Review: Conan the Barbarian #2

Myth Metes Myth

  In its first two issues, Conan the Barbarian's Queen of the Black Coast flirts with questions of identity, perception and muscle. Conan is an established character, literally, a known commodity. In the hands of writer Brian Wood and artist Becky Cloonan, however, this iteration of Conan appears more lithe, impressionable and subversive. It's the subversion that this creative team has brought to Conan that makes him more approachable, less legendary and heroic, cocksure, sure, but at the same time, new. Ah, youth. The ostensible queen, Bêlit, on the other hand, materializes in dreams; she is a fiction, a myth, an unknown. Bêlit is notorious among sailors and traders who work the waters of the Western Ocean along the coastline of Kush; her infamy earned as much by her presence as by her absence -- the fear, the mystery, she elicits is a product (a commodity), an agency of her own scarcity.  In both the characters of Bêlit and Conan, Wood, Cloonan and colorist Dave Stewart manage to pour new wine from old vessels.

  Two words bookend the battle-soaked bravado that comprises the bulk of Conan the Barbarian #2: ''Bêlit'' and ''queen.'' The former, a shout, ''Bêlit!'' emanates off-stage (page?) from an unseen caller.  The latter is the final word in issue’s ultimate sentence spoken to Conan by Bêlit herself, ''Make me your queen.'' Each sentence conveys an artful ambiguity and leaves both intent and meaning unmoored. The shout of Bêlit's name beckons, a call to arms that echoes across the waters of the Black Coast. Its intent, however, lies in question: is its tone one of fealty, as a subject to a queen, or is it a statement, a challenge to authority? Both?  Cloonan and Wood want it both ways and are unwilling to fix meaning upon these shifting seas of character development, settling only, for now, on an inclination, and invitation, to subversion.

  The opening page of issue #2 subverts the narrative before it's begun; a timeless moment that suits interpretation in order to undermine explanation. Bêlit toes the deck of her ship with authority and nerve, ''Do you believe you've beaten me barbarian? My lungs still draw air, my heart still beats, and I retain control of my ship. I am utterly unvanquished. You really must do better.'' Blood runs black, both bodies and boards are spiculated with arrows and spears smeared with gore lay idle, idle, perhaps, as that poetic painted ship upon a painted ocean. There is little information that places the hurly-burly lost or won. The enemy has been met, but Bêlit's words lead one to believe that the battle is far from done. Wood's decision to begin the second part of this story in medias res acts as both subversion and a statement about Bêlit as a character. She is, as Wood will later dub Conan: ''battle calm,'' a subversive phrase if ever there was one. This is a woman, a captain that lives beyond her legend. Cloonan and Stewart craft Bêlit as less vampiric than in the first issue, but no less wild-eyed, no less defiant.  She could still stand to spend some time in the sun -- her prison pallor a wash of off-whites and subtle purples.  Her color aside, this is a woman who runs hot, without restraints of any kind and one who commands unbidden. If so, why then, at the very end, does she say, ''Make me your queen.''? 

  Before making her closing statement, Bêlit asks Conan: ''Who are you?'', a question of both identity (what's your name?) and intent (what do you want?). Her question comes as the deck of her ship (the Tigress) drinks the blood of her crew, Conan stands defiant, triumphant, as moments before, Wood writes, Conan ''cleft,''  ''smashed,'' ''severed'' and ''ripped'' each and every one of his attackers. His response to his interlocutor's question is as straightforward as was his attack: ''My name is Conan. I am a Cimmerian.'' What Bêlit hears in Conan's response serves as the impetus to her final line, but the meaning, the intent, lies hidden. The omniscient narrator explains that, ''to one like the pirate queen of Shem Cimmeria is the land of myth and children's stories.'' It would appear that when myth meets myth and identity is born; life borne on black waves.
  Apropos of title (heraldry), of this tale if nothing else, why does Bêlit -- who is already known to Conan (and others) as ''Queen of Black of the Black Coast'' -- need to make such a request or issue such a command to be made a Queen in the first place? Conan wears no arms bears no crown, he states only who he is and where he comes from and neither he nor his words bear title or claim. So why those four words: ''Make me your queen.'' Subversion takes many forms -- ditto shortsightedness -- Bêlit like callow Conan (to this point in the tale) remains more myth than truth. Placing meaning in either character (or their words) is perhaps premature when neither character has fully formed. Authority is unchanged and unchallenged (look at the look on Conan's face in that last panel).  There are no Kings in this story and only one Queen and each character must now participate in a bit of role play before identities can be determined. Conan the Barbarian #2 signals that the dream is over, myth has met myth and been found … perfect.

