4 out of 5

I used to own Whiteout in single issue format.  I don’t anymore.  And upon rereading the series (found the trade used for an embarrassingly low price), the fact that I don’t own the issues anymore clearly makes me a dope, but I think we knew that already.  I know I ditched them when I was thinning out my Rucka collection… disapproving of the direction his writing had taken when his 52-era role at DC seem to grow.  His Detective Comics brought me back, and soon enough he was producing indie work more regularly, and I felt the quality return.  This has since been a lesson in separating Big Two work from creator-owned; certain guys like Morrison live in that world (and are given true free reign to fuck things up for the forseeable future), but a lot of great writers have no choice but to eke out some creativity amidst a guiding editorial direction which somewhat squashes things.  Doesn’t mean some good stuff can’t happen, but it’s a different flavor, and I suppose you have to be prepared for that if you’re going to write / read in those waters.

Anyhow.  I was sort of slicing Rucka work down the middle between cheesy sentimental stuff and more direct crime fiction, and Whiteout – again, I’m a dope – didn’t make the cut.  I guess I latched on to Antarctic Marshal Carrie Stetko’s unspoken lesbianism or something.  Actually, I don’t know.  ‘Cause Whiteout is absolutely crime fiction, and for a debut comic, it’s damned better than a good chunk of the stuff being put out now by seasoned writers.  There are signs of Rucka’s inexperience: the dual first-person narratives really aren’t necessary and reek a bit of book writing, and in general, the pages are a bit over-stuffed.  But, again, plenty of guys do this stuff regularly; it’s only in comparison to Greg’s now flush body of work (and having continued with his book writing, his ability to draw a thicker line between his styles) that it’s noticeable.  Otherwise, what’s here is what makes Greg’s plotting sing: the murder mystery that kicks things off is somewhat solved by the second issue, and yet there are still interesting details to fill in, still places we need the story to go.  In other words, Rucka rarely falls back on withheld information (the killer!  The solution!) to draw us to the next chapter or issue.  For sure, things are revealed as we go along, but it’s to the benefit of our involvement with the characters that we learn things as they do, and never feel like we’re being carrot-led or played.  And, of course, the tough female lead.  There’s the clear disdain for porn that was a common theme in Greg’s early stuff, but he doesn’t dig too deep into that, and introduces the character template that’s served him well since: the realistic female who’s neither the strict femme fatale or the ass-kicking hero.  Carrie has to be tough in her job, surrounded by men, but she’s not forbidden from feelings.

Carrie is introduced so strongly in the first chapter that it always seems odd that we end up spending an issue’s worth of time (in a small 4-issue series) with Lily, occupation mysterious but assisting Carrie.  As a side character, her part to play makes sense (and allows for an emotional component), but giving her the lead via cursive narration feels like a distraction.  We need to witness things that occur when Stetko isn’t around, but I wonder if Greg would’ve approached this differently with his experience now.

And then a huge part of what deservedly drew so much attention for the series: artist Steve Lieber.  Go read some B&W books and then come back to Whiteout to appreciate how much Steve adds to the story.  Bendis comments in his intro to Whiteout: Melt that it’s hard to believe Steve is a modern-day artist (as opposed to a 50s / 60s guy) and that’s incredibly accurate: there’s a grace to his work that’s not often witnessed, and yet it’s informed with a modernism that makes it feel fresh.  The pages are stuffed with world-building – living, breathing extras; the Antarctic bases feel alive – and he’s able to milk an incredible amount of atmosphere from what, to many, would’ve been a boring setting of snow and military barracks.

All of this being cleaned up (the original issues were a bit ink-heavy in portions, and the snow effects Lieber used were almost too effective on some pages) and compressed down to that ideal 6×9 size for $14 is a godsend.  And although my main criticisms are that the story clearly sinks back into book-writing format at times, this also makes it a great transition gift: a non-superhero title with a positive female role model and accessible, fascinating story and unique setting.  Just hope they haven’t seen the movie version first so you don’t have to explain that away.