Starring the team from Rack Raids: Adam, Devon, Eric, Graig, Jeb and Max as “Max”.

The Damned: Prodigal Sons #1 (of 3) (Oni Press)
by Graig Kent

When I reviewed the first trade of The Damned I noted that more wasn’t exactly necessary, but I’d more than welcome it. And I do. I can’t honestly remember the last time I’ve been this happy (or surprised) to see a book on the new release release rack (my obsessive advance-checking of shipping lists usually leaves little surprise for me on new comic book day). Let me say, for those that have read the first series, the second more than delivers on that excitement.

“Prodigal Sons” introduces the reader to Eddie’s brother Morgan, a tough-as-nails bruiser ala Sin City’s Marv or Eric Powell’s The Goon. The book opens with a flashback to the brothers and their first encounter with the world of demon mafioso, a relationship which seems to have been something handed down to them. Fast-forward to the present and we see the brothers again, each living different lives from one another, their relationship obviously strained. After the events of the prior series, Eddie has discovered what he believes is a way to save their mother’s soul and wants Morgan’s help. Morgan is less than enthusiastic, but is suckered into helping anyway. Meanwhile, with Eddie’s new status as a prominent casino operator has the big demonic kingpin’s hackles raised, and he’s not going to stand for some human having such control. Of course, Eddie’s talent for dying and coming back to life is always a problem.

Cullen Bunn is 100% on-point with his return to Eddie and the demon mob, and he’s taking the second series in an intriguing direction. His characterization of, well, everyone is impeccable, Eddie and Morgan’s relationship with each other and the demon world a superb curiosity. Brian Hurtt’s art, as always is brilliant. His characters are absolute individuals with their own appearance, mannerisms and a heap of personality. From settings to story flow to grisly demonic things to the hard-boiled action sequences, Hurtt’s art perfectly compliments Bunn’s dialogue over 32 very full pages. These two co-creators, you can tell, are utterly invested in making this as entertaining and engrossing as possible, and they most definitely succeed.

If there’s one (miniscule) failing, it’s that “Prodigal Sons” isn’t entirely open to new readers, but when the trade is available of such an impeccable quality, there’s no harm in driving people there first before they enjoy this.


FIVE OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Adam Among The Gods (Aazurn Publishing)
by Adam Prosser

Here’s a radical idea for you: a 24-page comic story.

As in, a story that is completely contained within 24 pages. It’s not part of an ongoing, serialized storyline. It’s not an OGN. It doesn’t feature characters who have ever appeared before, or will ever appear again. It’s just a simple short story in comic book form, no pre-existing knowledge or commitment to future issues necessary.

Did I just blow your mind?!?

The comic in question is Adam Among The Gods, by the very small Aazurn Publishing, written and colored by Gary Scott Beatty and penciled & inked by James Lyle. It’s a dystopian SF tale that inevitably evokes EC comics, but for me it also had a sort of weird 70s movie vibe to it—y’know, traces of Zardoz or Logan’s Run. Um, maybe that’s not the most ringing endorsement in the world, but it’s true.

In the future, mankind has created a paradise via the wonders of genetic engineering. Humans have become a bunch of gorgeous, physically perfect Olympians, many of them bald, many of them naked, free of deformity, sickness, and old age. Natural death has been completely eliminated. With that fundamental aspect of humanity gone, the need for violence and conflict has dropped as well, so that Earth is almost paradise. Except for one individual, a man named Adam. He was the first success in the attempt to create an immortal human, the first genetically altered human to survive past infancy, and the breakthrough that made everything else possible. Unfortunately, as with so many first attempts, there were problems. While he possesses the same resilient biochemistry as the superhumans that came after him, Adam is a deformed dwarf with animal-like, distorted features. His pivotal role in the new evolution means that he’s revered, almost worshipped, by the perfect humans surrounding him, but he’s also incredibly lonely.

Of course, there’s also a more pressing political problem, as there always is in manufactured Edens like this one. A radical sect called the People’s Genetic Freedom Army, who mutilate themselves to protest the perfection forced upon them at birth, have discovered a dark secret behind the genetic utopia, and they’ve decided to kidnap Adam in order to make themselves heard.

