Guide to the Editions: Sandman

Sandman
written by Neil Gaiman

Originally published as Sandman #1-75 from January 1989 to March 1996 under DC (through #46) and subsequently under the newly launched Vertigo imprint, under which it became one of their most popular and most enduring titles.

Trade Paperbacks:

1.  Preludes and Nocturnes (ISBN 978-1563890116):  Collects #1-8
2.  The Doll's House (ISBN 978-0930289591):  Collects #9-16
3.  Dream Country  (ISBN 978-1563890161):  Collects #17-20
4.  Season of Mists  (ISBN 978-1563890413):  Collects #21-28
5.  A Game of You  (ISBN 978-1563890895):  Collects #32-37
6.  Fables and Reflections  (ISBN 978-1563891052):  Collects #29-31, 38-40, 50, "The Song of Orpheus" from Sandman Special #1, "Fear of Falling" from Vertigo Preview #1
7.  Brief Lives  (ISBN 978-1852865771):  Collects #41-49
8.  Worlds' End  (ISBN 978-1563891700):  Collects #51-56
9.  The Kindly Ones  (ISBN 978-1563892059):  Collects #57-69, Vertigo Jam #1
10.  The Wake  (ISBN 978-1563892790):  Collects #70-75

These editions are currently—and very likely permanently—out of print.  They have been subsequently replaced by the "New Editions" (see below).  Following the series' conclusion in 1996, Gaiman returned to the Sandman universe in two illustrated prose volumes published separately from the TPB collections.  The first, from 1999, was a novella illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano called The Dream Hunters (ISBN 978-1563896293; hardcover ISBN 978-1563896739), an entirely fabricated Japanese folktale in which Morpheus is a key figure.  In 2008-2009, it was adapted into a four-part mini-series by P. Craig Russell (ISBN 978-1401224288), also available in a hardcover edition (ISBN 978-1401224240).  The second, from 2003, was Endless Nights (ISBN 978-1401201135), a collection of stories, each featuring one of the Endless siblings.  In addition, Gaiman edited, though did not contribute to, a 1996 collection—from Harper publishing—of short fiction by popular sci-fi, fantasy and horror authors inspired by the Sandman universe and characters, entitled The Sandman: Book of Dreams (currently only available as a mass market paperback, ISBN 978-0380817702, though previously in hardcover—ISBN 978-0061008337—and paperback—ISBN 978-0061053542).

Absolute Editions:
As part of DC's Absolute series, which re-releases collections of their most historically popular titles under DC, Wildstorm, and Vertigo, these prestige editions are beautiful, if incredibly expensive, archival volumes.  Bound in fine hardcover with a sturdy slipcover, featuring new artwork by series cover artist and frequent Gaiman collaborator Dave McKean, the Absolute editions present the same texts produced elsewhere in an enlarged (8''x12'') format, with re-colored (issues #1-18, shown below) and re-mastered illustrations.  Unlike the TPBs, which collect most of the one-shots under Fables and Reflections, the Absolute editions reproduce the issues in their order of release.  As a rule, they also include copious supplementary material on the series' creation and production, though these extras are of considerably variable interest and quality.

original coloring (left); re-colored (right)

