5 out of 5

Greg Rucka’s return to Wonder Woman as part of DC’s ‘back to (some version of) basics’ Rebirth re-skinning was exciting in and of itself.  Although I’ve been down on a fair amount of Greg’s AAA books, there was a brief period during which he’d done his time in the trenches to get some leeway on some bigger properties, and it produced a couple of generally great runs: His ___ take on Wonder Woman, and (with Brubaker) Gotham Central.  And the ‘generally’ in both of those cases is only because they each ended up getting hijacked by crossover nonsense, which led into a dark period of 52s and fluff.  I do need to reread Greg’s work after and during this period – I mean, his brief stint on Batwoman was pretty great, but there was a certain sparkle missing from Checkmate, his Superman maxi-series and some other offerings – but otherwise I was happy to see him return to the indie streets with Stumptown, Lazaraus, and more.  He popped up on some Marvel books, but I was sort of hoping he’d gotten tired of the editorial mandates and made a decisive switch so I wouldn’t have to face the disappointment of one of my favorite authors trying his best to manage franchise titles that will always be tainted with major publisher manipulations.

Rebirth has been well received by fans as DC finally making some headway in listening to and applying reader feedback.  I remained skeptical: A reboot is a reboot.  And that skepticism feels mighty fine after having sampled a couple Rebirth books.

I’ve waaaay front-loaded this review with cynicism toward The Big Two to underline why my positive response to Wonder Woman – no spoilers, you can see the five stars up there – is especially satisfying.  It was, as mentioned, exciting to see Greg back on the title that had, in my eyes, made him.  But what would it mean?  So many ups and downs had occurred in the intervening years and we’re currently in the midst of an interesting ongoing conversation regarding gender roles in media (if not in real life, but with media as a conscious/subconscious outlet for those feelings); would Wonder Woman 2016 skimp out on ‘comic’ and go for ‘agenda?’  Would it suffer from some kind if background instruction from DC overlords?

The introductory one-shot hinted at the direction Greg would take, but it was still up in the air.

Here, now, I can start the review.

…It’s not perfect.  There are some moments where Greg steps slightly aside his narrative to make some gender comments, and the sort of backwards way we’re walking into his chosen narrative – alternating issues showing two distinct timelines, present day and ‘year one,’ when Diana first came to the world of man – is intended to focus on plot (shock!) and character (double shock!), but needs the ol’ page turning conflict, so the battles that occur feel somewhat wedged in there.  It’s also a little discomfiting to see modern technology (e.g. iPhones) so liberally applied in the Year One storyline, but I won’t knock it for that; that’s one of the exceptions made for a constantly present comic universe.

However, regarding the former contention, it’s worth recognizing that Greg has always had a slight agenda, and its why he got recognized as a strong writer for female leads.  That agenda sometimes isn’t direct, or is applied through action and not words, but it’s there (maybe we can just replace ‘agenda’ with ‘outlook’ at this point), and while it does get a couple of purposeful pause-and-reflect moments in WW, it ends up being completely relevant to how this tale is told (in Year One, Wonder Woman’s surprise at being injected into a male-dominated society is thus reflected in the present day plotline) and is also about 1000% more intelligently offered than in, say, anything Bendis writes or even more status-quo subversive – but still agenda obvious – books like the recent Mockingbird.  For example, Diana, introduced to a mall, finds her eyes drawn toward a bikini ad – okay, point made – but than toward leading his (presumed) girlfriend by the hand – both looking quite happy, mind you – and then to a teen’s high-heeled shoes.  Following behind that first shot, the intention is clear, but the latter two are not common easy targets for Sunday feminists (to coin a term), and that they’re shown solely through panel direction, no accompanying explanatory text, is what has come through Greg’s experience in this field, and his relationships formed with, in this case, Nikola Scott.

Regarding the latter, I’d still say there were ways to get this where it needed to be without the fight sequences, but Greg doesn’t necessarily abuse it: There are no fake will she survive / won’t she survive cliffhangers, and each of these scenes serves as not just a distraction but as a way of moving a piece into place for the story.  Again, were there less fan-serving ways to do so?  Sure, but this was an acceptable concession for a DC book.

Which leads to the overwhelming reason why I nudge this up to five stars: I am excited for the next book.  Legitimately.  As in wishing I had it now.  With DC and Marvel, as my tastes evolved over the last decade, sometimes I am curious about an upcoming book, but rarely, rarely excited.  That shift alone is noteworthy, but it comes on the back of 11 issues that don’t set up some malarkey Lost mystery, or promise reveals if you hang around until issue X.  It’s tweaked my excitement through plot and characters alone.  And outside of my feelings, while the present day storyline has a set arc (The Lies) which covers the odd books from #1 – 11, and posits a bad guy in The Sears group, there’s no earth-shattering crisis looming or gasp-thor’s-jane-foster shocker to rope us in for the following arc; in the Year One storyline it’s even more open-ended.  This is not a book written for trades.  This is Greg writing the story at his own pace.  And I simply am excited to see where that story goes, as I was with his original WW, and landmark titles like Queen and Country.

Another potential qualm to squash is how this alternating telling works.  I’d think the inclination for most authors would be toward getting cute with it: Repeated phrases and scenes in the past and present.  Rest assured, that’s not how this is going.  Each half can he read fully on its own (DC is collecting them as such, and as a side note, the collected Year One solicits go up to issue 10, hence my reviewing those issues now, though the story is still going), but is also rewarding to read as published, alternating per issue.  There are no explicit call outs, but Greg has made sure to align his heroine’s actions so that they make sense when read in sequence.  Its a complicated way to tell a story that he makes look pretty easy.  (Unless it was all a happy accident, in which case: Kudos.)

Art-wise, I can’t imagine better combinations than what we got.  The present day, which could be interpreted as gloomy DC, has the heavy, shadowy art of Liam Sharp.  While Sharp has notes of Derrick Robertson in his jagged shadowing style and facial construction, his sense of paneling trumps Robertson (to me), and his settings always impart a smart sense of spacing, even when sparse on the details.  His action isn’t all that limber (it feels slightly off-timed), but his character acting absolutely makes up for that.  Laura Martin supplies wonderfully earthy, grounding colors that keep Sharp’s art buoyant, even where his heavy lines could weigh it down.  Year One has Nikola Scott, very much echoing Drew Edward Johnson’s work on Rucka’s original run and is much ‘cleaner,’ representing a happier time in the DCU.  It’s also Scott’s best work to date, requiring a lot of unspoken acting that she pulls off marvelously.  As with Sharp, setting is key: She gets to cross the line from Themyscira to our world and in both cases the feeling is unique.  Romulo Fajardo Jr. matches the tone with a slightly more pastel, blended palette.

Jodi Wynne letters both books.  While the sound effects felt off in key places, I really dug the way the Amazonian / humans conversations were handled (two different languages, without an asterisk telling us so), as well as the method chosen for showing us that the Amazons speak at a level ‘above’ ours, in a way.

Greg Rucka has taken the Rebirth opportunity not to completely rebrand the character, but – like Morrison’s Batman run but without all the Granty plotting confusion – to try to make sense of everything she’s been through, by having the character experience conflicting memories of her life and trying to put those pieces together.  To cover this wide spectrum, Greg has split the story issue by issue between past and present stories.  It’s not the most ‘daring’ book on the shelf, but it feels like one of the few big name titles getting the chance to work itself out at its own pace.  For a long-term writer like Greg, this is ideal, and it has me truly eager to see where he takes things.