Both Beatty’s writing and Lyle’s art are workmanlike (and sometimes a little clunky) on a superficial level, but reveal impressive hidden depths. For instance, the dialogue is often way too expositional and awkward, and the plot is maybe just a little too compressed…but the story being told is a good, old-school SF tale of hubris and Big Ideas, and some nice, subtle touches that Beatty is smart enough not to pound home (like the fact that everyone in this genetic utopia is white, or the way that the superhumans’ reverence for Adam clearly doesn’t extend to being willing to sleep with him). Likewise, Lyle’s art is sometimes a little flat and undynamic, but his characters are expressive, and he does a good job of portraying Adam as deformed without making him overly grotesque.

And, of course, it’s hard not to applaud Beatty’s idea of producing standalone comic book stories (he’s apparently planning to produce more of these). Sure, I still like a full-course meal, but sometimes I just want a snack. And Adam Among the Gods is a delicious plate of cheese and crackers. (Man, there’s a pull-quote for you.)



THREE AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Bad Planet #5 (of 6) (Image)
by Graig Kent

We first reviewed Bad Planet #1 back in December of 2005’s Thor’s Comic Column with a favorable rating. Looking at that column just now I just realized that we also did a review of X-Factor #1 at the same time. Now X-Factor just hit issue #30 while Bad Planet has just reached #5. Wow.

Bad Planet had been delayed by artist issues for well over a year between the first and second issue, but when they finally returned to publishing, the creative team promised a more consistent schedule. Movie guy Thomas Jane and horror-meister Steve Niles are at the helm of this series about alien death spiders invading and ravaging the earth and the humanoid alien escaped convict who is the planet’s only (slim) hope. It’s a pulpy, exploitative b-movie plot, and had it come out on any constant publishing schedule, it would be a highly engaging one.

The series, illustrated primarily by James Daly III and Tim Bradstreet, truly evokes a sense of atomic sci-fi… the tone reminiscent of foreign-entity terrors like Them or the Blob, as well as planetary devastation like Earth vs. The Flying Saucers or War of the Worlds but with the bad-boy hero. The creative team has done their best to reach broadly across sci-fi conventions, the third issue sported a surprisingly effect 3-D section, evoking the feel of gimmicky ’50’s horror cinema, and this issue featuring 14 pages of richly detailed painted art by Dave Kendall, delving into the history between the convict and the deathspiders, as well as revealing the origin of the title. Other ’50’s staples like hot cars and vague science are also enjoyably employed.

Having returned with issue 2 in July of 2007, it did publish bi-monthly for all of three issues before yet another lengthy 5-month delay which makes me wonder what happened to Jane’s comment to Newsarama: “This time around, I decided to get the whole series penciled and in the can before soliciting.” A quick troll of some message boards noted there were more artistic issues. The delays have killed any momentum this series may have built and were it not for the stature of the creative team I’m doubtful that Image would still be carrying the title. I’m just as surprised that I’m still buying it.

It is conflicting, as the story is quite entertaining, but not enough to withstand the sizeable delays when reading issue-by-issue. With the gimmicks involved and the story breakdown, it is a series that works better as a floppy and not as a trade, but it is asking too much to expect people to follow along a six-issue mini-series over a three-year span. For the reader who enjoys gritty, horrific sci-fi, I can recommend this book, but only when it reaches completion this June (theoretically), sporting one of Dave Steven’s last works on cover. I would suggest digging up back issues when the sixth issue comes out rather than waiting for trade. The rating below takes into account both my enjoyment and my frustration with the book.


TWO AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Don Pendleton’s The Executioner: The Devil’s Tools #1 (IDW)
by Max Patterson

Fans of Don Pendleton’s Executioner series will likely remember them as competently written (if fairly generic) action titles. Essentially Harlequin novels for dudes, they delivered all the things most 12 year olds look for in a novel, namely guns, explosions and Schwarzenegger-esque body counts. Still, this particular series has always had a special place in my heart, thanks to its use as a template for my favorite comic creation, The Punisher. The star of the books, Mack Bolan (aka The Executioner) was essentially a proto-Frank Castle; an ex-solider turned vigilante, Bolan waged a one man war on crime after the death of his family at the hands of criminals. It’s a simple premise, and one the comic wisely avoids tampering with. The only questionable decision is choosing to maintain Bolan’s age, with the story’s various crime bosses talking about Bolan’s escapades during the 70’s and beyond. One even suggests that Bolan is actually a Korean war vet, which makes his current 30-something appearance a little hard to swallow. Normally this kind of thing isn’t a big deal in comics (Hell, Batman’s gotta be pushing 90 by now), but when you bring up the time element as part of your story, you should probably have a better explanation than “plastic surgery.” Chronological shenanigans aside though, how does the comic itself hold up?