1.  Absolute Sandman, Volume 1 (ISBN 978-1401210823; MSRP $99.99):  Collects #1-20.  Of all the Absolute Sandman editions, Volume 1 includes the best additional material:  the complete original series proposal, several early character sketches of his characters by Gaiman himself and other artists, and the script for #19, "A Midsummer Night's Dream," winner of the World Fantasy Award for Best Short Fiction in 1991, the first comic to do so in this category.
2.  Absolute Sandman, Volume 2 (ISBN 978-1401210830; MSRP $99.99):  Collects #21-39.  Extras include two newly reprinted stories by Gaiman (one prose and the other illustrated), a newly reprinted one-shot Sandman:  A Gallery of Dreams, and the script to Chapter Two of Season of Mists.
3.  Absolute Sandman, Volume 3 (ISBN 978-1401210847: MSRP $99.99):  Collects #40-56, "Fear of Falling" from Vertigo Preview #1, and "The Song of Orpheus" from Sandman Special #1.  Additional material also collects Desire's story from Vertigo: Winter's Edge #3, The Endless Gallery #1, the script for #50, and a detailed section on Sandman-related merchandise.
4.  Absolute Sandman, Volume 4 (ISBN 978-1401210854; MSRP $99.99):  Collects #57-75, Vertigo Jam #1. 
5.  Absolute Sandman, Volume 5 (ISBN 978-1401232023; MSRP $99.99):  Collects The Sandman: Endless Nights, The Dream Hunters (both the prose novella with illustrations and the comic adaptation by Russell), Sandman Midnight Theatre.

Annotated Editions:  

In January of 2012, Vertigo began releasing annotated volumes of Sandman.  Leslie S. Klinger, annotator of Norton's Sherlock Holmes and Dracula volumes and friend of Gaiman, has been delegated the task.  Working with Gaiman's original Sandman scripts, he identifies references both from within and outside the DC universe.  These hardcover, black-and-white editions reprint the larger format inked illustrations with marginal notes, rendering the full edition 12''x12''.  Annotations are comprehensive, designed as much for critical analysis as leisure reading, much like Klinger's Sherlock Holmes editions, and as such are ideally suitable for readers already comfortable with Sandman's literary and comic roots, even if they somewhat pedantically reiterate some of its more obvious allusions.  Critical and fan reception to these volumes consequently has been mixed, though most agree the project itself is a worthy undertaking.  Although, to date, only two have been released, according to a 2010 press release Vertigo plans a total of four annotated volumes.  (Edit:  As of the final release date in December 2015, all four volumes have been completed and released.)

1.  Annotated Sandman, Volume 1 (ISBN 978-1401233327; MSRP $49.99):  Collects #1-20
2.  Annotated Sandman, Volume 2 (ISBN 978-1401235666; MSRP $49.99):  Collects #21-39
3.  Annotated Sandman, Volume 3 (ISBN 978-1401241025; MSRP $49.99):  Collects #40-56, Sandman Special #1, "How They Met Themselves" from Vertigo: Winter's Edge #3
4.  Annotated Sandman, Volume 4 (ISBN 978-1401243227; MSRP $49.99):  Collects #57-75

New Trade Paperbacks:

Beginning in late 2010 and culminating in the release of a complete collection with slipcase (pictured, ISBN 978-1401238636; MSRP $199.99, though some retailers have the slipcase available with the final trade volume, ISBN 978-1401240097; MSRP $22.99) in November of 2012, Vertigo began releasing new editions of the trade paperbacks with the re-colored and re-mastered images from the Absolute editions. 

1.  Preludes and Nocturnes  (ISBN 978-1401225759; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #1-8
2.  The Doll's House  (ISBN 978-1401227999; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #9-16
3.  Dream Country  (ISBN 978-1401229351; MSRP $14.99):  Collects #17-20
4.  Season of Mists  (ISBN 978-1401230425; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #21-28
5.  A Game of You  (ISBN 978-1401230432; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #32-37
6.  Fables and Reflections  (ISBN 978-1401231231; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #29-31, 38-40, 50, "The Song of Orpheus" from Sandman Special #1, "Fear of Falling" from Vertigo Preview #1
7.  Brief Lives  (ISBN 978-1401232634; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #41-49
8.  Worlds' End  (ISBN 978-1401234027; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #51-56
9.  The Kindly Ones  (ISBN 978-1401235451; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #57-69, Vertigo Jam #1
10.  The Wake  (ISBN 9781401237547; MSRP $19.99):  Collects #70-75

Omnibus Editions:  

In addition to the Absolute series and the newly remastered TPB collection, Vertigo has also packaged the series in two volumes of the Sandman Omnibus, a more economical, if incredibly unwieldy, hardcover alternative to the prestige Absolute editions.  These volumes are roughly equivalent to DC/Vertigo's deluxe editions.  Like the Absolute editions and new TPBs, the Omnibus will include the new coloring on the first eighteen issues.  Unlike the TPBs it will include a slightly enlarged page format, but unlike the Absolute editions, it will not include much additional material.

