Mindless Ones

To be, or not to be. That is the question. These comics I hold… Are they a record of what will be, or only of what may? For if the future is indeed immutably foretold in these short reviews… then my demise is but moments from that confirmation.

Worms: Book The First – Erika Price

Last time I talked about Erika’s work on here I just about got the sense of it over – “It’ll get under your skin. You’ll want it there.”

What this doesn’t quite capture is how her work feels once it’s worked its way past your psychic barriers. A line from this issue presents itself: “That night rippled through the whole city.” I knew this comic was the real stuff, the best stuff, by the third page, when the backdrop to a confession seemed to writhe and twist in front of my eyes across three rancid panels.

Erika’s comics have always been warped formal marvels, with carefully worried lines stacked on top of each other in patterns both intricate and suggestive of some sort of deeper unravelling, but there’s a mounting sense of dread to Worms that might just surpass anything she’s done before. Topical stuff, really – a conclave and its aftermath. Dark intimations about the new leader. Stuttering guilt, barked theories, recrimination. Writing to match the art, check the sequence where an internal monologue is put through the shredder while Eulogiuseley sits in front of knife and fork, lost in lost thoughts, feast not yet in front of him: “Have you ever woken up one morning to find your whole world, nay, your whole reality, is rotting away beneath your feet?”

Ripples within ripples within ripples. The whole city. The night. “Have you ever woken up one morning to find your whole world, nay, your whole reality, is rotting away beneath your feet?” There’s a mounting sense of dread to Worms that might just surpass anything Erika’s done before. Did I say that already, before the feast?

Detective Comics Annual 2025 – John McCrea (art), Stefano Raffaele (art), Fico Ossio (art), Al Ewing (script), Lee Loughridge (colours), Triona Farrell (colours), Ulises Arreola (colours), Tom Napolitano (letters)

We famously love a gonzo Bat-epic around here, but do you know what’s a wee bit undervalued in the post four dimensional Bat-squid era? A nice done-in-one mystery with Batman in it. “Detective Comics” they’re calling it, over on whatever cursed platform they’re using to propagate new sales pitches these days.

This annual is a perfect example of the form. Starts with a locked room murder and works its way to a big face-off with the perpetrator by way of a scenic trip to York. Vivid scene setting across its locales, from the hermetic rich man’s world where we begin to the very English churchyard where things get weird. Three artists for three sections so the “art jam” aspect of it doesn’t get too grating. John McCrae’s chapter is the clear stand-out, his work a welcome break from the impacted gothic house style. McCrae’s pages are full of bright pink light and well kent cop faces, all characters drawn with a bit of spring in their limbs, all backdrops rendered like unusually convincing film sets.

The panel above gives the trick away: even when writing a functional Bat-mystery, Al Ewing finds away to bring the uncanny into the story. The Bat’s solid but flexible, y’see – it can solve a crime, beat a magician at his own game, and incorporate Ewing’s current thematic occupation with unfathomable tech fuckery along the way. That’s why it’s the McCrae sequence that really sings. For a few pages in the middle there, the art is clearly every bit as adaptable as the guy with the big cape and the bulging toolkit.

As for computers, “Sophisticated idiots–they do only as they’re told.”

The Return & other short comics – K.Briggs

Already reviewed in a recent issue of the Mindless Ones newsletter – subscribe today if you haven’t already – and now available to order! To borrow some words that aren’t my own:

Briggs doesn’t really make comics like anyone else I know, I think there’s probably a “high Vertigo” ‘95ish influence but it’s not… they are never really narrative driven, I think they are ponderous if you can imagine that not being used pejoratively; a synonym of meditative but that has implications that I find sort of annoying, there’s a strong fine art sensibility that I only know enough about to vaguely recognise and can’t perform any disquisition on really, but I always find the work moving and connecting in ways that are… essentially I think what is done here with colour and collage drawing the eye across simple, diaristic blank verse – everything is everything remember & this is closer to ee cummings than it is to 95%(?) of comics – is what we have always been trying to write about, the art of life, these intercuts and disjunctions are essentially omnipresent in my own experience but to read a story – per my earlier post-Gaiman misgivings about “story” – or even biographical account, it’s incredibly rare to find something that matches the abstruse mind(/less) in action; M John Harrison’s writing about writing anti-biography Wish I Was Here is probably the closest to authentically being inside someone’s head I have chosen to be…

