C.M. Selbrede's Blog, page 22

Comic Book Reviews (August 30, 2017)

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New Comic Book Day has come and gone, which means I have some comics to review. Here goes- Beware of Spoilers.

Secret Empire #10
(Nick Spencer & Steve McNiven)

[image error]For better or for worse, Secret Empire is finally over. If you came into this event hating it, this issue won’t change your mind. But if you found redeeming qualities throughout it, you might just be satisfied by this finale.

First things first- visually, this is an extremely pleasing issue. McNiven’s clear, stark visuals are perfect for this event, and it’s a shame he only gave us two issues because Sorrentino’s muddy art certainly weakened some of the earlier issues and this series needed all the help it could get. McNiven juggles smaller character moments with bombastic, giant action sequences and homages which do a lot to bring heart back to this book. Be aware that he is supported by a pretty substantial team of B-artists beyond the glorious dream sequences by Rod Reis, but I didn’t find it too distracting.

As for the plot, it’s pleasing enough but can’t help but fall flat. While the ending is satisfying, it is predictable and basically what everyone said would happen from the start. Aside from the Winter Soldier’s pleasantly brilliant plan, things happen almost robotically according to genre tropes, and the warm fuzziness of the ending can’t wipe away the mischaracterization and insensitivity which had marred the event as a whole.

Secret Empire #10 did its job well enough, but was far from perfect. However, when compared to some of Marvel’s other events, I can’t help but feel it stuck the landing.

Rating: 6.5/10
Doctor Who: The Lost Dimension Alpha #1
(George Mann, Cavan Scott, & Rachael Stott)

[image error]I boarded several of the Doctor Who comics when they debuted a few years ago but quickly exited shortly thereafter. As much as I love Doctor Who, I felt the actor’s eclectic personalities and well-loved quirks didn’t translate well enough to comics to justify a $3.99 pricetag, but I’ve nevertheless returned once or twice for characters or concepts I find interesting. And so I reentered the TARDIS to see the latest multi-Doctor event, hoping that my misgivings would be proven wrong by the Ninth/Twelfth Doctor meeting I was desperate to see.

Firstly, jumpy as the script was (and as jumpy as you would expect it to be, with four protagonists in very different settings) I enjoyed this issue a lot more than I expected to. There was a good heart to it, a story involving Twelve, Bill, and Nardole with ties to a narrative involving (Spoilers!) the Doctor’s Daughter and Captain Jack Harkness. Though Mann and Scott mischaracterize Twelve as a bit more physical than Capaldi portrays him, his first meeting with Jenny is still enjoyable and helps make the ensuing mystery more fascinating, Bill’s rashness aside.

Stott gives an enjoyable, if stiff, showing this time around, fixing some of the globbiness (for lack of a better word) I’ve observed in the past and gelling well with some of the guest artists which roll through. While Stott isn’t a household name, I feel she should be- there’s a great depth to her characters I think the Big Two could use.

All in all, the Lost Dimensions Alpha is a fantastic first go which might actually tempt me to pick up the rest of the event.

Rating: 8/10
Uncanny Avengers #26
(Jim Zub & Sean Izaakse)

[image error]It’s always a relief when a comic I love returns to its regularly scheduled programming post-event, especially when it packs such great character moments. I loved Uncanny Avengers under Remender, and Duggan gradually wore me over, and Zub looks to be the best of the bunch- blending both takes on the team to form a more cohesive vision of Avengers/X-Men/Inhumans unity.

Uncanny Avengers has always functioned best as a character study, and this issue has a lot of great character moments. That’s not to say there isn’t action- there is, though it is a tad dull- but the characters, from the Wasp to the Human Torch to Rogue, really make the book pop.

Uncanny Avengers has always been great, and it’s only getting better with its new creative team.

Rating: 9/10
X-Men: Blue #10
(Cullen Bunn & Giovanni Valetta)

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Since the time displaced X-Men have arrived in Marvel continuity, I have had a love-hate relationship with them. Though an intriguing idea in concept was benefited by a strong start, All-New X-Men Volume One quickly devolved into an out-of-character crossover Hell, while Volume Two just sort of meandered around without many forward strides. Unfortunately, while X-Men: Blue’s first few issues showed signs of improvement, I’m finding myself increasingly pessimistic about the series’ prospects.