Author's Note: If it is true that one never forgets one's first time -- precisely which first time, perhaps, should be left to the imagination -- than this series, Conan the Barbarian, will always hold a place in both my heart and mind. I was so impressed by the story Wood, Cloonan and Stewart were setting out to tell in issue #1 that I was compelled to write down my thoughts and then share them with the world -- at least that portion of the world that reads this blog, a dedicated and intelligent lot, no doubt. My goal is to write about each edition in this series (a proposed twenty-five issue arc) with a focus on identity. Who are these characters, Conan and Bêlit, and how they understand each other through the filter of their own identity, the self. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, it is in this case, than I am very much 'borrowing' this idea from Justin Giampaoli's ''Brian WoodProject.'' I can only hope to match Mr. Giampaoli in dedication and artfulness for he has cornered the market on scope and wisdom when it comes to the work of writer Brian Wood. 

Series Review: The Strange Talent of Luther Strode

Brutal. Brilliant. 

  All good things ... I'm starting to think that I picked the perfect time to start reading comics again. Go me! I spent most of last weekend (my family can attest) tap-tap-tapping on the laptop keyboard making with the words and writing about one of my favorite comics of the last few months, The Strange Talent of Luther Strode. For whatever reason -- the return of Brian K. Vaughn and the out-and-out greatness of Saga I'm sure had a lot to do with it -- the final issue of The Strange Talent of Luther Strode (sort of) felt like a stealth release, but, trust me, there is nothing stealth about this series. If you've been 'waitin' for the trade' on this one than you're in for a treat.  Waiting for the trade, however, means that you probably weren't the first one on your block to see artist Tradd Moore draw a guy getting strangled by his own intestines, yeah ... you read that right. Charles and Owen of the Panel Culture podcast, made a really great point about how the bruatality and the violence in this series may turn some people off, but there's more 'there' there than most comics and that's something worth supporting. The good people at Comics Bulletin, Danny Djeljosevic, said it would be O.K. for me to write an series review and I went a little overboard, except, I didn't, I really like this story.  I'm not going to go all 'fanboy' and say that tSToLS is not without its criticisms, but its one for the ages, a comic that people will remember and talk about for years to come. It's going to read well as a tpb, no doubt, however, it's a 'rare' species in comic books nowadays because each issue is a complete chapter. Sure its got the requiesite cliffhangers -- a good comic will, and should -- but each issue fits within the framework of the series and the storytelling never feels flabby, if anything, it's ... muscular. Thanks again to Danny and Jason Sacks over at Comics Bulletin.  The above image is the 'official' cover for the Issue #6.  Tradd Moore also did an alternative cover (right) that's available at Larry's Comics http://larryscomics.net/shop.html 
If anybody wants the spot me the $20, I'm good for it.  Here's the beginning of my review:
   

    The Strange Talent of Luther Strode goes for the jugular and gives no quarter; a bloody bildungsroman, a magnum opus of guts, gore and ultra-violence hanging within the frame of morality. Writer Jason Jordan, artist Tradd Moore and colorist Felipe Sobreiro craft a skintight narrative that lures the reader with lurid images of eyeballs rocketing from sockets and body’s broken asunder limb from limb; below the meat, however, beats the heart of a mannered meditation on good versus evil. Jordan tells his story the old-fashioned way (read: ancient) with an eye on the Aristotelian ideal of dramatic structure: beginning, middle and end ...

Read the rest at Comics Bulletin: http://www.comicsbulletin.com/main/reviews/miniseries-review-strange-talent-luther-strode

Interview: Too Dangerous for a Girl!

