I've been in the mood for comic books recently. Not so much the superhero stuff (although The Dark Knight Returns is one of the fine comics I have in mind), but the ones that feel more like they're literature. With pictures.

I got hooked on literary comics with The Sandman, Neil Gaiman's epic series about the anthropomorphic, post-deific manifestation of the idea of dream. The series is lavishly illustrated, but just as (perhaps more?) importantly, it's lavishly written. Gaiman can plot and characterize with the best of them, but he also loads down every page with subtle and not-so-subtle references and allusions to pretty much the entire history of mythology. Reading these books was a sensory experience unlike any other, and I knew I wanted more.

Unfortunately, I've only sporadically indulged in this pleasure. You can get books form libraries; you can get movies and anime from rental stores; but there's no good source for a comic book addiction save plunking down the dough. (And I usually prefer to plunk down the dough on a new game.) Other than DKR, the only other "literary" comic I've obtained was The Watchmen, which is a fabulous meditation on the whole idea of superheroes.

Events conspired last month to get me back into the comic reading frame of mind. I'd heard good things about Transmetropolitan, a cranky series about journalism, politics, truth, the future, and grumpy bastards. Who could say no? It's a sensory overload -- Max Headroom gets se-se-se-seriously funky. Slade was kind enough to obtain the series for me for Christmas, and I devoured them. (Sadly, I discovered that even though the series has run to conclusion, there are still probably three or more trade paperback collections remaining to be issued, so I'm currently awaiting them with impatience).

Happily, I was not left unsatisfied. Skye recently obtained the full run of The Invisibles, which is perhaps even more disorienting. Forget the simplicity of a future so caught up in information implosion that nobody even knos what year it is; The Invisibles doesn't even believe in a coherent timeline. If I said it was in the spirit of The Illuminatus! Trilogy, it would frankly be unfair to The Invisibles, since it doesn't suffer from RAW's tendency to actually believe his own press. It's a messed up romp that ranges from Cthulhu to the Mental Singularity, and takes technology, magic, and style down with it. Check it out -- but don't blame me if you read it all in one sitting and find your brain smoking or perhaps missing.

(And speaking of computer games, I picked up Splinter Cell for the XBox, and it's freaking awesome. More later.)  10:13:53 PM  (comments [])