1.  Sandman Omnibus, Volume 1 (ISBN 978-1401241889; MSRP $150.00):  Collects #1-37, Sandman Special #1 
2.  Sandman Omnibus, Volume 2 (ISBN 978-1401243142; MSRP $150.00):  Collects #38-75, Vertigo Jam #1, and Vertigo: Winter's Edge #3


Electronic Editions:
Currently, all individual issues and standard collected volumes are available on electronic platforms, such as the Amazon Kindle store (original run TPBs retail for $9.99, individual issues not recommended) and Comixology (original run TPBs retail for $12.99, individual issues for $1.99) among others, though it is advised you check availability of the full collection from your preferred retailer before purchasing any of the volumes or, especially, single issues.  Supplementary features and special editions are not available electronically.


Addendum:  Death Editions
During Sandman's initial run, Gaiman also wrote two three-issue limited series featuring Dream's surprisingly pleasant sister Death, both published under Vertigo and subsequently released in TPBs:  Death: The High Cost of Living (from 1993; ISBN 978-1563891335) and Death: The Time of Your Life (from 1996; ISBN 978-1563893339).  These editions are, however, periodically unavailable, and have been replaced by more popular collected editions of Death's appearances.

Absolute Death (ISBN 978-1401224639; MSRP $99.99):  Collects Death: The High Cost of Living #1-3; Death: The Time of Your Life #1-3; Sandman #8 "The Sound of Her Wings" and #20 "Façade"; "Death and Venice" from Endless Nights; stories "A Winter's Tale" and "The Wheel"; and the AIDS awareness pamphlet "Death Talks About Life".  This edition is designed to match the rest of the Absolute library, including an enlarged format and archival quality print, a fine leather binding and a hard slipcover.  It also includes a number of extras, such as a larger character gallery and Gaiman's script for Sandman #8, Death's first appearance in comics.

Death Deluxe Edition (ISBN 978-1401235482; MSRP $29.99):  Collects Death: The High Cost of Living #1-3; Death: The Time of Your Life #1-3; Sandman #8 "The Sound of Her Wings" and #20 "Façade"; "Death and Venice" from Endless Nights; stories "A Winter's Tale" and "The Wheel"; and the AIDS awareness pamphlet "Death Talks About Life".  The Deluxe edition includes in a hardcover binding all the same primary material as the Absolute volume with a significantly smaller price tag. 


Addendum:  Sandman: Overture Editions

The Sandman: Overture #2, cover by Dave McKean

From December 2013 to November 2015 Gaiman re-teamed with illustrator J. H. Williams III, variant cover artist Dave McKean, and Vertigo to release a 6-issue series about Morpheus' adventure immediately before being captured in Sandman #1.  This has been subsequently collected in both a standard TPB and DC's normal deluxe edition.

The Sandman: Overture (ISBN 978-1401265199; MSRP $19.99):  Collects The Sandman: Overture #1-6.

The Sandman: Overture Deluxe Edition (ISBN 978-1401248963; MSRP $24.99):  Collects The Sandman: Overture #1-6.  Unlike some other deluxe editions from Vertigo, this one doesn't seem to contain any additional supplemental content, no more than the paperback version.  It differs only in having a hardcover binding.