Well, besides the terrible cover (yeesh), the art on this comic is decent, and at times quite good. While there’s nothing particularly ground-breaking, SL Gallant clearly knows his stuff, and his work gives the story an appropriately gritty, pulp-action feel. Though some of the hand-to-hand action is iffy, the gun fights are spectacular, with a real cinematic feel lacking in a lot of action books. My only real complaint is the uniformly boring Bolan, who appears to have all the personality of your average door. I understand he’s supposed to be a stoic bad-ass, but the guy’s expressions alternate between bored and comatose. As far as the coloring goes, Luis Antonio Delgado’s work is competent, if a bit bland. To be fair, a lot of the drab pallet can be blamed on the story’s setting, as there’s really no way to make a warehouse full of crates super exciting. Overall though I was pleasantly surprised by both men’s work, and judged solely on its artistic merits, this book would easily pass muster. However, as a wise-man once said, you can’t make Spodka without Sprite and Vodka, and in this case someone’s replaced the Vodka with pee.

Look, I’ve got nothing against Mr. Wojtowicz. I’m sure in his free time he’s a kind, selfless man who regularly saves babies from burning orphanages. But his writing on this book goes beyond bad, into the realm of the inexcusable. Here’s a few samples so you can see where I’m coming from:

“Paid thugs twist under a rain of damnation.”

“The .44 Magnum Desert Eagle literally carves a huge hole in the opposition.”

“I don’t know if Bolan leads a charmed life, or if he can lie an Eskimo into buying ice.”

Honestly, I’m not even sure how to make a joke out of these. My favorite though is a little gem of a metaphor Wojtowicz uses to describe Bolan, claiming “He’s the closest thing to a precision-guided bomb that the world has ever seen.” Hmmm, what would be closer to a precision-guided bomb than Mark Bolan? How about an actual precision-guided bomb. Seriously, it’s like saying bread is the closest thing to waffles the world has ever seen. How this stuff ever passed editorial muster is a mystery, and it reeks of the lowest kind of noir garbage. Heavy-handed metaphors and hammy narration are fine if done properly, but this stuff is absolute dreck. Lie an Eskimo into buying ice? I’m pretty sure that’s not even real English. Admittedly I haven’t read a Bolan book in a while, but I don’t remember the characters talking like idiots. When a supposed Latino gang member cries out “Fuck this chump up!” I couldn’t decide whether to roll my eyes or just cry. To put things bluntly, Wojtowicz is the closest thing to a terrible writer I’ve encountered in all my Rack Raids/Thor's Comic Column reviews.

It’s kind of sad that for all the pokes this comic makes at the Punisher, it ultimately comes off as a mediocre knock-off. Terrible writing aside, there’s just nothing here that makes this comic really stand-out from the dozens of other great action titles out there. With books like The Highwaymen, Mercenaries and yes, The Punisher doing a much better job with similar material, there’s just no reason to pick this one up.


TWO OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Helen Killer #1 (Arcana Studiios)
by Adam Prosser

There’s nothing like a good high concept, is there? And somehow, comics have (possibly by virtue of their historically cheap and trashy nature) embraced some of the most absurd and surreal of the high concepts, the kinds of things that would get you violently thrown out of a book publisher or movie mogul’s office if you were to pitch it to them.

As an example: the story of Helen Keller, the girl rendered deaf and blind by illness when she was 19 months old, and who was taught to communicate via sign language through the incredibly patient efforts of her tutor, Anne Sullivan. This has been portrayed via the movie and play The Miracle Worker, but as writer Andrew Kreisberg points out, there hasn’t been much in the way dramatic portrayals of her later life, in which she graduated from college, met a number of historically significant people, and became a passionate crusader for various causes including women’s rights. There’s a lot of material for a movie or a book there, but Kreisberg is a comic book writer, which means he’s willing to take things into slightly weirder territory.

Thus, we get Hellen Killer, the story of how Keller was given sight and vision via a pair of high-tech spectacles and employed as a government assassin to protect the president from anarchists.

