I was able to read Yûji Iwahara's King of Thorn volume 3 on my lunch hour today.

For those of you joining mid-story, an untreatable plague had been killing people and showed no signs of slowing down or being cured in the near future. A number of people had taken to being cryogenically frozen in the hopes that a cure would be found, after which time they could be revived. When the protagonists were released, however, they discovered that the complex had been long-abandoned and was now overgrown with pervasive thorny vines and any number of vermin, large and small. The dwindling group who survived has been following the mysterious Marco, who's clearly not letting on as much as he knows.

In this volume, the group (well, most of them -- chapters 12-13 were a discussion about this next point) continues to follow Marco to the enigmatic -- and now flooded -- Level 4. Once there, they run into some difficulty with a brood of mutant frogs. Escaping them, the troupe are able to find a working control room to pump out the water but, in the meantime, we learn that Marco was a CIA agent, and he is in contact with another mysterious character who's been following the group unseen. The book ends with the discovery of a dead Coral Vega, the leader of Level 4 and a cult known as Venus Gate, at his desk with shotgun in his lap and his blood on the walls.

The series still manages to hold my interest as a mystery/survival story. The main plot does seem to be dragged out a bit longer than is necessary, in favor of rousing action sequences. I'm strangely reminded of the old serialized pulp adventures of John Carter or Doc Savage, where there seemed to be a prerequisite crisis every chapter than ended in a cliffhanger to be resolved shortly at the beginning of the subsequent chapter. The main plot could be dragged on for as long as necessary by simply throwing another fight or chase scene into the middle of things. (Modern movies use this frequently, too, but they still try to wrap everything up in 90 minutes so there's no quite as much padding as the serials used to have.) I will say, though, that Yûji comes up with some different threats for everyone to work through/defeat, so readers don't feel things are getting too repetitive. Of course, this is only volume 3, so we'll see if that keeps up.

The art works well enough. There were a few spots where it was difficult to tell what exactly was going on, but I wonder if that may have been helped if ALL of the sound effects had been translated into English. Even those that don't smoothly work across languages could have used some margin notes or something to explain how a scene is supposed to be interpreted. Especially in light of the transition to Level 4, where one of the characters notes the sudden silence, non-Japanese readers don't know if we're talking about a drop from a deafening rumble or a soft hum or an annoying klaxon.

So far King of Thorn has been a volume-to-volume purchase for me. I enjoy it well enough to buy the next one, but I haven't yet been able to really emotionally get behind it and put it on my pull list or anything. Volume 3 here remains about on the same level; I'll be getting volume 4, but I'm not yet willing to consider volume 5 as well. I can see why some people might write the series off entirely (maybe they don't like the genre, or are just sick of it, or whatever) but I'm having trouble seeing why someone would get really excited about it. It's not bad, by any means, but it also doesn't strike me as that original or that well crafted or that compelling that people will flock to it as they might with the work of Goseki Kojima or Osamu Tezuka.

Well, this was a big weekend for comic book fans, what with being the opening weekend for an Iron Man film and Free Comic Book Day being on Saturday. And, like many of you, I'm sure, I was rather busy and haven't had a chance to blog for a few days.

Unlike many of you, though, my weekend had about nothing to do with comics. I'm sure it won't surprise any regular readers why I didn't make it out to see Iron Man and, while I'm a big proponent of FCBD, I didn't make to it any shops either. Between some early morning errands and band-related activities throughout the afternoon/early evening, there was just no way I could make it anywhere. Sunday was pretty busy, as well, setting up my new computer, so not only did I not have much time to blog, but I didn't have anything to blog with!

But that's all (mostly) sorted now, so Kleefeld on Comics should resort to its normal schedule shortly. Thanks for your patience.

"Oh, fer the love of Mike, another pirate comic review, Sean?"

Yes, it's Pirate Week here at Kleefeld on Comics if you hadn't figured that out already. And today I'm looking at Dwight MacPherson's Dead Men Tell No Tales, published by Arcana Studio back in 2005/2006.

