3 out of 5

Okay, I’m not a hater, so bear with me.

Preacher, as I’m sure it was for a lot of people, was part of my tutelage in “mature” comics – one of the structural blocks in the gateway to expanding one’s horizons beyond the Batman / Spider-Man expectations that maybe probably plagued our youth.  This process generally occurs during a “reintroduction” to comics, which will happen in our post high-school / college years.  You know, getting a tad more aware, getting restless, looking for new voices that “speak” to us.  A comic spinner rack kicks up some nostalgia, and nary a few months later you’re caught in the net; a junkie, consuming heroes as frequently as the weekly comic cycle can churn them out.

And then there are whispers of Watchmen, or someone hands you Y the Last Man.  Or: Preacher.  This is my story, but I promise you, it’s not an original one.

I knew Preacher’s limitations upon reading it – that Ennis was crass for crass’ sake more often than not, and that the pot-shots are religion are fairly easy ones – but it’s still so different from what you’d read at that point (and from what was published by the majors – even at Vertigo – in the mid / late 90’s), and it hits that “new voice” requisite with endearing vitriol and cynical snark, that it inevitably makes an impression.  “This is a great comic” is the impression.

With a Preacher TV series on the way, it seems like a good time to revisit the book.  And with plenty of years between my first and subsequent reads and now, and plenty of other comics read during that time, mine tastes have grown and evolved.  I have an opinion.  Surprised?

Firstly, let’s get something basic out of the way: that this is like twenty years ago that it was written.  While Ennis has sort of rounded the curve into curmudgeon nowadays, I’d actually say he hit his peak some years after Preacher – with Punisher MAX, with the first arcs of Crossed.  This was a very important training ground, for sure, but all of the snipes at society and masculinity and religion feel pretty… surface level at this point.  Garth’s take on gender roles is forever as confused as anyone’s (be a man, but being a man is dumb; strong women are sex positive and yearn for lost loves), but man it was a different time.  We have the simplistic association of brotherhood equals honor, nevermind that you’re acting like the same assholes you just beat up; gettin’ it up the butt equates to different forms of suicide for different people; and a somewhat oblivious “fuck this” mentality that sort of pre-supposes a certified Right and Wrong when the book would claim to criticize the same.  These are red flags that would have a tougher time passing nowadays, but Preacher had bravado back when it appeared, as well as appealing to all our hopes that someone will justify our own Fuck This point of views.  Ennis, later in the series, may have smoothed out some of these themes, but it’s not evident in this first collection.  It’s presented pretty matter-of-factly, which leads me to think he might not’ve started questioning this approach until later in his career.  (But even then, he just get smoother with the delivery: Ennis has been writing these types of characters for years.  I would venture that Punisher and Crossed worked because they were bereft of a lot of the hope that springs up behind Garth’s “but life is worth fighting for” tales.)  So it’s a big strike against Preacher at this point, that philosophically, it’s rather immature.

The second hit is the logical leap involved in the premise, which, if you’re late to the show, is that preacher Jesse Custer is possessed by a god baby, which helps him to learn that god has up and quit.  That just won’t stand, by golly, so Jesse is off – with ex-girlfriend Tulip and vampire buddy Cassidy – to go tell the old man a thing or two.  These first seven issues give us that background while also drawing in the first several of a million distraction subplots.  The leap here is that we’re assuming god is in the wrong.  No one really asks why he would leave, it’s just: god is (essentially) dead!  Fuck that guy, and fuckity fuck some more!  It’s as short-sighted as the concepts mentioned above.

But again, Ennis was just tapping into our inherent fears and frustrations, and giving them a quirky outlet.  Which… hey, finally some positives… is where and when Preacher works.  If you can set aside all the moralizing and lessoning and, uh, preaching, and just read it as a comic (yes, ironic since it’s our gateway to more mature works),  it’s ridiculously goofy and fun.  It’s over the top silly.  The indication of this is right there with one of the main characters: Cassidy.  Into this pot of religion and social study, let’s toss a vampire.  ‘Cause why not.

I do think that Preacher shapes up as it goes along, as Ennis writes more about these characters and starts questioning his own setup.  Or at least I want to believe that.  But an honest reassessment does suggest that this was somewhat a comic of its time.  It will probably always work for comic readers of a particular age or mindset, but I do think there are works above and beyond that end up making it read much less revolutionary than it may once have.