*UPDATED June 10, 2017

Bedlam #4

"If I Started Talking About Religion"
written by Nick Spencer
art by Riley Rossmo

Would you believe me if I told you a comic about a reformed child-killer was funny?  Certainly, a wry brand of cynical absurdity fueled earlier issues of Bedlam, but "If I Started Talking About Religion" transformed this undercurrent into a quiet, slowly burgeoning humor, a humor in which Spencer and Rossmo are in close collusion, most of which relies on the emerging ad hoc threesome-in-crime-fighting of Det. Acevedo, the brawny city hero the First, and scrawny, socially awkward, supervillain-turned-unwanted-police-consultant Fillmore Press.  When the First, all fist, lays out Press, it owes as much to Looney Tunes-style slapstick animation as action thrillers.  Or later, having just been cleared as a suspect but still quite literally in the grasp of the First, an unresisting Press quips, "Not gonna ask for an apology..." (p. 16), and shortly after finds himself allied with his super-hero counterpart in demanding an answer from Det. Acevedo.  In a masterful use of the page-break at 17-18, once a slightly smug Press interjects--"Two to one!  Tiebreaker!  That clinches it!"--into an escalating confrontation between the detective and the First, they both whip around to stare menacingly at Press, who backs off a little, "Well I don't see how else we'll resolve this...".  Each time I re-read Bedlam #4, something I've found myself wanting to do again and again, it's funnier, more nuanced, and more rewarding.

But its humor doesn't blunt the eeriness of the series' murders.  Eric self-mutilated and self-fashioned Angel of Death is, if possible, even more sinister than Madder Red.  In contrast to the spectacle, bombast and chaos that drove Madder Red's acts, this new serial killer possesses a quiet, calm deliberateness, which is more frightening in its iciness and ease.  Issue 4's final few pages point to a gruesome impending endgame for Eric's spree, one which whether in the next issue or the one after promises a tense, if staid, confrontation between Fillmore Press and another killer, one in which he will doubtless be able to discern the worst elements of his former self and perhaps illuminate the new differences between them.
 

The Black Beetle #2

"No Way Out" (2 of 4)
by Francesco Francavilla

The Beetle's escape from the Fort, Colt City's Alcatraz look-alike, is (admittedly) a little underwhelming, if fully in keeping with the comic's noir aesthetic.  The Black Beetle is just the kind of '30s-inspired crime fighter that keeps just the right equipment to make his unplanned escape, even if he, a little unlike his generic predecessors, self-reflectively acknowledges the topos:  "I've learned that, in my case, 'unlikely to happen' is often likely to happen" (p. 5).  And, fortuitously as it happens in comics, the thwarted plans of the Nazi Werewolf Korps to steal the Hollow Lizard have not been surrendered, and are, no doubt, linked to the Beetle's current troubles.

But if his escape from the Fort is less than inspired, his jaunt in the abandoned underground station is thrilling.  It may rely on the same convenient accidents of fortune to find the entrance, the ring, and the matchbook, but this one involves sewer rats.  Labyrinto's emergence out of the shadows is surprisingly creepy, and man-eating rats haven't been this ravenous since 1984.  And this time the escape seems appropriately improvised.  It is still a bit of a puzzle why no one in Colt City—the young, helpful boy outside the club, cops at the prison, or here Labyrinto himself—seems to know who the Black Beetle is.  He is not a recognizable crime fighter known to the city's citizens or villains.

This episode's real revelation is its conclusion, and it has nothing to do with dramatic plot twists.  Though I hadn't noticed it before, it's the Black Beetle's normal persona that is so shadowy and guarded and strangely as much of a mystery as Labyrinto's identity.  The confessional detective story lulls the reader into a sense of intimacy and familiarity with the series' protagonist, but not until the final two pages, in which his face remains obscured, his name unknown, do we realize that we really don't know this man at all.

Revival #7

written by Tim Seeley
art by Mike Norton

Revival has opted for a more aggregate story-telling approach to its Wisconsin-bred alive-again-ers.  While its first few issues pointedly raised several questions about the nature and cause of the "revival" itself and the "revived," subsequent issues have gravitated more toward individual stories tangentially associated with the event.  And narrative arcs are simultaneous rather than sequential, as comics—particularly those prepping for TPB-dom—are wont to be arranged.  This is not a criticism.  In fact, it gives Revival the sense of a longer vision, but it consequently elevates the demands on its readers, who must recall details from events several issues prior in order to begin piecing together the larger story Seeley and Norton are telling.

