When Exposition Is A Four Letter Word – Review Of Deathstroke #9

I must admit I’ve been dragging my heels on this review of Deathstroke #9 all week. I’ve been pretty clear about my feelings on the subject of Rob Liefeld’s take over of Deathstroke. Liefeld certainly has his fans and his detractors. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m in the “I Hate Rob Liefeld” club, we here at the Crisis On Infinite Midlives home office have been more than willing to use Liefeld’s name as an easy punchline, the same way Tim Allen might make grunting noises into a microphone instead of telling an actual joke. But, honestly, in the 90s, if I was looking for ridiculously silly, overblown art, I read The Tick. At least the silly had a purpose in that. Liefeld has never done much for me art wise. However, I’ve never read his actual writing. I’m aware he’s created a number of characters for which such comics luminaries as Alan Moore have written spectacular stories. I mean, he must know what he’s doing if he keeps staying employed in the business and Alan Moore has played in his sandbox, right? Or does he just have some incriminating photos of Bob Harras somewhere?

After reading Deathstroke #9, I’m inclined to believe it’s the latter.

Read all about Deathstroke and his new playdate, Lobo, after the jump!

White People Problems: Mind The Gap #1 Review

I’ve read Mind The Gap #1 three times now, and I don’t yet know how I feel about it. From one angle, it’s a story populated by either thoroughly unlikeable rich-folk or entitled hipster children of privilege, with the only middle ground between the two occupied, literally, by the hired help. From another angle, it’s a competent whodunit with a dozen suspects, a solidly-plotted attention to detail, and a supernatural hook, albeit one that immediately made me think, “Huh… this guy’s read Midnight Nation.”

I’ll start with the single undeniable positive about this comic book: you get one hell of a lot of story for your money. This book is 46 pages of advertisement-free story for $2.99. And those pages introduce no less than twelve primary characters, establish that almost any of the eleven who aren’t the protagonist – slash – victim are possible suspects, and reinforces that if any of them winds up being the assailant and gets the needle for it, the only tragedy will be that the other ten will be allowed to live.

Seriously: these people suck just that much.