The Ambitious Adventures of the Superfisters

Can you believe Nancy Drew has her own comic book series now? (Writted by Stephan Petrucha; illustrated by Sho Murase) More to the point, can you believe she's drawn so buxom? Whenever we showed the comic to anyone, their first reaction was a startled, "ooh, Nancy!" (But fear not; some editions feature a modified, flatter Miss D.) Our little crime-solving girl, who even our grandparents remember from their childhood, is growing up and, oh dear, modernization has not been kind. We were hoping for a fun, silly romp with decoder-rings and dangerous drug smugglers, but what we get are a laptop that can squeal really loud to scare away monkeys, and (of all things) a movie-piracy ring. Um ... riveting. Cartoon Network managed to breathe new life into pre-existing franchises, either by infusing them with camp or nuance; surely the same could be done for Nancy. We are also not totally in love with the art style, which pastes the characters on top of 3D computer-generated backgrounds and props; it all feels a bit detatched and Star-Wars-Prequellish.

We like Rick Remender and Eric Nguyen's "Strange Girl" series, we really do; and that's why we can't resist pointing out those few weak bits that rubbed us the wrong way. The story follows Bethany Black and her pet demon, Bloato, who've carved a dirty, dangerous place for themselves in a world overrun by evil ten years after the Rapture, when God lifted his protection of Earth. Bethany is kept as a slave by the leader of a demon faction, until, um, something happens -- we couldn't figure out what incited the breaking point, exactly, and that's one of the story's shaky points -- and Bethany and Bloato strike out on their own.

As they struggle from a ruined San Francisco to a ruined Marin to a ruined Sacramento to a ruined Arizona and possibly a ruined Rome, Bethany and Bloato (and eventually the dashing Tim, a n'er-do-well with a mean trigger-finger and sensitive emo hair) alternate between bashing skulls and pondering ethernal truths. It's a brave move on the part of author Remender; as Bethany strolls through ruins, she has a massive (by comic standards) monologue in which she wonders what God's plan really is -- do we have free will, does God really care, that sort of thing. It's not the sort of thing that most authors would dare attempt, and though we love how bold a move it is, sadly, we can't quite stick with it. When we were in college, we took a writing class with a professor who had a rubber stamp that said "show, don't tell," and he'd use it to thwack any kid's writing that strayed from short-story to manifesto. The show aspects of "Strange Girl" -- rebellion, double-crossing, old friends -- are dynamite. But the tell aspects nearly put it to sleep.

At some point in our review of "Strange Girl" we wanted to quip, "for a world abandoned by God, there certainly is a lot of deus ex machina," but couldn't find a way to fit it in. But it's too clever not to say, so ... there it is. Oh GOD we're so witty.

Codeflesh, by Joe Casey and Charlie Adlard, takes some impressive risks, too. It's the story of a bail bondsman by day/bounty hunter by night. Living between these two identities takes its toll on Cameron Daltry -- a fairly boiler-plate man-of-few-words -- and his relationship with his stripper-girlfriend falters. In the final pages of the book, Cameron writes an emo confessional note to his girlfriend, and the words of the letter fall into the speech bubbles of the other characters; it's as if a story had been written, then the dialogue removed and replaced by the contents of his letter. It's an unfamiliar, engaging experience, and we were hoping that it would all come together in the end -- an "ah ha" moment where the reader sees what it is that this weird method is getting at. That moment never comes, though, and it leaves us guessing at the author's true intent. Is he saying that nothing else matters ... or is he saying that the character's mind is wandering ... or is he saying that the Camerson's confession should be evident in the interactions of all the other characters? Who knows. Nevertheless, we found the story compelling, in a gradual, thoughtful, beat-em-up sort of way. Comeron's dual-identity turmoil reminds us of a grittier version of Doctor Strange's malaise; in fact, the two books complement each other well.