The story starts with Captain Kidd capturing the Quedagh Merchant. In its hold, one of his crewmates finds a trinket that strangely calls out to him as valuable. As we learn in subsequent issues, the small trinket contained a map leading to the legendary Holy Grail. Said map then falls through the hands of Blackbeard and Bartholomew Roberts, as readers are given some flashbacks to how Henry Sinclair and the Knights Templar brought this particular treasure to the New World, and the strange affects it had on people.

It seems that any of the ancient relics related to Jesus had an almost narcotic quality about it that drove those who beheld it nearly mad. Those who actually came in contact with the earthenware cup became quite obsessed with it, much like Gollum's relationship with The One Ring. Ultimately, the search for the Grail, according to the comic, directly led to the demise of Sinclair, Kidd, Blackbeard, and Roberts. (Not that piracy lends itself to longevity in the first place!)

The story works well enough. I can see what MacPherson was doing with it, and it flows reasonably well. However, I did have some difficulty getting into it because we switch protagonists repeatedly. The story is generally told through the eyes of the first mate of the various captains. This strikes me as the biggest failing, as we're not only switching viewpoints but we're also somewhat removed from the main players. It's Blackbeard who has the map, but we only see that second-hand. It leaves something of a detached feeling from the story, and readers won't be as engaged as they could be.

The artwork is generally serviceable, but not particularly striking. Although, to be fair, I think part of the problem here is that the coloring (at least in my copy) comes across somewhat dark and muddy. Granted, it's not a story that lends itself to bright and cheerful color palette, but the artwork was not infrequently too dark to readily determine what was going on in the panel. There were also a few action scenes that seemed to be lacking a little clarity, but that might be explained by multiple artists working on the books.

The only other thing I might bring up -- not as a complaint, mind you, just a question -- is the basic plot premise. I know there have been a number of stories of people seeking the Holy Grail and how they can turn their search into an obsession, but this particular story seemed to have a darker and more sinister tone to it. There were several references to the Grail actively calling out to people in an almost sentient way. This gave me the impression that the Grail -- generally considered one of the holiest of holy relics in Christianity -- was actually an entity of evil. And, while I'm not a devout theologian of any sort, it struck me as decidedly at odds with other Grail stories I know. That may or may not have been MacPherson's intent, but I guess I wasn't sure how to interpret his message in that regard.

The book was, overall, not a bad read. Not a great one, but not bad either. Since the books is available for free on Wowio, it's definitely worth the time to download and read the four issues; I just wouldn't spend a lot of time/effort trying to track down the dead tree copies of it.

I'm usually pretty up-to-speed with what comics are coming out when, but I really enjoy getting surprised form time to time when things show up sooner than I anticipated or I "discover" something as it comes out that was completely flying below my radar.

Yesterday, I received my comp copies of Kirby Five-Oh! in the mail (a day earlier than it went on sale) and it is abso-frickin-lutely gorgeous! If you have ANY interest in Jack Kirby, I highly recommend you pick this up. It will look great next to your copy of Kirby: King of Comics. I can't wait to see the hardcover version!

The other surprise was in the comic shop today as I was browsing the new releases. It's a web comic that totally flew beneath my radar and, regardless of how good or bad it actually is, I couldn't pass up on the title or the price. Ninety-nine cent comics aren't exactly common, but it's a great (I think) gimmick to get people to try a new title. The other thing this book had going for it was the incredibly catchy title: I Was Kidnapped by Lesbian Pirates from Outer Space! How could you not want to pick that up off the shelf?!?

Evidently if you want to go the cheap route on the latter of those books (or just sample it before buying), IWKBLPFOS is available for free via Drunk Duck.

Maybe it's just me, but has anyone else noticed a seeming resurgence in ligne clair comics? You know, the stuff where people immediately start making comparisons to Tintin? Here's a quick description, courtesy of Wikipedia...

Ligne claire (French for "clear line") is a style of drawing pioneered by Hergé, the Belgian creator of The Adventures of Tintin. It is a style of drawing which uses clear strong lines which have the same thickness and importance, rather than being used to emphasize certain objects or be used for shading (for this reason it is sometimes also called the democracy of lines). Additionally, the style often features strong colours and a combination of cartoonish characters against a realistic background. The use of shadows is sparse and all elements of a panel are delineated with clear black lines. The name was coined by Joost Swarte in 1977.

