Comically speaking

14 Feb

The great thing about being a dad is that you get to be a kid all over again.

My son wanted to get a comic book a few weeks ago, so obviously I went with him to a shop and got him a few books. One of Wall-E, a few older Star Wars titles and a really old Transformers book (circa 1986).

Of course, I was begged every night for the past week or so to sit and read them to him after I got home from work, which I happily obliged. Quality time together, learning to read, learning to appreciate art, etc.

But obviously, it doesn’t end there. Not even close. In fact, it’s the (second) beginning. I’m collecting books all over again.

Yep, I got the bug too (again), and it didn’t take long wandering around the shop to grab a fist-full of titles and dive head-long back into the wonderful world of comics.

Hey, I’m broke anyway most of the time … may as well have some books to show for it. (You other comic enthusiasts know what I mean.)

I picked up the usuals to start back in: HellBoy, Spawn, various Batman series, Iron Man and Deadpool. I was particularly excited about one double-sized issue which will go un-named from the above list.

This issue looked great from the cover, sitting inside it’s gleaming board and bag. I finally get around to opening it and flipping a few pages tonight, and was slapped in the face by the art. Granted, most of it was good (as I was expecting). But, I was stunned by the discrepancies.

Now, I understand books will often have a few artists working the pencils, inks and colors to finish the title in a timely fashion. But this was overboard. For example, in a two-page spread there was one page obviously drawn by one person and the other page very obviously drawn by someone else. And, their styles were the exact opposite. One was light-handed and detailed, the other very thick-lined and color-blotchy. Night and day.

It really doesn’t do anything to help the old “suspension of disbelief.”

It sucks, to be blunt.

As I flipped through the book (not reading it, just skimming the art), it was that way throughout with even more art styles. The masthead revealed to me there were seven artists, not including the one that did the cover. Seven.

Now tell me, how the $%#! do you expect any kind of consistency or even congruency with that number of cooks in the kitchen. I mean, DAMN.

So I really have no desire to follow Iron Man anymore (oops — let the cat outta the bag, there). Especially when it was followed by that pitiful excuse of storytelling called 500.1.

Back to DC, Image and Dark Horse I go. At least Marvel keeps me by a thread with Deadpool (until they figure a way to muck that one up, too).

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