Issue 7 is the inevitable consequence of this mode of storytelling, a somewhat piecemeal single issue that struggles with its own cohesion but fits very nicely into the series as a whole.  Most of the issue is spent resolving the murder of Justin Hine, but interspersed within this story are the continued and escalating trouble along the quarantine, a very brief—i.e., 2-page—introduction to the gruesome Check brothers, a briefer—i.e., 1-page—glimpse of reporter May Tao, a tantalizing scene between Martha Cypress and fellow reviver Jeannie Gorski, and the discovery of some unexpected cargo in a highway crash.  Thus far, Seeley has quite admirably, in my opinion, steered well clear of cheap, summarizing exposition, but Revival is approaching a dangerous horizon, at which it will have begun too many threads to adequately engage any of them, and it needs an issue once in a while that suspends the more immediate detective mysteries, which have recently occupied most of its page-count, in order to address its central questions.

Norton's art is certainly adequate to the task, though not much exceptional is asked of him here.  He does adeptly handle the unenviable burden of differentiating so many secondary characters with few textual cues.  And some of the crowd and highway scenes reward close scrutiny.

[February 2013]

Bedlam #3

"Let Him Have His Fun"
written by Nick Spencer
art by Riley Rossmo

While issues 1 and 2 of Bedlam had several really prize storytelling ideas and darkly beautiful artwork, the trajectory of the series remained difficult to tease out. Issue 3, “Let Him Have His Fun,” consolidates some of the best elements floating around in the first two and brings its main ideas into sharp relief. In other words, even though enjoying the series’ opening episodes, I was still on the fence about Bedlam. No longer.

Part of Bedlam’s early unevenness had been its uneasy fusion of horror noir and psychedelic superhero fantasy. Madder Red, though he is much indebted to the Joker in his comic book lineage, feels far less like a supervillain than his predecessor, despite his mask. Nevertheless his mysterious incarceration and his Clockwork Orange-esque behavioral reclamation by a team of freak show doctors and nurses along with his shadowy rivalry with the thus-far peripheral superhero the First place Madder Red soundly in the realm of caped heroes and maniacal villains. By the third installment, this fusion has become more familiar and less disorienting, if through nothing but acclimation, and this issue’s ending promises further integration of these genres.

Unexpectedly, Spencer’s characters, who were so flat in issue 1, more ideas than personalities, have acquired nuance very nicely. Fillmore Press, formerly Madder Red, is compelling as a recovering sociopath, a remarkable synthesis of a man (re-)learning morality and one with alarming social acumen, especially regarding Det. Acevedo. The two have an easy chemistry and a quick rapport. Their interrogation scene hits all the right notes in just the right rhythm.

After some early, ambitious bumbling, Bedlam seems to have hit its stride. It’s an off-kilter hitch of a stride, to be sure, but its one that has found its footing.

No doubt, Bedlam’s artwork is more heavily stylized than most—though by no means all—comics. Rossmo’s pencil lines are deliberately rough and sometimes chaotic, and Csuka’s coloring is evocatively stark in flashbacks and muted in the “present”. However, these suit the noir-ish tone of the series well. Page design and layouts are not typically complicated, but they’re deceptively adept at storytelling. Eye movement is easy, visual pacing matches the narrative step for step, so that even the little story shifts are reinforced subtle design changes.

