The Feminine Adventures of the Superfisters
"Pah" we say to those jaded, been-around-the-block hipsters who say that pirates are all played out. You haven't picked up "Polly and the Pirates," by Ted Naifeh, which is the sort of swashbuckling adventure that made you love pirates in the first place. Set in the sort of folksy Elizabethan quasi-Europe metropolis that you might find in a "Final Fantasy," it's the story of a grizzled hoarde of pirates and a young girl whom they are convinced is the key to a pirate queen's treasure. Polly, a proper young lady, is initially aghast to have these ruffians enter her life, but she discovers that there might be more pirate queen than debutante in her than she thought.
Especially after the introduction of the suave Captain Claudio, "PatP" might have been a heady bodice-ripper. But Polly's age -- she's 12 -- keeps things innocent and fun, with Polly relying on her ingenuity and strength of character to gain an upper hand with everyone she encounters. When we first meet her, Polly is meek and a little bored -- her adventures consist of slipping down to the kitchen late at night to get a glass of milk. But soon she finds herself leaping through ships' rigging and arranging mysterious rendezvous to obtain secret maps. "Polly and the Pirates" is ceaseless fun; it's published by Oni Press, whose awesome "Scott Pilgrim" series made our eyes turn star-shaped with dazzlement.
After the jump: Africa, and catwoman leaps around a bit.
Celebrated black author Eric Jerome Dickey surprised a few people by writing a comic book. The "Storm" series is an origin story for, well duh, Storm. You might know her as the regally monotonal Halle Berry, but Storm's had a tough life -- she grew up a homeless petty-thief in African villages and jungles, learning to pick locks and blink menacingly at the weather before being recruited by Captain Picard to join the X-Men. Eric's books chronicle her humble beginnings, interspersed with memories of being raised by her parents in the racist United States, and are laden with Dire Predictions and Grandiose Declarations. Stuff like, "I desire to touch, but inside that desire is fear," and "she has been gifted with the powers of the Gods." It's a bit stilted, this dialogue; but then, when you're pondering racial identity and psionic superpowers, maybe a little grandiosity isn't out of the question.
Prior to picking up Will Pfeifer and Pete Woods' new "Catwoman" series, our only knowledge of the lady was derived from Michelle Pfeiffer (no relation). Here's what you need to know: she's good, not crazy, and she protects the scummy East End of Gotham city. A spooky crime lord goads her into unleashing a dangerous criminial; a crime syndicate forms; Batman frowns sternly; and in the end, Catwoman learns that her brain's been tinkered with by the Justice League. There's some tasty superhero silliness like an evil ventriloquist's dummy and stony Communist villians; and throughout, nobody's completely sure who Catwoman really is -- including Catwoman herself.