No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai, illustrated by Junji Ito

Most of the times that I've tried to get into manga, it's never stuck. Maybe I'm just showing my age or lack of sophistication. Who knows. But my husband has been a long-time fan of manga artist Junji Ito, who is apparently also a great lover of cats, which makes anyone a much better person, if you ask me. Ito is known chiefly for his horror manga, and I've glanced at some of the content and found it to be about as unsettling and oddly compelling as good art can be. 

So, when the husband splurged out on a hardcover copy of Ito's adaption of Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human, I allowed that now would be the time I'd get over myself and actually read manga. This is quality stuff, apparently. I was not disappointed.

Look, I'm a complete pleb. My first difficulty was getting used to reading a book from the back to front, and to read from right to left. I won't lie, it was jarring at first, but I got used to it. No Longer Human is the story about Yozo Oba. As a boy, he suffers terrible anxiety about people's opinions about him – so he is always clowning around to gain their approval, until the day his friend Takeichi sees right through Yozo's tactics to win others' approval.

What follows is a dark plunge into dissolution and existential horror, as Yozo makes one poor decision after another – it's like watching a train wreck. I eventually could not put down this hefty tome until I'd reached the last, terrible sequence. As an aside, Dazai himself suffered a tragic ending, which is eerily prescient in the narrative of his writing.

I'll be honest, I know next to nothing about manga. Also, please don't recommend other books to me in the hopes that I will read them. I'm incredibly picky. Why I liked No Longer Human was the terrible authenticity of the telling and the unrelenting, crushing existential dread. My own life feels like cherry blossoms in comparison. Ito's art is clean and doesn't have that sameness that I've picked up in other manga that I've glanced at. In fact, the level of detail in those black and white strokes is absolutely staggering and rather hypnotic. We have a huge pile of his books here at home, and I expect at some point I'll dip into them when the mood fits.

The Sandman (Sandman Audible Original #1) by Neil Gaiman and adapted by Dirk Maggs

A friend of mine back in varsity days introduced me to Neil Gaiman's The Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman, and ever since then I've aimed to tell stories that echo some of the resonance I've felt since reading the comics. And I have always been nervous about possible adaptions of this incredible comic book series. Especially given the track record of so many other adaptions I've seen that didn't quite do justice to the source material.

It's also bloody difficult to explain what The Sandman is in brief, because it exists as such a glorious mashup of history, myth and comic book legacy. I'd like to say that it is a story about stories, especially where all the stories we've ever told or have dreamt, intersect in a weird liminal state with history and possible futures. And every time I've dipped into The Sandman, depending on where I'm at in my life, I've had very different takeaways.

At a glance, this is a story about Dream, or Morpheus, the lord of the dream realm, who has been captured by magicians who have rashly endeavoured to capture Death. Sundered from his powers for seventy years, he has to reclaim his tools and, eventually his purpose. He is not alone, however. He is an anthropomorphic representation of the Seven Endless: Death, Dream, Desire, Destruction, Delirium, Destiny and Despair. They are more than gods, and they rule and to a degree ruled by all things. 

I've always felt that American Gods was a pale echo of the excellence Gaiman attained in The Sandman, so if you've seen or read the former, then The Sandman will provide a far richer, darker and intoxicating experience. And I wondered how on earth anyone would be able to adapt the series of comics into an audio format. But credit is giving to Dirk Maggs. He's done good. Really good with Gaiman's work. 

It was an incredible experience to have familiar stories brought to life in a vivid soundscape. I also cried ugly tears not once, but twice, while listening. Which is quite something considering that all the material is familiar to me. Interestingly enough, I spoke to someone who hadn't read the comic books first, and she admitted that she found The Sandman quite dark, and a bit scary, which I suppose it is. So if horror elements aren't quite your jam, be warned, there's some by the ladles full.

And a word on actors James McAvoy and Kat Dennings, who play Dream and Death respectively – they had a wonderful chemistry, especially in "The Sound of her Wings" which has always been one of my favourite sequences in the comics. 

I could probably gush on endlessly about this production. As a long-time fan of everything Neil Gaiman, this is honestly one of the highlights of my reading/listening career. Don't miss this one.

PS, I'm cautiously optimistic that the TV series is going to be peachy keen. And not just because Gaiman is deeply involved in it. Maggs has done an outstanding job with the radio play, showing how it can be done.

PPS, I won't complain if James McAvoy is cast as Dream for the TV series.

New Men issues 1-3 by Murewa Yodele and Dotun Akande, edited by Nicole D'Andria

 I don't read comic books nearly as much as I wish I had time for, so when New Men issues 1-3 landed on my desk, I was more than happy to say yes. With the story by Murewa Yodele and art by Dotun Akande, I was plunged into a pleasing subversion of the standard super hero trope.

The creators ask the question, "What if incipient superheroes are hunted down before they can establish themselves?" Which does make me wonder how our governments would respond in real life if mutants manifesting super powers were to become a regular occurrence.

We kick off book 1 with Faith, who comes into her powers when she and her boyfriend leap of a building (leap of faith, get it...). She manifests powers; he doesn't. The premise is that those who look into the face of death without fear can become gods, the so-called "New Men". And there are those who want to stop these New Men from existing – the anti-New Men agents.

Considering what the agents are up against, it comes as no surprise that there's a high turnover in the workforce, but there are always more to take their place. Enter Shade. She's somewhat unusual in that she's been in the business of killing for more than 12 years (nine years longer than your average agent). And not only is she ferociously good at her job, she enjoys it.