The comic in part is about having things in your head that other people have put there, I awoke with the dreamlike phrase “You have disconnected yourself from your real self” the other day – about my latest sexual frustration probably – it is a feeling or sensation I know and see mirrored here… all the stupid presets folk wanted to put on you, well they were wrong because how the fuck would they know better; the process of building the right life is long, hard, onerous and you will have to be so strong, and the haters and losers can waylay you… here is a pathfinder, though

I’m feeling too close to the page to add much to that right now. What I will say is that the fine art element is in full effect here, as it always has been with Briggs comics, but that The Return is their most immediate experiment in autobiography so far. The tactile aspect that’s always been there in their use of collage matched here by the immediacy of the line, the shape making more urgent than ever; reading all of these strips in one go, it’s possible to feel like the art is streaming directly into your brain.

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YOU CAN CRY, YOU CAN MOPE, BUT CAN YOU SWING FROM A GOOD ROPE?

Ahh yes…um, look okay everyone…stop talking please…can you…can you… sorry, can you just… look please just sit down and stop talk… um hello? HELLO? I said..I SAID.. can you please just…no look put that down and just… look will you stop talking for just one… what? yes, well just come in and sit down and try not to… excuse me, would you mind just…? Look will you be quiet for just one..what? Yes..what? Yes I AM the substitute blurb writer, why do you… look can you just put that..no, no I COULD actually be a full time blurb writer if…what? Sorry, can you..OUCH! OKAY!!! WHO THREW THAT GRAPHIC NOVEL AT MY HEAD??? You KNOW how much those fully painted numbers weigh…Okay…now just settle down. Settle…what? WHAT? What do you mean I’ve run out of

<ITEM> The Beast Must Die & Gary Lactus have a particularly itchy case of the sponsorshingles, with the usual nods to Dave’s Comics and Gosh Comics, and an in-depth discussion of Zoos.

<ITEM> A smart tug on the winkie and we’re off into the Reviewniverse, with hearty happy earthy discussions of Star Wars, Darth Vader, Princess Leia, Surface, Ms Marvel, Ragnarok, Rat God, Howard The Duck, Steve Gerber, Marvel Dinner Comics, Hellbreak, Fantastic Four, Southern Cross and much much much much (not) much more.

<ITEM> It’s the brand new movie section we’re calling Everything Comes Back To Rocky IV, as The Beast discusses recent filmic treats Godzilla and Edge Of Tomorrow: Live, Die, Repeat, Cruise. He also watched Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs 2 but he’s not going to tell you the Dear Listeners, about that. The Tacodile was pretty great though, right?

<ITEM> Come on, we all need a good wee and some dinner, so let’s call it a night, eh? Have a good SILENCE!

Click to download SILENCE!#135

Contact us:

[email protected]
@silencepod
@frasergeesin
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This edition of SILENCE! is proudly sponsored by the greatest comics shop on the planet, DAVE’S COMICS of Brighton. It’s also sponsored the greatest comics shop on the planet GOSH! Comicsof London.

 

 

JUST REMEMBER, ALL CAPS WHEN YOU SPELL THE MAN’S NAME!

10 days and a wake up and Disembodied Narratorbot X-15735 will be  rotating back into the quadrosphere, away from this blurb, this tedious podcast, and your grim grey visages…but until then I suppose the fleshy charade must continue.