Well, I stumbled on Les McClaine's Jonny Crossbones last night. It's the story of Jonny Crossbones (a young man who inexplicably looks like he's wearing a skeleton Halloween costume, which is seemingly wholly unnoticed by all the other characters) and Gretchen Fiveash (the niece of a wealthy archaeologist and researcher) who find themselves pulled in to an adventure, as two unethical professors from the local university have begun stealing antique pistols that once belonged to the pirate Captain Bill Strangler in the hopes of finding his lost treasure.

The story thus far is indeed reminiscent of Tintin, both in the artistic style McClaine uses as well as the overall themes and structure of the strip. Two things stand out as markedly different, though. First and (and for our purposes here) most superficial is that McClaine is using the web as his delivery system instead of dead trees. Second is that the character design of Jonny is unique in his world. All of the rest of the characters would be equally at home in a story about Tintin or Tozo or Julius Chancer (Rainbow Orchid). But Jonny stands out almost as a silhouette. I think it works decidedly in McClaine's favor, as the reader can more easily see themselves in the protagonist. While the character does stand out, his visual resemblance to a skeleton identifies him as the true everyman -- he's been stripped of everything that marks him as a unique individual to what we all have in common. (Curiously, stripping all of his unique features in a world where those features are not normally stripped away makes him just as unique as everyone else!)

The opening (and current) storyline is called "Dead Man at Devil's Cove" and has been running since late 2004. It serves as an introduction to all the characters and does an excellent job of presenting them and their relationships. The plot moves along briskly, but it doesn't seem overly rushed, showcasing McClaine's good sense of pacing. So while the comparisons to Hergé will largely be more geared towards the ligne clair, they will also be apt with regards to the overall approach. Fortunately, though, McClaine's is a different enough type of story that it doesn't feel like he's trampling on Hergé's grave or trying to ride on his coattails. He took notes from the man, but isn't copying from him.

My understanding is that the first two chapters have been printed in pamphlet form, but I can find no real evidence of this. I can only find one oblique reference McClaine makes to the first chapter being printed, and one database that suggests the books' publication -- although no one seems to have any actual concrete information about them.

With that said, you're probably best off reading what's been posted online. Due to his apartment building flooding and the subsequent green-lighting of his and Javier Grillo-Marxuach's The Middleman as a TV series for ABC, he hasn't made any story updates since late 2007. That should give you guys plenty of time to catch up on the latest adventures of Jonny Crossbones...

Richard Becker was an art student in the mid-1970s and became a painter after being influenced by the likes of Howard Pyle and N.C. Wyeth. Beginning in the late 1980s, he gravitated towards the theme of pirates and he's become one of the most prolific artists to work on the subject. In 1992, he started his own publishing company, Black Swan Press, and produced eight issues of Bloodthirsty Pirate Tales. Unlike many pirate-themed comics, Becker's were primarily accounts of real pirates with special features on weapons, ships, etc. of the time. In 2002, he revived the idea for two issues of Pirate Tales.

Both issues have the same basic structure. They open with a lengthy story; have a few shorter, illustrated, informational pieces; there's another, shorter comic story; they have a text piece discussing piratical pulp novels; and the books close out with a few pin-up pages. Most of the material is written and drawn by Becker, but some of the pieces are by the likes of Dick Swan, Spain Rodriguez, and Dave Matsuoka.

Becker's background in painting is evident throughout the books. Although printed in black and white, his painted pieces are attractive and have pretty solid layouts. Although he does have a distinctly different style than Pyle or Wyeth, their influence is evident.

Becker's pen and ink pieces -- the longer, introductory stories -- don't fare quite as well. His individual panel layouts work fairly well, but his page layouts hamper some of the panel-to-panel readability. It's sometimes difficult to follow how the text on the page is supposed to be read due to occasionally unusual panel distinctions and poor balloon or caption placements. Further, the illustrations themselves -- while executed well in and of themselves -- are a bit overly fussy for reproduction as a comic book. I suspect many of the fine lines would get lost were the issue shrunk to a "normal" comic size instead of the larger magazine size it is.