Most of the characters seem to be stuck in a holding pattern- Magneto plotting, Jean angsting about her future and trying to be different, Bobby missing Romeo, and Hank meddling with dark forces. Jimmy is literally without memories or personality, Angel is just sort of flying there, and Scott, so well-served in Champions and his deceased solo series, can’t help but feel flat in comparison to what came before. The great team dynamic and fancy new digs can’t do much to elevate this, even with the welcome additions of X-Factor teammates Danger and Polaris.

Bunn has a lot of explaining to do, and some hurdles to overcome, but he has the makings of a great book right here. I genuinely hope he pulls things through.

Rating: 6/10
Justice League of America #13
(Steve Orlando & Ivan Reis)

Ivan Reis is back to finally explore the mystery of Ray Palmer, which means two[image error] of JLA’s biggest selling points have made their triumphant return. If anything, though, these returns really underscore just how little this book has lived up to its potential.

Reis’ art is first and foremost, as beautiful and mythical as ever.  Expertly, Reis balances the character moments with the shocking and whimsical imagery of the Microverse astonishingly well. This is, admittedly, a selling point- if a bittersweet one, since we know this is Reis’ second and final arc on the book.

The story, meanwhile, is the same as it’s ever been- good ideas not quite clicking, as great characterizations don’t quite gel into a cohesive team. Maybe this team will improve once Batman leaves, but I can’t quite help but feel like while we know the characters as individuals only a few hold relationships to each other.

Anyway, despite my problems with the series as a whole this is a pretty solid issue. Even if it is the last good one for a while, it’s worth skimming if you care about any of these characters or concepts.

Rating: 7/10

Poem: Sorry

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Listen–

I’m sorry for how I ramble on

for how eye contact doesn’t always click

for how I didn’t speak up because I was scared

and for how I spoke up and made things awkward

 

I’m sorry for the length of my sentences

and the depth of my inferences

because I read into things so much

and not everybody is a novel.

 

But here’s the thing.

I will never apologize for challenging you by being different.

I will never apologize for inconveniencing you by being complicated.

And I will never apologize for having more dimensions than you can comprehend.

 

I don’t owe you an explanation for who I am.

Short Story: Hodgey

Written September 2015. This story is not considered canonical within The Valley Chronicles trilogy, but is an excellent example of Hodgey’s voice.

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People often speak of family as a thing you are born into- something marked by blood, immutable, eternal. I would like to offer an alternative conclusion, one which I have arrived at after years spent laboring in dumpsters and crowded squares— family, like most things in life, is something we make. There is a sweetness and pride attained through the act of building such a unit, either on the grounds of blood relation or something else entirely. This experience is akin to the feeling of, say, realizing that the evil mailman has fled back to his hellpit after a successful stratagem has been employed by oneself.

I built my family through simplistic means— the dumbest feline would have been able to execute my feeble plot. After years of living homeless on the streets, I stumbled upon her—  the scent of something vaguely like fresh grass on her ankles, and a brave angle to her far away face. Violet.  I had found someone who I desired to be my friend, and I had no intention of losing her. This, I swore on my precious tail, currently flicking back and forth as if charged with lightning. I had not much to work with so I was forced to try something rather crude. As the saying goes, “No human can resist the whimper-and-follow.”

Stepping into the street, I broke into a steady trot, ignoring the surprised sounds the humans made around me, and focusing on Violet’s brown boots. Sidestepping countless obstacles and appealing- looking treats, I followed her and her parental unit with fierce determination. It was a few blocks before she noticed me- concern flickering on her face, likely due to my disgusting appearance, and also the typical light I saw that all dogs incited in her species. She murmured a few scattered words to her mother, who glanced back at me also.  They stopped, and I caught up to them, and began fiercely licking the boots of who I hoped would be my new friend. I prepared myself for the worst— this was normally when the selected individuals tended to kick me away. But Violet had always shown promise beyond the average contestant in the “Who Deserves Hodgey” show, she merely carefully removed me and spoke urgently with her mother.

