4 out of 5

A Canadian curiosity from Chapter House publishing.

I mean… there’s really nothing Canadian about it, the alliteration was just there for the taking.

Danny Zabbal’s ‘Life, Death and Sorcery’ is an interesting juxtaposition of compressed and decompressed narrative pacing; story-rich and yet fairly straightforward plotting; surface characterizations that are deeply affecting…  It’s a weird read.  It’s quick, and you get the gist through the simple dialogue and framing, but in the back of your brain, you get that there’s a lot more going on.  The pink color hues, initially jokey dialogue, and soft-faced characters belie a different kind of book than I think we’re reading, or what I hope we’re reading, given the ballooning scope hinted at in the fourth issue.

And I recognize the above sounds like a partial knock, but I actually think its a consequence of a creator letting his characters do the work instead of forcing it into word bubbles and narration.

A prologue in 1895 is our only hint at the sorcery in the title, as two spell-wielders – Hank and Molly – square off against a man named Turgan over something called the Elara.  Hank casts a spell that sends Turgan forward in time ‘a hundred (days)’ or so, and then our prologue ends and we flash forward to… 1995, i.e. 100 years.  Now the story of sisters Amelia, Coco, and ___, from eldest to youngest, begins, somewhat from Amelia’s perspective as she struggles to find meaning after the loss of a friend.  Meaning seems to come from a disembodied voice… which we also heard in 1895…

Continuing on from here is doing Zabbal’s story a disservice, as the casual way he builds this and winds things in is the subtle joy of the title.  Even the 100 year jump occurs without hand-holding besides telling us the year; the first indication of many that the creator has confidence that we can follow along with his characters’ experiences without having them always speak their mind (we get glances; we get thoughts), because they tend to act like real people, who, wouldn’t ya know, don’t actively narrate their lives out loud.  When this style butts up against some action pieces, as the girls get involved in time-warped sorcerey shenanigans, it doesn’t necessarily blend smoothly, but Zabbal’s clean art and precise framing makes it as pleasant a ride as possible.

L, D and S sets us up for quite an experience within these first four issues.  You can read them in a single sitting, and might feel underwhelmed initially, but as the thing blooms over the course of the read, you appreciate the sense of quiet Zabbal wove into the book.  Here’s hoping our next arc continues to build on the promise…