Okay, so any more than that, we enter spoiler territory. New Men is a wonderfully gritty, African-centric take on the whole superhero vibe. It's well drawn and I love the finish to the graphics that have a slightly decon, glitchy feel to them. New Men is ultraviolent, lavishly coloured, and fast paced, with a slick overall finish. My only critique is that some of the transitions were a little on the jagged edge, so the story begs a second read-through to catch any of the twists missed the first time round. Not a deal breaker, but I really just enjoyed the trip.

A lot of love has been lavished on this story, and it gets a huge thumbs up from me. Give it a shot and show some love for African SFF.

The Witcher: House of Glass by Paul Tobin

I wanted to give The Witcher: House of Glass by Paul Tobin a solid 5 stars but I felt that the story fell a little flat for me. We could have had a better idea of what was on Geralt's mind, but it seemed as if he was just floundering around, especially with some situations – if the dead wife was trapped by the cursed house, then how was it that she appeared on the hill every evening where her husband stayed at the edge of the forest? Some of the elements also didn't feel as if they held together smoothly – like the hag and the corpses.

The art, on the other hand is lovely, loose and atmospheric, and made the comic book a great read that remains true to the essence of the Witcher universe. Also, you don't need to have read any of the books or played the games to know what's going on. It's a straight-up monster hunt, but with a slight twist at the end.

Highlander: The American Dream

Something that I’ve started to do a bit more often these days is read comic books using my kindle app on my iPad – the experience has been quite painless and thoroughly enjoyable, especially when it comes down to purchasing and downloading collections. My friends will know I’m a huge fan of the Highlander franchise (and pity them, some of them had to put up with my obsession since high school – if one of you’re reading this now, realise that I’m waving at you right now). Lately I’ve been dipping back into the Highlander fandom, and it’s even more enjoyable now since it’s so much easier for me to lay hands on the assorted films, series and books – unlike the early 1990s when the internet wasn’t within the reach of mere mortals.

Highlander: The American Dream is a comic series that came out last year (2017) written by Brian Ruckley with art by Andrea Mutti. Generally I tend to be wary of tie-ins but this offering was solid, as in I immediately went back to page through particular sections and I felt that as a prequel The American Dream filled in some gaps for the Connor MacLeod we’ve come to know and love from the first film. More importantly, this offering stays true to the spirit of the very first film, so it will most likely keep the purists happy.

I’m happy enough to add the events here to my headcanon, and themes that are elaborated on are Connor’s loneliness and the burden placed on him and a few other Immortals to counteract the evil of other Immortals such as the Kurgan and, of course the antagonist in The American Dream – John Hooke, who has rather a lot in common with a rabid dog.

We also see the uneasy partnership between Connor and another Immortal, the monk Osta Vazilek (shades of Darius echoing there, perhaps?) as they hunt Hooke down through the ages – so expect hopping between the periods of the American Civil War, the 1950s and the mid-1980s. We also get to see the plucky Rachel in action – and she most certainly has gumption. I’ve always loved her as a character – she dedicated herself to Connor and clearly was utterly devoted to him, despite the fact that he held himself aloof from everyone around him.

Overall, the narrative was engaging – this is a stock-standard “hunt the evil Immortals” battle that dovetails well with the first film. The colouring was lovely; Vladimir Popov has done an excellent job. I especially loved the illustrations between the issues by Claudia Gironi, which evoked Connor so well. As for the art, I’m not hundred percent sure I liked the way Mutti drew Connor or the other characters – there was a lot of sameness in their facial features, and Connor just looked bland without the intensity of the stare that Lambert gifted him in the film. But this wasn’t a deal-breaker for me because the overall production quality was high, and it’s clear that a great deal of thought was put into the visual composition.

Alabaster: Wolves by Caitlin Kiernan #review

Title: Alabaster: Wolves
Author: Caitlin R Kiernan
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics, 2013
Link

This is my first encounter with Dancy Flammarion, and possibly the first comic book I’ve read since I last read through the entire The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman. The artwork is well-executed and evokes the disintegrated landscape.

A drifter, Dancy Flammarion holds onto her religious background as a moral compass while she goes about slaying such monsters as she encounters. Much like Joan of Arc, this teenage girl is guided by a vengeful, fiery seraph which may or may not exist as a figment of her imagination.

In Alabaster: Wolves, written by Caitlin R Kiernan and illustrated by Steve Leiber, we join Dancy as she waits for the bus in an abandoned Southern town. Almost immediately she is beset upon by a young girl who’s a lot more than what she appears—and Dancy is pressed into a game of riddles that has dire consequences.

Abandoned by her angelic guide, Dancy must face a great evil, ultimately coming to terms with deeper issues, such as whether she acts on her own will or remains a pawn of others. I’m reminded of the quote of Friedrich Nietzsche: Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Who is the real monster? Dancy, or the creatures she kills? Either way, readers will be drawn into a world that hints at yet never full explains darker, blood-drenched mysteries. Not for the fainthearted, Alabastar: Wolves has tantalised me just enough to want to delve further into Kiernan’s creations. If you loved The Sandman, then go pick up this offering. It leaves you feeling somewhat scratchy behind the eyes, and piqued because you feel like you’ve only had a glimpse at a small fragment of the bigger story.