quality of Sin City, captures perfectly the innocence of the doomed and the raging madness of their killers. Elsewhere, Miller's art proves to be Holy Terror's greatest strength, taking advantage of the book's widescreen dimensions to capture the dynamism of the rooftop chases and to thrill the reader with cinematic action sequences.

For as large as the Holy Terror is, though, it's an incredibly quick read, in part because there's nothing particularly innovative about the story. The splash pages are lavish, but the plot can be telegraphed from the bookshelf. We know how this is going to turn out from page one, and it's diverting enough -- but not terribly substantive. The final pages fall flat, failing to deliver any kind of conclusion to the story. With a stronger ending, Holy Terror might have transcended accusations of shallow war-mongering, but as it stands the book concludes as an empty popcorn action film -- granted, entertaining in the brief time it'll take to read, but ultimately empty nonetheless.

DC's Danger Trail lasted five issues, from #1, dated Jul-Aug 1950 to #5, Mar-Apr 1951. I have no idea why it had such a short life. It had good covers and interior art, and interesting characters in action-filled stories of intrigue. The artists, among them Carmine Infantino and Alex Toth, were some of DC's best. I don't know if sales were bad, or because editor Julius Schwartz was debuting a new title, Strange Adventures, with a first issue dated Aug-Sep 1950. In the wings was a sister publication, Mystery In Space, the first issue dated Apr-May 1951, which coincided with the last issue of Danger Trail. Science fiction was Schwartz's entry into magazine editing, after all. Read more about editor Julius Schwartz.

King Faraday, starring in this Robert Kanigher-scripted story from Danger Trail #2 (1950), had an even shorter career than the comic book. He appeared in the first four issues. He was brought back years later by DC in one of their revisionist versions of old and obscure characters, but that’s outside the scope of this blog. The story I'm showing here is a little caption heavy, but well drawn by Infantino and Frank Giacoia.