The Scottish Play 

  Martin Gray is Too Dangerous for a Girl!; more on that score in a moment. As the saying goes, 'blogs are like bums, everyone's got one' or something like that. Gray is one cheeky blogger to say the least, not to mention prolific -- the man can knock out half-a-dozen reviews on a Wednesday before most of us have had our cup of morning coffee; it helps that he lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, but that's beside the point. A lifelong journalist, Gray worked for a time editing UK DC reprint titles and all-ages comics. I found Too Dangerous for a Girl! while looking for a kindred soul to share my 'insights' about the latest adventures of Wonder Woman in the New 52. Lucky for me, Gray was eager to have a chat. My opinions about the hyperbole of comic book podcasts (see the interview with Panel Culture) cross over, if you will, with comic book bloggers. Now, I'm in no way immune to a bit of purple prose myself (sometimes the medium is the message), however, it's always refreshing to read a review that has a light touch amongst  the heavy-hand opinion of the comic book blogosphere. Gray stands as a bit of a 'comic book colossus' straddling the line between fervor and fun; his writing is always as self-deprecating as it is authentic. Martin Gray loves comic books and it shows, but he’s not so zealous as to be willing to overlook something like calling out DC for overpromising and under-delivering (so far) when it comes to certain aspects of the New 52. When I read Too Dangerous for a Girl!, I always come away thinking about how much passion Gray has for his subject and often I'm not reading the book that Gray reviews; when a writer (especially a critic) makes a reader care, that, dear reader, is a rare and a very dangerous gift … good for a boy or a girl.          

Sophisticated Fun: What’s the story behind the name of your blog, Too Dangerous for a Girl?

Too Dangerous: I'm a massive Legion of Super-Heroes fan, from being a little boy -- I was lucky enough to 'inherit' thousands of Silver Age DC comics from a neighbour, including Adventure Comics from the start of the team's residency there. One of the moments that struck me was this scene from 'The Legion's Suicide Squad', Adventure Comics #319, 1964. I was mightily impressed by the way in which Saturn Girl wasn't having any of Brainiac 5's nonsense. And the phrase stuck with me. You have to call a blog something!

SF: How did you start blogging and what made you decide to write about comic books?

TD: I'm a lifelong comics fan, and was always an occasional letter writer. The general demise of letter columns a few years ago meant there were fewer places to mouth off, so I thought I'd try this newfangled blogging lark. The vague idea was that I'd learn to structure my views better as I went along, but as it turns out, I'm usually happier with 'off the top of my head' pieces than super-structured ones ... I reckon you can tell when I'm trying too hard.

SF: What did you do as an editor of UK DC reprint titles and children’s comics?

TD: I had a wonderful time at London Editions Magazines/Egmont/Fleetway for a few years in the Nineties, selecting material for such titles as Batman and Superman. But that doesn't fill a working week, so there was also my favourite part of the job - putting together letter columns. I loved it when a dialogue got going with readers, and that's one of the things I like about blogging; the swapping of opinions. I also wrote feature pages, some humorous, some not. And away from the reprint titles, I was in charge of originating material for such licensed books as My Little Pony, Polly Pocket and Sooty. I occasionally wrote a strip, and even got to colour the ponies one time. As you can imagine, life since then has seemed a disappointment by comparison. Incidentally, I got my interview for that job because the line editor, the wonderful Brian M. Clarke, remembered my name from letter columns.

SF: For a provincial like myself, what’s it like collecting comics in the UK?

TD: Collecting comics in Edinburgh isn't as social a hobby as it seems to be in the U.S. Listening to podcasts such as iFanboy, it seems that U.S. comic shops are full of people hanging out. In the UK - with a few exceptions - it's more a case of 'how soon can I get out?' There's one chap I see regularly at the shop, and we chat, and a pal at work follows some titles, but other than that, I'm just so alone ... It's another reason to blog, hang out at message boards and Tweet.

  One great thing is that the books are on sale at 10AM [5AM(!) EST] on Wednesdays at Forbidden Planet Edinburgh (nice staff, but no discounts), hours before most of the US wakes up. This means I can usually get a blog post up on my lunch hour, ahead of the States. It sounds trivial, but [being first] with a review of a high-interest book such as Wonder Woman, Avengers: The Children's Crusade or Superman during the 'Grounded' debacle can notch up an awful lot of views in an afternoon ... and they can't all be spambots!
  The only writers of American comics who have made an impression on the public are Alan Moore and Mark Millar, the latter being almost a celebrity in Scotland. Grant Morrison is also known to some people, but that's about it. And U.S. titles pale in the public consciousness next to the Scotland-based titles we all grew up with, such as the Beano and Dandy. And UK comic fans are so far from the mainstream, it's untrue - everyone laughs at us!

SF: Do you buy your comics digitally and do you foresee a time when digital comics will replace the local comic book shop?

TD: I buy some digitally, and would like to buy more. I've just got to shake that Wednesday habit so I can take advantage of the cheaper prices. Then again, my blog's mainly current reviews, so I can't be waiting a month to write about books.

  I can see the better shops remaining open, the ones that offer something extra -- a great atmosphere, events and discounts. But once digital prices come down, the rest could be in big trouble. 

