Graphic Content: Dark Ride Vol. 2 and 3 by Joshua Williamson, Andrei Bresses, and Adriano Lucas

One of the many ways I procrastinate when I should be writing is I watch roller coaster videos on Youtube. I have resorted to living vicariously through these videos because it takes a while to travel to the locations of these roller coasters and I don’t want to pay $20 for a corn dog. Luckily, writer Joshua Williamson and artists Andrei Bressen and Adriano Lucas have pooled their talents to create the graphic novel series Dark Ride, which combines two of my favorite things: amusement parks and horror. I reviewed Volume 1 of this series for the website No Flying, No Tights, and Volumes 2 and 3 offer a fitting end to this tale of Faustian bargains and trying/failing to live up to your parents’ expectations. 

Volume 1 of this story introduces readers to Devil Land, the Scariest Place on Earth, a horror-themed theme park designed by eccentric genius Arthur Dante. As heirs to his legacy, Arthur’s children Samhein (Sam), the dutiful son, and Halloween, the goth girl influencer, constantly try to show their father they are worthy to run the park, but they soon discover that there is something truly terrifying that helped Arthur build Devil Land. It turns out the streets of Devil Land are paved with human souls, and Sam and Halloween’s souls may be up for grabs. 

The series is enjoyable with Bressen and Lucas’s artwork helping writer Williamson fully realize the look for this park, especially the diabolical mascot that performs its own brand of vile mischief. Williamson, though, develops his characters to tell a compelling story, allowing Sam, an absentee father, becoming the book’s moral center as Halloween, often seen as shallow by her family, becoming a wild card that could save the day or send them all to Hell. For those horror fans that love the visual aesthetic as much as the spooky storytelling, all three volumes of Dark Ride are worth the price of admission, especially if you check it out at your local library. 

 

Graphic Content: The Devil That Wears My Face written by David Pepose and illustrated by Alex Cormack

 

God bless Mad Cave Studios! I say this as a horror fan and a fan of horror graphic novels. They might not have the same name recognition as Image Comics or Boom Studios! However, this means that they’re able to establish themselves as the scrappy underdogs of horror comics, and scrap they do. They don’t post inflammatory posts about the major comic companies or challenge editors to street fights, but they garner attention by coming up with the most unusual subjects for their stories, often throwing away traditional genre conventions. Their latest horror series, The Devil That Wears My Face, written by David Pepose and illustrated by Alex Cormack, calls itself “‘Face/Off’ meets ‘The Exorcist’,” and no other elevator-pitch-style tagline sums up a series better. 

In 1740, conflicted priest Father Vieri was summoned to Spain to perform an exorcism. The demon known as Legion has killed lesser priests who have tried to force him out of the Spanish nobleman in which he resides. When Vierti tries to remove the demon, Legion turns the tables on him and ends up switching bodies with Vieri. Now Legion is loose in the Vatican, spreading violence and chaos wherever he goes, and Father Vieri, whose captors believe he is the possessed Spanish nobleman, must stop Legion in his body before he burns the Vatican down. 

This book and Cormack’s gruesomely gory artwork, featuring people not just murdered but exploded, plants it firmly in the adult horror category, along with its use of demonic possession, but Pepose’s story owes a lot to Face/Off, the face-switching action film from the ‘90s, not only in its plot similarities but in its overall tone. This book zooms at an action movie pace as the stalwart heroes try to apprehend Legion and stop the demon’s carnage. And the delightfully evil Legion himself hams it up in a way that would make Castor Troy, Face/Off’s main villain, proud. Movie fans who gravitate between Jerry Bruckenheimer action and James Wan splatter might enjoy this horrific trip to 1700s Italy.

Graphic Content: Let Me Out by Emmit Nahil and George Williams

 

Some of you might be too young to remember the Satanic Panic, even if you are living through a rebranding of it as drag show banning and “parental choice.” Anything that seemed to deviate from traditional Christian values was branded as “Satanic.” Everything from Dungeons and Dragons to He-Man was labeled as being an instrument of the Dark Lord that would bring more wayward souls under his sway and thus destroy Western civilization. What was really going on is that it was used to stigmatize anyone the religious right saw as different, including those in the LGBTQ community. That is the horror, other than the actual demon, that is behind the story in Let Me Out, from writer Emmit Nahil and illustrator George Williams. (spoilers ahead!)

It’s 1979 and the devil is loose in the New Jersey suburbs, at least that’s what FBI agent Garrett and New Jersey Sheriff Mullen want you to believe. When a pastor’s wife is discovered brutally murdered, the two men concoct a story involving ritual sacrifice that covers up their involvement in the crime and of an overarching conspiracy. They’ve even found four scapegoats (Terri, Mitch, Lupe, and Jackson) that are considered outcasts. These four friends are soon running for their lives, but they soon get help from an unlikely source. All it might cost them is their souls.

