4 out of 5

Greg Rucka has been associated with espionage and strong female characters for… all of his comic career.  He jokes about the latter a bit in the back matter of Lazarus, but except for some of his Major Two publications, I must generalize and agree with a gist of his concluding statement – that the characters feel right as women; that is, they are not forced to fit a role.  And Lazarus is a prime example of that.  It’s also years of experience for Greg that have earned him enough freedom to write something that can combine the big drama of comics with the smaller scale interaction dynamics at which he is a master.  We seem to be seeing a return to indies for Rucka after a long stint involved with the big machinery of DC, and while some writers take to that world – such as Morrison – it’s a trend one can note with indies who make good and then return to indies.  It’s nice to play in the big boy pool but, I’m guessing, you eventually suss out that none of these worlds are really yours, despite how much of an effect you may make or try to make while you have the chance.  That doesn’t mean there’s not satisfaction to be had there, or good books to be written, but it’s undoubtedly a different type of satisfaction than one may feel from a full-on creator-owned world.

Greg’s early books – Whiteout and Queen and Country – can be seen as the author finding his comic voice.  Whiteout is pretty rough in that sense, but Q & C, being written as it was across several years and after Greg had crossed over into the heavies, shows an interesting sense of growth and awareness as things went on, without ever betraying the awesome core sensibilities of the series.  Fast forward many years, and with his DC stint seemingly winding down, we got an excellent, short run on Detective Comics featuring Batwoman.  Bolstered by the art of J.H. Williams III and Jock, Rucka delivered some comparatively narratively minimalist arcs that, to me, were evidence of the author’s struggle to regain some of that innocence that can be lost when you’re churned through a million 52-issue crossover series.  And then recently we got some Stumptown minis, which I felt were then an indie version of ‘back to basics’ books, set in the very real world with relatively low key detective tales that gave Greg a chance to focus on the character work for which he was known.

Apologies to Mr. Rucka for all of my assumptions here.  Strictly based on having followed the author in comic and book since the early ’00s.

Now we come to Lazarus.  Having proven to himself that he still has what it takes to just write, he can open things up a bit more and play around. So, yes, ‘Family’ has some tried and true (comic) tropes – the one man (woman) badass army, the arc ending with a “nothing is what you think” cliffhanger – and some great, larger-than-life action sequences detailed with brutally awesome momentum by Michael Lark, my first artist crush in my rediscovery of comics in 2001.  But our intro to the this new world also shows how much Rucha has learned about setting the tone: our cast of characters is large enough to feel varied but manageable enough to keep them all in mind (something even seasoned writers seem to skip through sometimes, that though these characters might have been in YOUR head for ages, they’re new to us, so go easy); the roles are recognizable enough to choose sides but everyone is allowed enough flourish to not become cliche; the setting is post- whatever enough to intrigue and suspend our disbelief, but grounded enough in modern day so that the stakes are recognizable.  It’s a pretty perfect spot for moving forward.  And best of all, Rucka comes clean with the image that started the book – basically a woman fatally shot, but somehow getting back up and finishing off her attackers, mystery TBD as to how that happens – and yet, even though he (and Lark) kick things off with that exact sequence, the book doesn’t feel just like a justification for the scene.  Our lead, the shot-ed, Forever Carlyle, is a ‘Lazarus,’ a construct (human?  part robot?  grey area?) bred and raised to be dedicated to the protection of its Family; Families, in the Lazarus world, being small clans who’ve divvied up the land and now act as ruling powers, as few as 6 people, with ‘Serfs’ under them as a serving class and the remainder ‘Waste’ dotting the rundown landscapes.  Yes, it’s economic and ecologic woes taken to one logical conclusion, and its apparent that Rucka thought this out as much as possible before birthing his beloved idea into the story.  The back matter has a timeline that further fleshes things out, along with real life news bleeps from Rucka that frighteningly echo the ‘advancements’ in the Lazarus world.  ‘Family’ focus on Forever’s family, and the backstabbing that’s prompting attempted takeovers and questionable alliances or forced wars with other other families, and Forever’s flip-flopping between her programming and her questioning her programming.

Again, these could all be sorted out into different fiction or sci-fi tropes, but it’s written with love, with patience, and without (yet) any preaching.  This is the world, and here is our introduction to it.

Which, storywise, also …because I’m hard to please… amounts to a knock, because this is one of those “take it on faith” books.  ‘Family’ is really well done but its not jaw-dropping.  I have full faith it will be.  But I have to be fair to those who might not care about the author’s name and just bought the book; in that scenario, this would make it to my ‘keep reading’ pile, but not yet bagged and boarded.  ::cough cough yesi’maweomse::

Art – Lark.  I pick on Sean Phillips for being consistent; Lark is the same, but I guess the difference is that I’m not over-saturated with Lark, so it still gives him the wonder jeebies when I see his work.  ‘Stop working so hard,’ is the message I’m sending to Phillips, womp womp.  I’m not sure if Lark has lettered his own books in the past, but I dig the style here.  The bubbles are spaced well but the lettering has a graceful compression to it that makes the bold typeface actually stand out for proper emphasis.  It’s funny how easy it is for those words to just blend in when the lettering doesn’t sell it.

On colors, I’m new to Santi Arcas, but he (…she?) goes great with Lark.  Lark adds plenty of dusky details with his penciling / inking, but Arcas gives it a whole ‘nother layer with the colors, the blends used in the backgrounds especially effectively breaking up pages where the details in that layer are nil.  Issue 3, in front of me currently, has a scene of a family Serf member (…I believe he’s a Serf…) tippy typing on a computer.  For a few panels, it’s just a talking head.  Lark’s realism combined with Arcas amazing balance of the computer tones makes those panels work; for the shots where you can see the computer, it’d be easy to overwhelm us with nonsense, but somehow we’re thrown all of these pop colors – orange, yellow, blue – and they work without seeming discordant with the otherwise dark nature of the book.  Good stuff.

Now back to Lark for a moment so I can add another criticism attributing to the four star rating (it’s very important you be able to justify this when explaining this review to all of your lovers and friends).  The books I’ve seen Lark on… I soon see another artist join him in the credits a few issues in… and then a few issues more and that artist is taking over, with Lark stepping in for occasional one shots.  Issues 3 and 4 have art and letter ‘with’ Stefano Gaudiano & Brian Level for issue 3 and then just Level on issue 4.  I have no idea what the split is.  So I’m fully making this up.  But in general: Lark should ink Lark.  He has so many minor touches in his work that add grace to the panels that that same hand needs to touch the inks for it to fully translate.  I was introduced to Gaudiano when he stepped in on Gotham Central and he seemed to be a Lark student, but, frankly, his art always felt stiff.  And let’s say he’s on inks in issue 3 (at least in part) – it feels fucking stiff.  It’s a bummer.  Issue 4 is a huge step up – Level (again, TOTALLY assuming it’s mostly an inks assist…) has a lighter hand to the extent that some scenes almost feel playful, if that’s possible to express through inks and possible for me to not sound like a jackass for interpreting a panel as such, but I still maintain: Lark was meant for Lark.  But if the workload demands assistance, Your Holiness (yes, me) supports Level.

The end.