Locke & Key, Volume 1

Welcome to Lovecraft
written by Joe Hill
art by Gabriel Rodriguez

What subtlety Locke & Key lacks in title and town name—Lovecraft, from whom its mythological underpinnings and horror tone draw inspiration—it makes up for in excellent storytelling.  Relocated to a family mansion in Massachusetts named Keyhouse, a house as mysterious as it is unlikely, after a deadly home invasion by a vulnerable and unstable teen, the remainder of the Locke family soon find themselves again in danger from a strange creature living on the grounds.  As an opening chapter, Welcome to Lovecraft lays the foundations for a number of promising narrative possibilities:  the plethora of house keys, each presumably with its own door and magical power; the identity of the strange and seductive "echo" in the wellhouse; and the histories of the Locke family, particularly that of dead patriarch Rendell who seems once as a teen to have discovered many of the keys' secrets, and of Keyhouse itself.

Much like his father's, horror novelist and fellow Maine native Stephen King, Hill's New England is a moody, gothic landscape, which like Keyhouse itself is layered with half-forgotten histories of its residents and constructed to preserve their mysteries.  It's an aesthetic which Hill employs very knowingly and not entirely without humor, as when Tyler quips to his uncle Duncan upon their arrival in Massachusetts, "Was it weird to grow up in a house with a name?"  In this way, Hill invests his setting with a mystique independent of his other characters, with a personality all its own.  Perhaps most puzzling, given the apparent dangers lurking in Keyhouse's forgotten places, is Rendell Locke's conviction that his family would be safest there and his faith in the house's own inherent intuition, as Tyler recalls in a flashback at the funeral.

On its own, Welcome to Lovecraft is a rousing good horror thriller with villains both visible and hidden, known and mysterious, and protagonists both flawed and sympathetic.  The Locke family is convincingly faulty, full of character blemishes and insecurities that make them interesting and believable, particularly as survivors of personal trauma.  This resonates most with eldest brother Tyler, whose angst-riddled relationship with his father and whose violent role in defending his family from their attackers continue to burden him.  None, though, is more pleasantly surprising and refreshingly resilient than its most taciturn member, Bode.  The youngest sibling in the Locke clan doesn't get a great deal of dialogue, but thanks to some hilariously believable visual characterization by Rodriguez and his family's perceptible exasperation at his boyish mischievousness, Bode pervades the entire story.  At the edges of the family's troubles in California and kept uninformed about the lingering threat, Bode instead stumbles into the middle of Keyhouse's supernatural intrigue.  His impetuous curiosity and fearlessness make him most receptive to the weirdness, which he explores with unflappable wonder.

The Keys:

Ghost Key, when used with the Ghost Door, temporarily kills its user, who with his body being dead may wander then as a ghost within the grounds of Keyhouse, being flashed instantly to people, places, or objects he thinks about or to people who are thinking about him.

Anywhere Key transforms any door with a keyhole into any other door its user can clearly visualize.  Its use is not limited to Keyhouse.

Gender Key, when used with its corresponding door, transfigures its user into the opposite gender.

Collects Locke & Key: Welcome to Lovecraft #1-6
ISBN:  978-1600201370

The Black Beetle #1

"No Way Out" (1 of 4)
 by Francesco Francavilla

It's not that Francesco Francavilla's new noir hero Black Beetle offers anything particularly innovative to the genre, it's that he evokes it so seamlessly and convincingly.  It lovingly recreates a 1930's aesthetic in both the story it tells and the way it tells it.  As the Zenith radio on the title page suggests, the Beetle's narration could be equally at home in mystery radio as comic book noir, a kind of implied nod to The Shadow radio shows and its ilk.  He employs a number of familiar genre tropes:  warring Italian gangsters, an island prison à la Alcatraz, and a pervasive fascination with all things vaguely eastern, in both Black Beetle's own Egyptian-inspired choice of heroic identity and decorating scheme in his lair as well as his apparent counterpart Labyrinto.

