Swallow Me Whole

Nate Powell

Top Shelf

originally published October 1, 2008

Slow-developed neuroses and familial love play heavily into Nate Powell’s new novel Swallow Me Whole, a demanding book that aspires to great heights - and usually achieves them. Two brothers living in the indeterminate South have to deal with their classmates, parents, grandmother, all under the cloud of various mental health troubles: OCD, schizophrenia, hallucinations and other delusions. It’s all conveyed meticulously through a precisely plotted story and art that’s layered, dense and often complex.

But complexity is no virtue in and of itself, particularly when it obscures meaning or intent, and Powell’s clever artwork can sometimes work against itself. Not all of the book’s 200-plus pages are as difficult as the most extreme examples, and Powell’s scratchy, shady artwork is usually sufficiently moody yet clear. And he’s a skilled craftsman when it comes to page structure and layout, working themes into not just the content of his work but also its presentation.

Swallow Me Whole’s main strength is its treatment of the brothers at the heart of its story. The book doesn’t deny the existence of teenage angst, but refuses to wallow in it or in its melodramatic clichés, and examines the gray area between healthy teenage escapism and detrimental fantasy. A textured and intricate take on adolescence is a hard thing to find, especially in comics - a medium too easily given to adolescent indulgences. It’s commendably ambitious, and almost always successful.

Chris Hassiotis

Air #1

G. Willow Wilson, M.K. Perker

Vertigo

originally published October 1, 2008

Comics imprint Vertigo has repositioned itself as the “HBO of comics,” publishing series that are high-concept sagas anchored by compelling characters. Air, a new series from writer G. Willow Wilson and artist M.K. Perker, gets the first part of the equation right but needs work on the second. Blythe, the series’ main character, is a flight attendant who finds herself falling down a rabbit hole of airline conspiracy, vaguely surreal dreamscapes and slapstick dark comedy populated by overeager would-be vigilantes and weird nationality-shifting men.

None of the characters ring true, though - or at least, they don’t appear to be true characters as much as they are embodiments of ideas and representative of certain viewpoints Winston is looking to spotlight. It’s not an altogether failing approach, just one that keeps the book at a distance from the reader. When characters are little more than the collective paranoia of post-9/11 security, what’s to pull a reader in rather than push away? Aren’t we dealing with enough of that as it is? Perhaps over the course of the next several issues - Air was apparently originally conceived as a standalone book but then expanded into an ongoing series - Wilson will build some depth and motivation into her cast and move from the realm of caricature into character.

Chris Hassiotis

Suburban Glamour

Jamie McKelvie

Image

originally published October 1, 2008

Suburban Glamour is a promising story about a disaffected suburban teenager, struggling with day-to-day issues of which boy to date and which My Chemical Romance CD to listen to, who gets pulled into a web of magical intrigue tied into Britain’s fairy folklore. But once the plot moves along at a tepid pace, with left-field revelations and twists presented with as much drama as someone dropping an iPod, the book ends up feeling rushed, unfinished and lazy.

The heavy-handed and clumsy plotting isn’t Suburban Glamour’s only stumbling block, though. McKelvie’s artwork starts out looking clean and straightforward, if a little stilted at times, but the flat colors provided by colorists Guy Major and Matthew Wilson, when paired with McKelvie’s awkward poses, conjure images of the stiff and lifeless images on an airplane’s in-flight emergency guidelines card. They carry about the same emotional impact, as well.

With a rushed plot and distinctly unsuccessful artwork, Suburban Glamour is an example of a lot of good ideas handled poorly, resulting in the unlikely event of the whole being less than the sum of its parts.

Chris Hassiotis