2 out of 5

Do I want to read the next volume of The Rage?  Yes, sorta, to find out what happens, but that makes me admit that I’ve fallen into that most basic trap of entertainment: “just one more episode,” or “just one more issue” because there’s a Something lingering that you’re curious about.  With Rage, because it was easy to read, that Something is pretty much just… what the hell is the focus of the book?  Meaning I recognize I don’t care about the characters or story itself, the 48 pages just went by so quickly that, sure, I’d read another 48 to figure out if this is going anywhere.  But that’s a trap.  The volume has had enough pages to make me actually invested, and I’m not.

Boisserie starts things off well, dropping us right in the middle of some Zombie shit wherein the twist is that the sickness is only affecting kids.  Concepts – quarantines, ‘tagged’ kids to rescue, transmitters that emit sound that ward off the infected – are all rattled off as a team investigates a site for retrieval of some newly non-sick (you can outgrow this illness, apparently), and artist Marlo Kerfriden has a clean, European style with big, open panels that look good in the Titan Comics over-size hardcover – with effectively separated though otherwise unobtrusive colors from Boubette – so it feels like The Rage might be a full-throttle adventure, Boisserie realizing that we don’t need explanations in the Modern Zombie era and also realizing that we instantly “get” the zombie kid concept; no need to philosophize over what that could mean.  And he sticks to that.  Rage isn’t forthcoming with justifications.  If anything, it’s extremely absent of that, letting us pick it all up (in-world jargon included) through context, which is just fine.  Two good examples from the genre – Walking Dead (though I dislike Kirkman, I accept the role the book has played) and Crossed – have latched onto this no-explanations-necessary style to focus on their characters instead.

But here’s where Rage missteps: it turns out that Pierre isn’t telling us any of that so he can just substitute in another mystery instead: that of the backstory of Nurse Amina, who’s recently joined the rescue squad that “removes” the healed from quarantines.  She claims to not have any kids; we get a flashback about her kids.  She’s the actual focus.  She’s the McGuffin that the “why” normally represents in these zombie tales.  Boisserie isn’t leaving all that out in favor of a full-throttle horror adventure, or to contemplate the effects of this in relation to the world at large; he’s leaving it out because he doesn’t care, because it’s actually Amina’s story.  Only the short-form and tossed-in-at-the-deep-end opening has prevented us from forming any bond with the character; we’re only supposed to care because it’s a mystery.  This is akin to the opening seasons of Mad Men vs. the latter ones: it’s all about Don’s past, until it’s not.  That show had the benefit of atmosphere and several seasons to play out this bait-and-switch more distractingly and slowly; Rage does it all in your face right away and it’s… disappointing.

So my curiosity toward the second volume is: will we get back to zombies?  Or will they continue to just be the backdrop to our forced character focus?  If it’s the former, all I’ve resolved is that Boisserie padded his tale unnecessarily; if the latter, then I’ve simply justified my disappointment.  Not a great reason to keep reading.  But, as mentioned, it is easy to read, with effective if un-splashy art, so at least it’s not a slog to get to the “to be continued” where you consider whether or not that continuation matters.