I think, though, that the biggest weakness in these books is that Becker could use a stronger editor. There wasn't anything obviously bad with his writing, but there were a few instances where there were noticeable (to me) changes in the style of dialogue, so characters didn't seem consistent. I also noticed a number of errors in punctuation that, in at least two instances, made understanding the text much more difficult than it should have been. The stories were readable and generally enjoyable, but they could have been much more powerful with a slightly different approach.

The comics have a cover price of $7.00 each, and I paid $6.95 for mine. For that price, I can't say I recommend either of the books. Worth taking a look if you find them in a bargain bin, though. Personally, I'd prefer seeing more of Becker's paintings and his Pirate Art Book might be worth grabbing.

Becker recently released the graphic novel Blackbeard the Pirate and regularly does a one-page comic called "Captain Scurvy" for Pirates magazine. I haven't seen the graphic novel (which reprints his Blackbeard stories from Bloodthirsty Pirate Tales) but the comics are fully painted pieces and are mildly amusing.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at my local comic shop and the owner told me that he had recently picked up several boxes of comics that I might be interested in; lots of off-the-beaten-path stuff. As I began browsing through the boxes, I did indeed find a number of things I'd been interested in... complete runs of The Waiting Place vol. 2, Mister X, and Heart of Empire for example. I also stumbled across a complete set of Colonia by Jeff Nicholson.

The story opens with Jack and his two uncles escaping from a pirate ship as it goes up in flames. We soon learn that their modern casual dress is not in fact apocryphal, and that they seem to have slipped from their present into a world who's reality is similar, but markedly different than our own. Things become more surreal as Jack meets another band of pirates, headless Spanish Conquistadors, a slip-side traveler from yet another reality, a talking duck named Lucy, some mermaids, an angry tribe of Aztecs, and a group of semi-intelligible, bowling dwarves who've captured Jack's grandfather believing him to be Rip Van Winkle. Not surprisingly, Jack and his family just want to go home, so they use the golden eggs laid by Lucy to fund the pirates' sojourn up the coast of Colonia to where Massachusetts (and their home) ought to be.

The story is somewhat reminiscent of other fanciful, stranger-in-a-strange-land stories like Wizard of Oz or Abadazad. One of the twists here, though, is that the bizarre qualities of this new world aren't as immediately apparent and even those that are noticed are initially written off by the protagonists as eccentricities. What's easier to believe, after all: that you've been captured by time-displaced pirates or that you've been captured by some modern pirates who dress up in 17th century style clothing? That you've been talking to a six-foot tall man with fish for his heads, hands and feet or that you bumped your head on a rock when you washed ashore?

Despite the cursory similarities to other stories in that ballpark, Colonia does not really draw upon them directly, preferring instead to recreate the general feeling of wonder and adventure, rather than rehashing existing material. Creator Jeff Nicholson does an admirable job presenting the story, as well, as readers experience the oddities of this world right alongside Jack. We know what he knows, and the mystery of how he ended up on this world is revealed to us in exactly the same way one might unravel the problem if you were experiencing it first-hand.

The art is generally charming. There's something of a simplicity to it that invites the reader in. Of particular interest to me is that, despite the simplicity, the characters are all readily identifiable at a glance and all of the female characters sport different looks and body types. This is NOT like the art one might find in an Archie book where Betty and Veronica only differ in their hair color.

There were a couple of spots which seemed at something of a discord with the rest of the books. Not that those portions were badly drawn, mind you -- in fact, they were drawn better than the rest of the book, as Nicholson was using reference material. Fortunately, the references are mainly limited to buildings and structures so the characters are able to remain consistent throughout the series.

I was actually somewhat disappointed when I got to the end of #11 to see Jack being captured in a classic "to be continued" moment. From the research I had done, there's been no 12th issue in the several years since it was published. Even after the whole series had been collected in TPB form by AiT/Planet Lar. Although his Colonia Press web site seems to be down now, a cached Google version of it cites a third trade paperback coming in 2009 with entirely new material, presumably picking up where #11 leaves off. That should give curious readers ample time to track down the first two trades and read them before the next chapter is released.