SF: You’ve been blogging about comics since 2007. What changes have you seen in the critical conversation regarding comic books and comic book culture?

TD: The explosion of blogs has helped many people find their voice. It's never boring. Whether it's new comics. Bronze Age titles, Forties ephemera or whatever, someone's blogging about it, and generally the sites are getting better as people learn what works for them. One day I might fancy reading a mainly funny site such as 'Siskoid'sBlog of Geekery,' the next it'll be Colin Smith's incredibly well-thought-out essays at 'Too Busy Thinking About My Comics,' a character-specific blog such as 'Supergirl Comic Box Commentary,' Jacque Nodell's romance site 'SequentialCrush' or another general review site such as 'Comic Per Day Reviews.' A community has arisen as bloggers latch on to their fellows, swapping experiences and recommendations. I'm delighted to be in such gracious company 

SF: Why do you devote the majority of your writing to reviewing DC titles?

TD:  I admit, it's mainly DC titles these days. The split between DC and Marvel titles used to be more even, but since Marvel became - with rare exceptions - one long 'event' I've lost interest in many titles. Individual creative team visions are constantly sacrificed to the latest 400-part crossover that will change everything, forever, until next month. But I'm reading Daredevil, Avengers Academy, Amazing Spider-Man, Journey Into Mystery and several X-titles. I'd love to be reading more, but at $3.99 for 20 pages [and] a five-minute read in many cases, I'm not wasting my cash. With DC it's easier to latch onto individual titles, and not wind up saying the same thing in every case. As for non-DC and Marvel books, I prefer to read them in trade collections months after their single issue appearances, putting them outside my self-imposed remit.

SF: How do you approach reviewing comics? Do you write for an audience or for yourself?

TD:  Having been a journalist all my working life, I always assume there's an audience, it's second nature. If I didn't believe someone would be reading I'd never make it to the keyboard. I write for myself, though, in the sense that I find blogging a fun exercise. I love playing with words. And If I get the initial communication pretty much 'right', I'm going to get responses, and that's highly rewarding.

SF: How do you approach writing about the art of a comic book?

TD:  There's no tried and tested technique. I simply write down the responses I feel, concentrate on how the comic affects me. My degree is in Film and English Studies and that was basically three years of overthinking to the extent that you can no longer see the entertainment - killing the frog by dissection. I'm no artist, and I'm not a brilliant writer, but I've been devouring comics for decades, I've read books on critical theory, thousands of fanzine articles ... I figure my opinion is as worthwhile as anybody's; and if, by blogging, I can elicit opinions from other readers, so much the better. It's not all gut reaction, though - as well as opinion there's a need for context and some recapping.

SF: Being a DC man, what were your thoughts when the New 52 debuted last September?

TD: Cautious optimism - having lived through Crisis on Infinite Earths, I've seen that a good\ 'kick-up' of the universe can bring brilliant results.

SF: Seven months in, how are you feeling about the New 52?

TD: Less happy - this is a decidedly darker, more violent universe, one that seems aimed at teenage lads who want a bit of sex and violence. The integration of the Wildstorm Universe backstory hasn't thrilled me. And DC's early promises that stories wouldn't be unnaturally extended have proven pish (there's a Scottish word for you!) – [seven issues in] we're still in the opening arcs of many books, There are plenty of titles I think are great, but I can't think of any of those that couldn't have been done pre-Flashpoint. On the other hand, I can think of an awful lot of wonderful stories, concepts and characters that have been lost.

SF: Is there a (favorite?) character that you would like to see get their own DC or Marvel title?

TD: I'd love to see Zatanna return to a monthly solo title, that was a spiffy comic. May I have Kurt Busiek and Tom Grummett's Power Company too? And a proper Defenders title, featuring Valkyrie, Hellcat and Nighthawk?

SF: Do you think the impact that the New 52 had on the comic book industry will still resonate a year from now?  How about in five years?

TD: A year or two, probably. Five years? We'll be doing it all over again.

SF: What’s the state of superhero comics? Do ‘superhero’ stories have more/less relevance today? Is there anything left for superhero comics to say?

TD: Superhero comic sales seem a little healthier than they were a year or two back. As for the actual genre, original ideas are thin on the ground but there are some interesting tunes being played on old instruments. As for 'relevance', I'm happy for that idea to take a backseat; working in newspapers, I get the real world all day long. After hours I want escapism via fascinating stories featuring colourful characters with the odd punch thrown in.