The Black Beetle himself, what would seem an unusual choice for superhero costume and nomenclature if others before him hadn't already seized on the bug, is a delightfully off-beat hero, one whose place as amateur detective and vigilante crime-fighter in Colt City—another New York stand-in, if the map pin is to be an indication—is still unclear.  Not only do the police give chase, but the helpful (if perhaps somewhat suspicious) boy-bystander does not recognize him, mistaking him instead for a spaceman, one of the comics several not-quite-anachronisms more from '50s pop culture than prohibition era that establish the continuity of pulp noir over historical accuracy.  Black Beetle's costume is deceptively simple—black mask with large, red eye shields; a black jumpsuit with minimal padding; and a black cape split with a similarly split storm flap—but it suggests his namesake [nowhere better than the bottom frame of p. 7] while remaining easily functional.

Francavilla's art, like its promotional material, mimics genre movie posters from nearby eras, privileging crisp lines and moody color schemes over realism. The effect is beautiful, and Francavilla uses changes in the color palate to excellent dramatic effect.  The Beetle's shadowy stakeout of blue, purple and muted red explodes into bright yellows and whites along with Spencer's Irish bar, one of a few full page openings that he uses just as well. 

Dial H #1

It should be fitting that my first review is the issue that finally prompted me to enter a comic book store.  This is not to say that I didn't already have a previous if sporadic history reading graphic novels and second-hand comics runs, but it is my first attempt at reading comics in their native medium—a monthly serial—and as such deserves the inaugural post.

"What's the 411?"
written by China Miéville
art by Mateus Santolouco

Quite simply, exceptional.  Nelson Jent—an unhealthy, recently dumped, out-of-work schlub—is about as common a superhero protagonist as Dial H is a comic book premise: a phone booth that temporarily transforms its user into an unpredictable heroic alter-ego.  But it's an idea that's only as good as the superhero personae it dials up, and it's here that Miéville distances himself from the creative pack.  Already, in one issue, he dreams up two—Boy Chimney and Captain Lachrymose—whose absurdity is tempered by their thematic and narrative efficiency.  They may be weird, but they are appropriately weird, as if conjured up by Nelson's own chain-smoking, lugubrious disposition.

As the series' central character, Nelson's self-pity and depressive malaise make him difficult to like, but his quick wit and his desire to make things right with his friend Darren make it possible to see his potential, a man who in the words of Darren "used to be interested in everything," a character through whom we readers can experience Miéville's world.  And it's a world dense with mysteries already:  the  dial itself, how it works, and where it came from; the identity and plans of the shadowy X.N.; the empty woman; strange comas at the local hospital; the seated and caged masked creature; and another hero, maybe, named Manteau.

However intriguing these mysteries make the future of Dial H, it's the details that are so cunningly refined.  Transformation sequences, while at first quite disorienting, are spectacularly fractured and continually nuanced on subsequent readings.  Nelson remains distinct and yet bleeds into his dialed characters, creating a visual cacophony of voice-bubbles and thought-boxes, masterfully navigated by Miéville and his collaborators.  But it's precisely this puzzle of identities that provides the strange but poetic voice to Dial H.  It's also quietly funny.  If Nelson's observation about Matthew McConaughey's disinclination to wearing shirts didn't elicit a chuckle, the homeless beggar's "Need Money 4 Karate Lessons" sign, the thugs' reaction to his transformation pyrotechnics—"Did that guy just explode?"—or the introduction of Captain Lachrymose as "some hipster" should.  Miéville enjoys words, and it's evident.  "Can't scratch my itch with even so elegantly twirled a cudgel," quips Boy Chimney.  "This is beyond miasmic intercession," he further concludes, looking down at Darren's beaten body.  There's a polish to Dial H's language that elevates it above even quite excellent comic fare, less ponderous and more savory.

For most of issue #1, Santolouco's art quietly grounds Miéville's world in a gritty, unglamorous reality, which he executes very well, tucking away background details that invite and reward close examination.  Like his writer, he seizes Nelson's heroic transformations with fervor.  Boy Chimney, in particular, jumps off the page, a lanky collection of joints and Victorian-era garb imposing himself on the layout, overlapping other frames.

Superheroes:  Boy Chimney, Captain Lachrymose

[July 2012]