There’s a superficial similarity to Matt Fraction and Steven Sanders’ graphic novel The Five Fists of Science in that this story involves real-life people having zany steampunk adventures around the turn of the century. But Fraction treats everything with a wink and a smile, whereas Kreisberg tackles his story with a surprising level of seriousness, from Keller’s internal demons (both her nightmarish past, cut off from the rest of her family, and her newly emergent skill for killing) to the ominous nature of the story’s apparent archvillain, Elisha Grey. It’s more than a little reminiscent of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman’s (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) efforts, in which he finds the dignity and humanity in the most absurd premises.

One of the story’s cute premises is that, with one exception, every character is a real person, from Alexander Graham Bell, who invents Keller’s high-tech spectacles–not only did Bell know Keller in real life, he invented the telephone while attempting to construct a device to help the deaf—to the pathetic Leon Czolgosz, familiar to fans of Stephen Sondheim’s musical Assassins. And having looked up Elisha Grey on Wikipedia, his motives for pitting himself against Keller and Bell quickly become obvious. The whole idea is couched in silliness, but treated in such a deadpan way that it becomes compelling in spite of itself.

The black-and-white art is by Matthew Rice, and it’s solid enough, though it sometimes seems a bit unpolished. Rice’s talent is apparently for action sequences and detailed backgrounds, leaving the faces sometimes a bit distorted (though admittedly expressive). There’s one thing that bothers me a bit here, though: like a number of black and white comics I’ve seen recently, this is the same price (or even a little more expensive) than a mainstream DC or Marvel comic. I don’t mean to sound like black and white is somehow inferior to colour—I absolutely believe some stories are better served by black and white artwork—but surely one of the advantages of black and white is that it’s cheaper to print? Why charge us this much when you’ve got a great sales hook?

These issues force me to deduct half a star from Helen Killer, which is otherwise a very solid and entertaining book with a well-conceived premise, and a neat glimpse into history. With kicking.


THREE AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Trade Winds - Hunter’s Moon tpb (Boom Studios)
by Graig Kent

I don’t like having to backpedal on my previous praise for screenwriter James L. White’s Hunter’s Moon, as I had read, and quite enjoyed, the mini-series month-to-month for the first three issues, but missed out on the final two parts. With the release of the trade paperback I was finally able to read the complete story, and I felt some misgivings about by my previous praise. Although there was a shift in the artistic team between the third and the fourth issue, that wasn’t the key factor leading to my disappointment. No, rather, White’s story — which for three issues was intensely paced, featuring a gripping premise and a terrific catch-22 twist — turns into something that borders on self-parody when the antagonists are revealed, forcing the reader into accepting a laugh-inducing conceit.

The central character of the story is Lincoln Greer, a self-made success story, a confident businessman whose only failure is as a father and husband. He plans a romantic log-cabin getaway but it’s sidelined when he’s saddled with his wanna-be rapper son, Wendell, for the trip. But despite the definite shift in tone of the weekend, he sees it as an opportunity to reconnect with his boy, and to teach him how to hunt as his own father did when he was a boy. Forced to spend time together, the strain in their relationship is palpable, but the more they actually interact, the more they begin to relate and actually understand each other. It’s a surprisingly effective and natural progression, and integral for the set-up of the book. They end up in a whitebread town where they’re viewed as outsiders, being both black and city-folk. The townies have a less than hospitable attitude towards them at first.

During their first hunting outing, Wendell disappears, and Linc, frantic, finds himself held at the mercy of his son’s kidnappers. Linc is forced into a major crime in order to free his son from ransom, but this only puts an already suspicious sheriff further on edge and on Lincs tail. The action in the third chapter doesn’t let up through the finale but the story takes a series of drastic swerves as Lincon faces down the sheriff and his blackmailers, and reunites with his son, all happening in a manner that seems contrived. Inevitably the undercurrent of racism in the story turns from subtle and percolating to overt and cliché. The concept of institutionalized or societal racism is obviously at play from the very beginning, and its role seemed to be limited to a refined subtext, and, I had hoped, addressed early on so that it wouldn’t be the crux of the story. But it only just grows in importance in the third act to the point where it’s awkwardly dominating the story and is trivialized as a plot device.