 

 

For more Martin Gray, visit Too Dangerous for a Girl! or follow him on Twitter @MartGray.  This interview was conducted over email.

Banner courtesy of Gorilla Daze

Promulgator

  A week ago this scrolled into my Twitter feed: 'Comics Bulletin details its new direction for covering comics, inspired by Image Comics' business model.' I followed the link to an essay by Jason Sacks, publisher and owner of Comics Bulletin. Sacks's piece was personal and passionate. I dug it. Sacks -- stoked about the sheer energy resonating out of Image Comics at the moment -- wrote:

 … the [Image] Expo radicalized me a little. It made me want to devote even more attention to the creator-owned area of our hobby. Comics Bulletin will continue to cover Marvel and DC Comics, but we're also going to cover Image Comics even more than we already do. We're going to do more work with our friends at Archaia, BOOM, Fantagraphics and other publishers to explore their wonderful line of creator-owned comics and graphic novels … We don't believe in being beholden to the large comics publishers or the need to keep a section of our readership happy. We trust ourselves to think through the comics and issues we discuss, to come up with smart, interesting views on the industries that we cover which are different from what you might find elsewhere on the web. Like Image Comics, we're fiercely independent. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

  Sacks was amped, however, the verve and brio with which he wrote contains something more … purpose, direction and better (and more dangerous, perhaps), philosophy.  His 'radical' essay was indeed a call to arms -- a way to 'rally the base' as pundits and politicians parrot in the news -- the ultimate 'so what?' As a reader, a writer and editor (and newly fledged blogger), I rely on passion (who doesn't?) especially when it's focused. For me, Sophisticated Fun is a tool (where there's a whip there's a way) to help me write, to make me write -- that's passion, however, not direction, nearly, but not quite, in line with Sacksian doctrine. For me, Sacks was writing about 'more' and 'further,' while I was trolling for retweets and responses. If a review posts to a blog and only a few people read it -- aside from friends and well-wishers -- does it make a sound? What’s the impact? Is this what blogging is all about: reading, writing and repurposing ad infinitum? Yes and no. Let’s not get too carried away Silva. So, I emailed Sacks, told him I liked what he wrote, told him what I had been doing and asked if he would be interested in having me write for Comics Bulletin.

  If, dear reader, you’ve swum this far through 'Lake Me' indulge your humble narrator another sentence or three.  You can read my reviews of 'Swamp Thing #7' and 'Animal Man #7' (not quite 'creator-owned content,' but baby steps) on Comics Bulletin and, no, it’s not a 'paying gig, ' yet. I'll still be posting plenty to 'Interested in Sophisticated Fun,' so, no worries. So go. Make the myths … and then write, tweet, email … repeat.

Here’s my review of Swamp Thing #7: http://www.comicsbulletin.com/main/reviews/swamp-thing-7

And Animal Man #7: http://www.comicsbulletin.com/main/reviews/animal-man-7

Read Jason Sacks essay here: http://www.comicsbulletin.com/main/columns/make-your-own-freedom 

Special Thanks to my editor (!!!) Danny Djeljosevic for forwards, rapid responses and patience

Review: Hell Yeah #1



Potential Energy

  Hell Yeah #1 opens with a right cross to the face, sort of.  Page one, panel one depicts said punch to said head, but it’s what’s opposite to that 'in your face' image that deserves notice as well; a white rectangle -- a blank -- with 'Previously ...' set atop it, a ballsy beginning and wholly redundant. As hasty as it is to say (about any first issue) Hell Yeah #1 sugars off to this open space -- all potential, kinetic cross or not.