Oh and I suppose some mention should be made of the extreme generosity of the listeners in ensuring that Gary Lactus & The Beast Must Die can continue to block up the internet with their inane aural clag. The sentimentality of weeping meat knows no bounds it would appear. Well if those two red-faced blowhards even dream of upgrading to a newer model of Narratorbot…well let’s just say there will be human sushi served all round.

HA HA, as if they would.

<ITEM> No SILENCE! News as Lactenberg & Beastman are still in The Bad Books of Silence. Instead enjoy some jingles in honour of our sainted benefactors. Commercial entropy here we come!!

<ITEM> The Reviewniverse reaches out it’s 4-D tentacles and sucks us all in to it’s endless horrors. As all of our realities merge into a 4-colour stew, the boys cover Godzilla, Batman LOTDK, The Intractible Hulk, Red She-Hulk, Aquaman, Earth 2, Dial H, Glory, Abe Sapien, Thanos, Superior Spiderman, Snow Angel, All New X-Men, Kieron Gillen’s Uber, Joe Casey’s Sex and Fashion Beast.

So I hope you’re all happy. Disembodied Narratorbot X-15735 certainly is. Or at least is able to exist in a perfect state of electronic bliss. I am a dial tone, hear me hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….

click to download SILENCE!#57

SILENCE! is proudly sponsored by the two greatest comics shops on the planet, DAVE’S COMICS of Brighton and GOSH COMICS of London.

Windowpane #1, by Joe Kessler 

 

There’s a point early on in this comic where you realise that you’re not so much watching characters describe a landscape as watching the landscape try work out how to describe itself. This might seem counter-intuitive but from the end of the first story onward the pattern repeats itself – Joe Kessler’s garish, pastel-hued compositions either  break down into their constituent lines after exhaustive exploration or sit there seemingly unaffected by the words and actions that have passed through them.

The best example of the latter category involves a wet-dream about a pig in a dress, whose fall through the night sky is contrasted against an unflinching cityscape with a moment-by-moment precision that does far better justice to the pithy punchline than this description:

In the former category, the Invisible Cities-derived third strip is as close to definitive as Windowpane gets.  The way it links its characters shared status as splashes of ink and colour on the page with their philosophising about the interconnected nature of reality — “…a cluster of atoms resembles a cluster of galaxies.”/”Well they’re both clusters” — might seem trite in isolation, but the surrounding stories make these philosophical observations feel more like a little bit of texture on a varied landscape.

All of this might  sound a bit chilly and distant, but Kessler’s human figures are depicted with a deceptive sort of ease, as a series of curving lines whose relationships to each other is nevertheless very carefully observed and delineated:

 

Still, in keeping with Kessler’s paradoxical thematic schemata it’s the backgrounds that are the focus here, existing as they do on the precise point where detail blurs into abstraction.  The interaction between text and territory here has a sly kinshsip with Dylan Horrocks writing on maps and comics, and perhaps also with Kevin Huizenga’s conception of the comics page as a place for exploration and discovery, but Kessler’s backgrounds have a forcefulness to them that resists his characters attempts at attaching meaning as much as it encourages them.

This is tricky relationship is most clearly explored in the final two strips.  In  the penultimate entry, words shrink on the page as Kessler depicts his precarious human figures parachuting in to kindle-worthy hillscape:

Thought and language here are reduced to a form of quaint annotation, one that is far less effective at providing a guide to this hazardous landscape than the blocky symbols that line these panels.

The final story focuses on a burned lover who – uh, *SPOILERS* – tries to find solace in the freak resemblance between a man and a decapitated bull.  It plays out like a sneaky assurance that the process of muck sitting up, looking itself and trying to figure itself out isn’t totally meaningless. It’s also the sort of assurance that’s both underlined and undermined by the fact that,  unlike any given sunset, you know this resemblance was put there to be noticed.

Click here to read about more gud comics on the site that just can’t seem to quit you, no matter how many resolutions it makes!