I can note some intent in White’s tokenized view of rednecks and their small-town, outdated views on race issues, but the manner in which he approaches it with the story’s antagonists (and their ludicrous affiliation) pulls any sort of deeper discussion out of the equation, leaving the book somewhat soulless and a typical Hollywood-ized look at the American culture clash. Another aspect that hinders the book is Linc isn’t allowed to be his own hero. Stuck in a situation where there’s no way he could logically escape, the reader’s rapt in wondering how he’s going to get out of there. For Linc to escape the situation would require a maneuver of Batman or Bondian proportions… which White had prepared us for the possibility of. Instead, a deux ex machina third party is pulled back in, and while the seeds of this rescue are planted earlier in the book, it does rob the lead character that extra dose of heroism. The book’s postscript is also perfunctory, losing the naturalistic relationship Linc and his son had established early on and briskly closing with a resoundingly un-complex happy ending for Linc, his son, and even an out-of-the-blue hint of a reunion with his ex-wife.

The trade collection pulls Hunter’s Moon together as a rounded whole, giving a very cinematic feel, which, given White’s background, shouldn’t be unexpected. The story flows in typical 3-act movie style, although White did manage to also capitalize on the comic-book format, creating some well-paced cliffhanger-like chapter breaks between each issue. It’s no surprise that Hunter’s Moon has become the latest of Boom Studios’ products to be optioned for a film treatment (by Mekhi Phifer’s Facilitator Films), I just hope that the screenplay works out the clunkiness from its final act.


TWO AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Trade Winds - Hazed OGN (Image)
by Devon Sanders

The beer with a shot of Jack slid towards the back of your throat. Nine in and your stomach threatens revolt. Your gullet nears full and there it is and you know what come next: that gurgle in your gut, that burning spew that sends up the night. That acidic concoction that, as it hits the back of your throat, takes just enough time to let your nasal passages know what this is going to smell like, tenfold, in just another half second. And, there it is: that wet, familiar sound of liquid hitting pavement and just like that, you’ve made room for more.

The night is young and thank God, you have a “big sister” there to hold your hair back.

College.

Welcome to the world presented in Image’s original graphic novel, Hazed.

Ileana Silver is young, idealistic and ready to accept the challenges of the Ivy League. Only thing is, the Ivy League didn’t accept her challenge. At a crossroads, she enrolls in “The Harvard of the South.” A school steeped in the “Greek” system, a system she perceives as wrong. Enter her new roommate, James Dalton, a Greek sorority Sigma Tau Delta (STD, get it?) “legacy” who has all the “rights”: hair, parents, politics. James is a sure thing, a lock, until she crosses paths with Val, the top STD. In Ileana and James, Val sees two new threats. In Ileana, one who wants to dismantle her Greek way of life and in James, the one who could steal her STD “glow.” Wackiness ensues and through Val’s machinations, Ileana is accepted and James is left to fend for herself in freshman hell. Ileana accepts, ready to tear down the system from the inside. The thing about tearing something down from within is that it’ll almost always bring you down with it.

Writer Mark Sable’s dialogue is clever and at times, too clever. His observations about Greek life, in general, are his greatest strength and made me laugh more than once. Hazed is funny in places but horribly, horribly off-base in others.

Not to give too much away but for something that wants so badly to make a statement about the Greek system’s devaluation of individuality, to have Ileana do what she did to her fellow women was just unconscionable and just not the least bit funny and did absolutely nothing to redeem her as a character.

Just a bad bit of writing.

Artist Robbi Rodriguez is the true MVP of Hazed. Rodriguez brings all sorts of life to these characters. His art is full of flourishes and brilliant facial expressions that in some places, captures the spirit of Chuck Jones.

Hazed has its moments and is entirely well-intentioned but it, much like many a college freshman, doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. Unfortunately, unlike a freshman, there’s not a lot of room for growth here.


TWO OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS

Trade Winds - Aqua Leung OGN (Image)

by Graig Kent

There are some who claim the floppy is dead, that trade paperbacks and original graphic novels are the only future for the medium. They may be right. The floppy, monthly (or otherwise) is a distinct format that allows for compressed storytelling well, and serialized storytelling even better, but the floppy is also limited in its flexibility and limiting to the storytellers, with stories pigeonholing themselves into, typically, 22 to 24 page chunks. Where graphic novels have the distinct advantage is the ability for creators to contract and relax, flex and release their story as much as they want. They don’t have to close out a story or leave a cliffhanger at page 24, the story can breathe and move on its own. Aqua Leung writer Mark Andrew Smith uses the format to the utmost, telling an miniaturized epic that is at times tranquil and others frenetic. Smith manages a 12 page introductory sequence that only tangentially ties into the story, but it does set the pace and the feel of the story, equal parts humorous, surreal and adventurous.