I was thrilled beyond belief when she picked me up, and brought me with her until they reached the small car. I sat on Violet’s lap in the passenger seat, and delighted at the feeling of comfort and warmth which humans doubtlessly made possible through the mass-selling of souls. I was certainly far less thrilled when they pulled up at a strange building called “animal shelter”, and brought me in there instead, signing a few papers and saying goodbye with not a backwards glance. I was quite hurt, frankly— perhaps my newfound habit of crying myself to sleep every night would suggest I was downright shattered. But the shelter was nice, for such an impersonal place- the meals were regular and I suppose the volunteers were nice enough.

But of course, it was a relief when one day, I was pulled out of the shelter by one of the aides (Darla, I believe) and brought to a counter where I saw, to my utter shock, Violet handing in money to the shelter, which she had apparently raised through various odd jobs and also by tutoring some elementary school kids.  It was the happiest day of my life when she and her mother brought me into their small suburban home, and whispered into my ear “Welcome home.”

Poem: What Are You Wearing Today?

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Thanks for asking, great question.

This is a 6’2″ mixed-race suit designed by God back in 1999… embellished with some scars and wear and tear for personality. It’s growing on me.

The eyes are brown but a little heavy, weighed down by the years. I haven’t had to replace them them yet, which is something I guess.

Anyway, it’s an okay piece, all I could find, really.  It’s just the surface layer. Beneath it I’m wearing some more personal things, like the chains of regret I’ve forged over the years. They’re a little heavy, but the cold bothers me much more. They’re colder than ice.

The chains go well with a few memories I keep tucked underneath my clavicle, close to my heart. They flicker and they fade but they can warm me, sometimes. They keep me from freezing in this thin outfit.

I didn’t choose any of this. But if I have to wear it, I guess I’ll wear it with pride.

 

 

Short Story: Team

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Written February 2016

It was a murmur. Quiet, fleeting, but there. Hunter looked over, surprised.

“You say something?” He asked, looking away from his game of Halo towards his unlikely friend.

Parker’s face turned red. When the popular football player had first begun slumming it with a guy of his social class due to the pressing of their mutual friend, Cadmus, Parker had absolutely hated Hunter. But, after a few months of hanging out, he’d loosened up, and Hunter had discovered that Parker wasn’t really that bad. He was an idiotic, self-destructive jerk, but he was still a guy.

A few days ago, a friend of Parker’s had made fun of Hunter in the cafeteria, and Parker had tackled him. Hunter had watched, surprised, as Parker lamely explained to the teacher and the boy that he had tripped over his shoelace.

He had been wearing flip flops.

And so now they were sitting there, in the computer lab, waiting for Cadmus or Eliza or Nala to report back from the disappearances they were investigating. Hunter was sure that whatever it was, Cad could handle it— ever since his otherworldly powers had developed, he’d basically become a superhero, which was weird to think about but also pretty awesome. That didn’t make waiting around in this makeshift “mission control” any less boring, however.

“It was nothing,” Parker chewed his lip, staring down at his sneakers like they were the most interesting thing in the world. They were red and puffy, and Hunter figured they were probably limited edition. Parker seemed like the kind of guy to be interested in fancy sneakers.

“It was something,” Hunter shrugged. “I’m as bored as you are waiting for our friend to finish cleaning up crime. You can’t just start the first conversation in thirty minutes and end it abruptly. It’s not cool.”

“You all done with facial recognition and that crap?” Parker tried to change the subject.

“Yeah, the suspects went to Nala’s phone a while ago,” Hunter told him. “They won’t need anything from me for a bit.”

“Nice,” Parker nodded without enthusiasm.

“You’re even more out of it than usual,” Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You trying pot again? We’ve been over this.”

“No,” Parker glared at him. “I haven’t so much as touched a drop of alcohol since that assassin attacked our party.”

“Not a sentence I ever thought would be normal,” Hunter laughed, and Parker let out a short chuckle.

“Okay, you really wanna know?” the athlete smiled, looking embarrassed.

“Yeah, absolutely,”  Hunter nodded.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Dude, if I made fun of you you’d probably tie me to the top of a flagpole.”

“True,” Parker acknowledged. “It’s just… you know how you were accepted to Caltech?”

“Yeah, I’m living the dream,” Hunter allowed himself a moment of pride for his achievement. “Did you want to go?”