  The staging of the opening act is cinematic with two text panels (white letters set into a black background) that call back (previously?) to that blank space on the inside cover.  The first states: 'Portland, Oregon Right Now,' the other (much larger) reads: 'Image Comics Presents.'  Granted a title card that establishes a story’s setting is a necessary evil, so, why give the book’s publisher the extra shout out? Why the added tell in lieu of a show? This opening chapter ends in a two-page splash as the bludgeoner at the beginning becomes the bludgeoned. 'Ka-Pow, Asshole' says the spikey haired victor, the comic’s title burns in the background. It would be a hell of an opening for an action flick, kind of like a comic book.
  Writer Joe Keatinge sells this story with attitude, attitude attitude. The character design for the protagonist, Ben Day, cops John Lydon’s Public image Limited look complete with short-sleeved collared shirt, an action figure with punk appeal. Hell Yeah reads big, artist Andre Szymanowicz gets to work on expansive canvases --  of the comics thirty-two pages only one is divided into seven panels and most pages average only three or four panels. It may seem like a small thing, but this kind of open space allows Szymanowicz to draw larger-than-life characters, 'super' heroes, in other words. None of the characters in this story are squeezed into the panels; instead, they roam free, like deities, queens of the scene and cocks of the walk.
  Keatinge breathes new life into the concept of a deus ex machina asking: what’s the problem in a world without problems?  Imagine.  As told in a black-and-white sequence, supermen (and women) came from out of nowhere and 'our world was forever changed … They promised a better tomorrow.  They delivered.' To drive the point home, Keatinge and company 'steal from one of the masters' to create their own spark of life.  This story will (pun intended) live or die on how deep this particular rabbit’s hole goes. 'The only limit is our imagination.' says the un-named superman savior; the same goes for the creators of Hell Yeah.
  Great art inspires great art. The creative team behind Image Comics Hell Yeah is inspired, yet their work does not inspire … yet. One could speculate that when Keatinge and Szymanowicz set out to midwife Hell Yeah into being, they knew what they wanted to create, what muses to invoke and where to apply the stimulus, but it remains to be seen if either reckoned their creation could stand on its own. In Hell Yeah the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Review: Spaceman #4

Glossed in Space

  Brian Azzarello grounds Spaceman in language and the slipperiness of speech.  The alien argot Azzarello imagines occurs out loud; and each one of Eduardo Risso’s panels balloon with words, drunk on overlapping dialogue boxes; narrators in no need of narration.  In other words, Spaceman is one wordy ‘mo-foco,’ as the kids say.
  Half the fun of Spaceman is learning to speak the language and getting caught in the sticky web of words that Azzarello weaves into his low-down dirty story of kidnapping, celebrity culture, and genetically engineered workaday spacemen.  This tale, however, is not a mere gloss on glossolalia nor is it interested in inventing language for the sake of invention or, for that matter, for the sake of language.  What Azzarello and Risso create is a dialogue of binaries: public and private, perception and reality, words and pictures, haves and have-nots.  Amidst these opposites exists the spaceman, Orson, a cast-off, caught between worlds, floating through space.
  Spaceman #4 is an interstitial episode, that’s not to say that nothing happens, although not much does: plans are made, investigations go on, and new schemes are schemed.  This is a series that rewards being read backwards as well as forwards; words and phrases easily missed in previous issues the first time through yield treasure on a second or third pass[1].
  For example, the word ‘gold’ appears in two different scenes in this issue, each time the word means something different; ‘gold’ has a different value depending on means and on information.  ‘Gold.  Holee Fuck. Gold,’ says a headset-wearing someone lording over a bank of monitors.  In this instance ‘gold’ is an expression referring to prized moment.  The cameras of ‘The Ark’ (a reality TV show or ‘cast’) catch the parents of the kidnapped girl, Tara, reacting to being told that they are suspects in the police investigation of the crime.  The father, Marc, pleads with his wife, April, saying: ‘that playing Tara’s kidnapping out in public – it’s nobody’s business but ours.’  A private matter played out in public becomes a ‘golden moment’ broadcast in the binary code of ones and zeroes.  In the world of Spaceman, words and information are coin of the realm, but only if one has means.
  The other time the word ‘gold’ is used is when the four spacemen are staring at a pile of it that they have liberated from the Martian surface.  This kind of gold, real gold, is worth less than information, it has no value because as Orson says to his fellow spacemen, ‘We here – so’s it.  Gold be fuckin dust to us.’  What’s the value of ‘gold’ if there’s no profit to be made?[2]  No means means no.  This is only one example of dozens throughout the series (hell, in the course of this issue) when the elusiveness of meaning is made plain.
  Orson is a scavenger, although ‘salvager,’ is probably a better description of our ‘humble narrator;’ a creature of his environment.  It’s no accident that Orson ‘saves’ Tara or that his speech is a stew of infectious idioms.  Orson like language adapts.  As the two head towards their next dead end, Tara tells Orson, ‘I think this is cool’ and then corrects herself, ‘I mean I brain – I brain this is cool …’  In the final analysis Orson and Tara’s survival depends on if they can adapt or is it all talk.  You brain me?    

---

[1] It irks me to write this, but Spaceman is going to read absolutely fabulously in a collected format.  Which makes one wonder if that was not Azzarello and Risso’s intention all along?

[2] I believe there is another reference to ‘gold’ in issue #1 or #2 (?) as well.  Did I mention this series would work well in a collected edition?