Smith’s story exploits numerous fantasy and comic book conventions, as a young boy finds his destiny is that of King of the undersea dominion. As a baby, Aqua was taken away from his undersea home, spared the bloody revolt of his father’s kingdom. Raised on the mainland by a loving Korean couple, Aqua only knew himself as human, but he’s thrust into prophetic destiny when his adoptive family is horrendously murdered by a sea creature, and Aqua is saved and given the key to return to the seas.

There he learns of that he is destined to be King and unifier of the lands, now divided. He first must undergo intensive training, equal parts kung-fu cinema and Spartan-style. Not only does he train his body over the year, but also his mind, becoming a fighter and a tactician. At the end of his training he’s sent on a vision quest, to encounter his own fears. Emerging at the other end, he’s quickly enlisted into King Calamari’s service. The King is of immense size (he’s illustrated more as a surrounding than a single figure, never appearing as a whole on panel, only as flickering tentacles surrounding his visitors) and his monstrous proportions leaves Aqua wary of him, but still indentured to his service.

His first task for the king is a quest for fire, which is to both test his resolve and his skills as well as to continue his education amidst more seasoned warriors. He returns from this elaborate and trying adventure more mature and aware, and the King dictates it’s time for Aqua to lead his people and unite the seas in battle against the tyrants of the land. The final act of the book is a prolonged battle sequence of Trojan or Spartan proportions as the forces of King Calamari wage war against the Crab King and his warrior caste. It’s an intense mêlée with obvious results, but no less exciting.

The book is slow to start, the introduction by the Millenium Tortoise whimsical but the dense exposition that fill the first 25 pages is much to wade through, a challenge and not strictly necessary (much of the exposition could have been revealed equally well at other times throughout the book). Once the story does get going, however, and we’re introduced to Adam Leung (later renamed Aqua by his people) it moves along swiftly, and pulls you in further and further.

The nature of the story is not unfamiliar, and bears parallels to the underwater kingdoms over the past half century via Aquaman, Namor, or many tales featuring an undersea Atlantis. But Smith doesn’t shy away from the references, even embracing a Namor-ian analog (”the Mighty Seaman”) as one of Aqua’s comic book heroes on the surface world. Rather than being a knock off of any story, it’s much more an homage to undersea adventurers merged with classic Greek warrior mythos.

Smith is accompanied by artist Paul Maybury in telling the tale. Maybury’s art is of the flat 2-dimensional mold with simplistically rendered, big-eyed characters, which is not unlike a fantasy variation of Scott Pilgrim, with definite parallels to Brian Lee O’Malley’s artistic style. But there’s also elements of the wild creativity present in Genndy Tartakovski’s Samurai Jack, not to mention similarities in its adventurousness and meditativeness, not to mention highly bizarre looking creatures. I also sense a touch of Paul Pope’s freehand pastiche, leaving the characters and settings not wholly refined, but deftly rendered.

Maybury handles the script exceptionally well, presenting some truly stunning moments like the dream sequence featuring the four-page spread of the dragon’s mouth, and the aforementioned too-large to fit in panel King Calamari. Unfortunately, there are also occasional panels or sequences which are completely indiscernible, the action or intent illegible altogether, muddied by Maybury’s simplistic but thick line. Thankfully these aren’t the norm and he pulls of a high number of captivating sequences, and the visuals get stronger as it goes along (the battle between Aqua’s forces and those of King Crab are downright spectacular).

The main quibble I have (which I have with most underwater adventures) is it doesn’t always feel like it’s underwater, and in this case, Aqua Leung shares the Spongebob Squarepants reality of underwater where the atmosphere isn’t treated like water but like air, and gravity is not indifferent from land. After a while, you forget that the events are undersea, which doesn’t fully affect the impact of the story itself, but is a missed opportunity for some further innovative visuals.

Despite its simplicity of line, Aqua Leung won’t be suitable for younger readers, although tweens and young adults who wade knee deep into Lord of the Rings or Narnia will easily find much to enjoy.

It’s beautifully rendered and strikingly colored, with sharp dialogue culminating in a very engrossing, complete read (once past the opening expository salvo), and for fans of fantasy and undersea adventure, it’s some pretty sharp stuff.


THREE AND A HALF OUT OF FIVE VIKINGS