“Not to a nerd school like that,” Parker shook his head. “But I bet Cad’s going to call you from Missouri State, ask for your help now and again.”

“Unless he meets another world-class computer expert,” Hunter turned his chair to better face Parker. “They’re not as common as TV would have you believe.”

“My point is, you’re essential to Cadmus and to what he does. And Nala and Eliza, they can contribute to, with what they’ve discovered about themselves. And when you go your separate ways…”

“You think you’ll stop being a part of the group,” understanding dawned on Hunter. “Come on, man, Cad’s your best friend.”

“He was my best friend,” Parker murmured bitterly. “Before he got jacked up with weird alien powers and started fighting crime.”

Hunter opened his mouth to talk and closed it again, at a loss for words.

“Anyway, even if I’m somehow part of whatever this will become, it’ll never be the way it is now. You’re all going to change, because everybody does. I guess I am, too. We’ll never be a team like we once were.”

“But maybe that’s okay,” Hunter murmured. “Maybe what we grow into will be just as cool.”

“We won’t do the growing together,” Parker said bitterly. “I sound clingy af right now, but it’s true. We’re going to become decreasingly important to each other as time goes on.”

Hunter jumped, startled, as his phone rang. Automatically, he answered and winced at the sound of gunshots.

“They’re using some kind of superweapon!” Eliza shouted above the noise. “Can you find out who’s been developing it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Hunter turned back to his computer, frantically typing. “Describe it to me.”

After a few moments, Hunter had the location of the weapon’s origin, and who had the knowledge to stop it.  “We need someone to go pick up the parts we need,” he spoke into the phone, wincing at a crash.

“That’s my cue,” Parker groaned, getting to his feet.  “Don’t you dare do anything cool until I’m back, hey?”

“Of course,” Hunter grinned at his friend. “I’ll wait for you.”

This Week on 3×3…

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Just a general announcement- last week saw the release of several old poems of mine, and the next few weeks will feature short stories written by me over the last five or so years, released every other day. See you then!

-Craig

Poem: untitled

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It’s easy to burn. All you have to do is care.

Everyone thinks they can save the world, but we can’t save anyone.

Because if you try, the vultures

They scream they scream they scream they scream

They scare the goodness away and you’re alone.

And it hurts it hurts it hurts and you’re alone.

And I’m scared and tired and burning and I’m

Ready to go home.

Quest is Here!

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It’s been a long road, but The Valley Chronicles: Quest is officially available to purchase! While it is not yet on Amazon or Barnes & Noble, it can be purchased from Lulu.com or from me directly. I hope everyone enjoys it- I’ve worked so, so hard on it and it turned out really well!

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Poem: hate

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here’s the funny thing about hate

it just happens

no rhyme or reason

no sense or sensibility

people they just

hate

they take your words and

twist them

they take your dreams and

steal them

because they don’t understand Love

and they don’t understand you

and they don’t understand life

and maybe, just maybe,

they don’t want to

But here’s the funny thing about Love:

It finds you.

No matter if you forget to look.

Poem: Look Up

Written Spring 2016. [image error]

Memories are a funny thing, I guess

They fade, they falter, they have a midlife crisis

They decide to tweak themselves. Memories are not immutable.

They are always changing and reinventing themselves.

 

Example:

Once I remembered our first meeting differently,

But context lent that day a more sinister edge.

It would be several months of paper cuts

Before I would notice the bleeding.

 

It’s amazing how much can change in the span of a few years.

I was a kid, I had my fair share of friends and enemies

Things I didn’t regret and things I should’ve.

But I had something then I don’t have now.

Something tells me I won’t find it again for a very long time.

 

Every time I saw through the denial

And began to question the way you treated me

You coyly reached into my memories, and moved them around.

You showed me, calmly, slight alterations you had made.

 

I wish it was easier to move on. It feels like it should be.

It’s easy to run from the blades you see,

But there’s no escape from the deep incisions made

By a plastic knife slipped under your skin by a friend.

 

In the end, you watched me finally tear myself away with a half smile.

You watched me go back to my sisters with a grin.

With eyes that told me that no matter how much I grew, I would never be bigger than you.

 

But maybe I can gain a few feet, if I stop inspecting the blisters around my ankles.

And start searching the clouds for what I’ve lost.