2 out of 5

During the 250+ pages of the second volume of Walker Bean’s adventures – arriving, like, eight years after the first entry – I had some rather volatile wording regarding my feelings toward the thing.  I went to the internet in search of commiseration, as surely someone would share my thoughts, but I found a lot of praise instead: praising Renier’s world-building, and the sense of adventure.  And yeah, I agree that Renier did build a world, and that he did create an adventure, but I do not think that that made its way, effectively, to the page.  Walker Bean’s main failing is not its visual wealth, which is pretty great, or in the passion of the story, which does come through: it’s that it’s not a good comic book.  Renier creates space but does not direct us around it properly; he drafts humorous moments and exciting moments but does not choreograph them so that they’re funny or grabbing; he has come up with a bevy of characters, each with their own personalities and behaviors, but forgets to properly introduce them to the reader.

One reviewer did admit that the story felt convoluted, and that, I’d say, is a result of what I was responding to: after fifty or so pages, I started to become frustrated that all of this potential – a unique, complex mythology – was nigh lost behind an inability to present it to me compellingly.  I was fighting against the book to milk out successful moments.  If I had one “fix” to suggest to remedy this, it would be: it’s okay to take chapter breaks.  Part of Walker Bean’s exhausting effect is that Renier attempted to tell a pretty sprawling thing in one take.  We don’t look away from characters, and so many panels depict pointless things in order to drift us to the next plot point; we take in conversations that are, in part, incidental, and have to sift out what matters to us in that moment, and to the larger story.  It’s a mess.

This same mess – too much being packed in at once – was present at the start of the first GN, and then things kinda smoothed out as the plot gained traction.  Here, unfortunately, it’s the opposite: the book starts out really fantastic, with Walker and his crew stranded on an island, rebuilding their boat to return home.  Meanwhile, Walker and Shiv explore, and gather bits and pieces of the weird-ass history into which they’d stumbled.  This was a good springboard point: starting calm, offering the possibility of something discovered to kick the tale off on its next leg.  But Renier jumps into that “something discovered” with too much gusto.  It’s like twenty things at once, every other page, with characters acting like they understand a lot more than we do – often discussing things in whispers when it’s not clear why they would, which was really frustrating – and every opportunity to give us some bearings doesn’t do so, just slows down for some wandering panels until Aaron’s next vomit of ideas.

The art and lettering are steadier than in book one; every single panels is lush and detailed and Alec Longstreth has returned on color, definitely giving the different areas of the island(s) distinctly warm or cold or lonely or pleasant vibes.

It’s pretty to look at, for sure.  And Walker has bumbling hero appeal, plus Renier undeniably pieces together some cool in-universe concepts.  But, man, I just did not find the way these positives were presented to be a fun reading experience.