5 out of 5

Rucka plays with themes of dedication to family and cause as we get some flashbacks of Forever’s training as a child, paralleled with the travails of a waste family whose property is destroyed in a flood and thus must make their way to the annual “Lift” – the processing event where waste has the chance to be selected for elevation to serf status.  Rucka’s writing is solid, Lark’s art is fantastic, and Arcas’ colors are always fitting.

But what makes it five stars?  Because it’s pitch-perfect, duh.

As I’ve commented anywhere else I write Greg Rucka’s name, generally, he writes for the long run.  Once he found his footing – both in books and comics – and even in his major publisher work, while that might offer more action up front, he grew more comfortable (or perhaps had more of a built-in audience to afford) setting things up slowly.  First arcs, to fresh eyes, might seem fairly empty or even cliched.  And indeed, the first arc of Lazarus, though similarly solid, good-looking and promising, had it’s share of evil corporation post-apocalypsy stereotypes.  The timeline included in the letter pages indicated that this was a big project, but it was sort of meaningless without context, like, great, here’s a whole bunch of names and events that we’ll pretend matter to this storyline which hasn’t even really kicked off yet.  With a totally different vibe, Atomic Robo had something similar: you’d see the timeline on the website, but it wasn’t until the series proved itself with several volumes that you realized the scope was legit.  So here in volume 2 of Lazarus, we’re seeing that big-world promise fulfilled.  It might be that things feel more grounded by focusing on the more relative experiences of the waste family (the Barrets), as well as the intense pressures of Forever’s childhood, the stresses of which we’ve all experienced in our own ways.  By stepping back from some of the over-bearing politics of the first arc, we get a better sense of how this world can actually fit together, making the ‘building’ in the back-pages – mini-studies of each family’s business growth with an accompanying ad designed by design guy Eric Trautmann – feel exciting and eye-opening and not info-overkill overwhelming.  Rucka comments in the letter pages about how he prefers to give context through the story instead of hand-holding with talking heads, and that is exactly what comes to the fore with his dialogue here: so much is told through small exchanges, given more weight by Lark’s skill with expressions.  It’s really stunning how much you feel like you get each of the Barrets’ members after only a few panels while not being able to just brush them off as fulfilling a particular character archetype.  And again, Rucka juxtaposes this with the Carlyle family, giving us a different side of sister Jo, such that the assumptions we might’ve made in volume one are challenged.  Underlining… once more… how it’s about the long run.

Enough about that.  Art-side, I’m so fucking happy Lark is still here, and even better, it seems like he might be getting into a groove instead of preparing for departure, as his partnership with Brian Level (no idea on the split there – inks?  Backgrounds?) is consistently credited in all issues (‘art and letters by Michael Lark with Brian Level’) and the artwork itself follows suit, not having the one or two issue departure I experienced in issues #1 – 4.  As with the storyline, though, this might be because we’re much more grounded here, not as much action, and those interactions are where Lark’s minutiae really shine.  Santi Arcas’ colors and Lark’s lettering… can’t be praised enough.  …Because you don’t notice them.  This is a world of rather stark contrasts – the ruin of the land of the waste, the splendor of the family’s lands, cold medical environments, the breathing mass of the populace headed to Lift – and the feelings resonating from the pages, just at a glance, are never at odds with the content.  You’re never taken out of the book, nor do you feel like you can just fly right through it.  Sometimes a colorist’s job is to stand out, but in tales where story is primary (which isn’t all comics, let’s admit), never having to break from the world of the comic is of the utmost importance, and the colors provide that submersion.  Same with the lettering.  Until someone in the letter pages mentioned they didn’t like it, I didn’t realize I never felt like I was reading word balloons.  I could just hear the characters speaking.  It’s pretty awesome.

And I mentioned Trautmann somewhere up there, but he really knocked it out of the park with the ads.  There’s no indication that these are part of the book’s content.  It’s freaking awesome.  And except for some minor, minor unimportant details, the ads are utterly convincing.

Enough.  Arc two is utterly convincing.  I’m so glad to see Greg on an indie ongoing, and I hope to get as wrapped up in its world as I did with Queen and Country.  ‘Lift’ gives me every gleeful impression that I’ll have that hope fulfilled.