2 out of 5

Found it in a dollar bin.  Since Snyder’s attention-grabbing run on Batman, I’ve been questioning whether or not I should check out his work.  With a lot of authors, I’ve lately accepted that their indie books might be great but their mainstream stuff might only echo what notable traits they bring to their creator-owned effort; so, discovering an Image title by Snyder seemed to be a good way of seeing what I may be missing.

And Scott (and co-Scott Tuft) isn’t a bad writer by any means, but there’s nothing particularly notable about the flavor of the text in this issue.  The dialogue has that kind of fake patter to it that’s particular to comic, and, frankly, the attempts at levity in what’s otherwise trying to look like a gothic horror piece didn’t really feel earned to me.  However, given his willingness to plum the topical depths of rape and murder and boldness with placing a kid as a lead in this setup (at least in this issue), I can understand that he might bring a more ‘realistic’ sense of shadow to the Batman universe that would seem to have been missing during the last few years of 52 insanity and Grant Morrison’s epic, but unquestionably zany, arc.  Nothing new textually, then, but a good choice from DC to apply to their Dark Knight.

Art-wise, I get something of a sense of “read this book because it looks amazing and the story something something” thanks to Attila Futaki’s art, which is absolutely responsible for giving off that horror vibe that the writing doesn’t always sell.  Futaki’s figures honestly have a Colan-esque sweep to them, but the style is otherwise reminiscent of the realism guys like Scott Eaton or Butch Guice can deliver, skewed through a believably researched era-appropriate (early 1900s) filter.  The cover is really what caught my eye and got me to flip through the issue, , and is the book’s most creepy image.

But overall, I wasn’t grabbed by any of the setup here, purposeful slow-burn plotting aside.  The lead kid is trying to find his father on a train-hopping cross country trip and I just didn’t care much for his plight (though my weak familial ties probably influence my inability to ‘feel’ anything about finding out that your mother – who raised you – isn’t actually your mother), and the introduction of a travel companion came about a bit too easily.  The scenes of the killer that are interspersed are too far out from anything else in the issue to connect; slow-burn can mean you spread all your plot pieces way far out then slowly draw them together, but – and sure, maybe because I missed the first chapter – that version of it wasn’t clicking for me here.  As a snap judgment, it’s never a great sign when I have to read the first two pages 6 or 7 times because I stop paying attention a few panels in.