5 out of 5

Some writers just need the right project.  I’ve wanted to read Jason Aaron’s ‘Scalped’ a few times; it’s always being recommended by sources I generally trust.  But whenever I’ve picked it up, the gristly language just always strikes me as trying too hard, a problem a lot of writers have when they try writing down and dirty noir.  Even good writers cross this line semi-frequently – notably Brubaker – so it’s not something that’s necessarily indicative of how that writer writes (…though sometimes it is, like Ellis’ always vitriol-infused pen).

As Preacher and Punisher were the perfect outlets for Garth Ennis to allow a balance of his crassness and complexity, it seems – I hope – that ‘Bastards’ might be the right place for Aaron to get his gut-rumblin’ one liners out of the way via the hick locals of Craw County while wending a more powerful emotional core through the silent Earl Tubb, coming back home to pack up his recently-departed Uncle’s house and then get the hell outta’ there.  But we know how these things go: Earl can’t but help getting involved with local shenanigans involving Coach Boss’ circle of thugs, doling out some old school justice via a Walking Tall stick inherited from his Father, the previous sheriff, whose shadow looms heavily over Tubb…  Things escalate, people brawl.  But we know how these things go.  …Don’t we?

At some point in this first arc, I started to feel like Aaron had stumbled into another common problem with the genre: making the hero’s revenge scheme too heroic.  Tubb tries to set things right by going to the law, by conversing with the people in charge; all he gets in return are shouts for him to leave town.  And so he turns to violence, and it feels like Latour’s gorgeously grungy art and dusky, bloody colors and the perfectly loose-handed lettering of Jared K. Fletcher are setting the stage to glamorize Earl’s inevitable outburst.  But this is ignoring what Aaron has set before us: Tubb’s continual calls that go to an unknown voicemail, leaving loving and honest messages about being troubled by this town and his forming intentions; themes via flashback or well-timed panel of hidden dangers – these elements ground ‘There Was a Man’ as being about something more than revenge.  Indeed, the first arc – as Jason had apparently mentioned before its conclusion – is just a prologue.  It’s intensely exciting to consider where the writer may take things from here.

By giving in to their Southern roots, Jason Aaron and Jason Latour have crafted the most perfect little package, a boiling pot of all the raw emotions that tend to hit us when we think about those pieces from our pieces of which we might not be too proud.  But most importantly (to me, anyway, a.k.a. THE ONLY PERSON WHO MATTERS*), I feel like ‘Bastards’ might be the key to unlocking my appreciation of the writer’s other works.  So my comic book shelves and wallet may take a hit, but I’m looking forward to testing the waters of other Aaron titles.