George Williams’s illustrations don’t denote a gritty realism that most associate with horror comics, but his characters are always expressive and his depictions of violence are quite visceral. He also makes sure to illustrate the various ‘70s styles and anachronisms, like tape recorders and chain smoking in public offices, that immerses the reader in that decade. When the demon finally appears, the more cartoony art style takes away some of its sharper edges. It’s a demon but it’s actually a demon readers can root for.

That fact is also helped along by Nahil’s story which focuses on the teens caught up in this conspiracy. They come from different walks of life, whether it’s being the children of immigrants or being LGBTQ. The dialogue and interactions between this group is endearing in that they always stand up for each other and will carry them after they literally get beat down. When the demon finally makes its move, he almost becomes like a fifth member.

My only issue with the story is its ending and how abrupt it is. It seemed like there could have been more closure, but it might also be Nahil’s point. Perhaps even the devil himself is unable to completely save those LGBTQ kids who are encountering prejudice and violence in the past and in the present.

Recommended for patrons who love horror, LGBTQ stories, and the devil (or stories about the devil).

 

Graphic Content: Abbott and Abbott 1973

 

Urban fantasy and paranormal romance, including works by Jim Butcher and Patricia Biggs, are two speculative subgenres that often get lumped together. And just like chocolate and peanut butter, they create something better than the sum of their parts. Rather than dissect these stories for the elements that are either urban fantasy or paranormal romance, the meager taken up with this review would be better spent enlightening readers about a pair of graphic novels that are not only a great example of both urban fantasy and paranormal romance but contains some social commentary into which readers can sink their mental teeth. These two graphic novels are Abbott and its sequel Abbott 1973, both written by Saladin Ahmed and illustrated by Sami Kivelä.

Abbott introduces the reader to chain-smoking, tough as nails Elena Abbott, tabloid reporter with an acerbic wit, a need to always be smoking, and a supernatural destiny that piques the interest of the dark forces brewing in Detroit. In Abbott, Elena must battle a secret society with close ties to the Umbra, a literal force of darkness that wants to destroy the world. The first book introduces the reader to Abbott’s world and its colorful characters, some who don’t make it to the end of the first story. In Abbott 1973, after learning more about her destiny and enjoying a new relationship, Elena must find out who or what is trying to interfere in Detroit’s mayoral election. Elena and her friends must battle not only the agents of the Umbra but also the racism and corruption that flow through Detroit’s streets like poison.

Those who like hard-boiled noir, ‘70s cop shows, or urban fantasy will find something to like in Ahmed’s story. Elena features prominently in every panel, always smoking and rarely smiling. Elena might not have a lot to smile about, particularly when it comes to her status in this version of the Motor City. Elena has lost lovers to threats both mundane and paranormal, and she faces racism as well as sexism in her job as a reporter, but these struggles are what make her an interesting character as well as someone to whom modern readers can relate. Kivelä’s artwork helps immerse the reader in Elena’s world, not only by invoking the fashion and aesthetic of the ‘70s but by using an art style that brings to mind early ‘80s Vertigo comics. These books are for fans of The Dresden Files as well as the Mercy Thompson series, but they also display a social awareness in its depictions, for example, of racism among Detroit’s police. This look into deeper, darker issues that aren’t supernatural helps set it apart from the many heroines of this genre that are both witty and tough as nails.

Stream to Scream: Relic and Come Closer by Sara Gran

 

One particular Calvin and Hobbes comic stands out in my mind when I think of the strip’s philosophical underpinnings. As young Calvin and his imaginary pet tiger Hobbes are wandering through the forest, Calvin asks his anthropomorphic tiger if he believes in the devil and Hobbes, an astute, unbiased observer, states, “I’m not sure man needs the help.” Despite many believing this much more nuanced take on the origins of human evil, many possession stories, where a devil literally makes someone do something, still exist, but recent ones have also become more nuanced than “demon enters someone then others try to force it out.” The 2020 movie Relic uses the supernatural as a metaphor for losing oneself as the body loses its battle with time. Come Closer by Sara Gran, on the other hand, gives a very intimate and harrowing portrayal of losing oneself to a demonic entity, a battle that has the line between human and demon constantly blurring.

Relic stars Emily Mortimer as Kay, a woman who realizes that her mother Edna is not the woman Kay knew. After hearing that her mother has vanished, Kay and her adult daughter travel to Edna’s cottage and discover clues to Edna’s deteriorating mental state. Those fears are not assuaged when Edna returns and exhibits some very odd behavior. Not to mention, there is some strange mold growing in the house and Kay is having some very unusual dreams. This all leads to a very surreal meditation on mortality as well as our own eventual decay. Relic has some frightening images, but what really makes this movie stick with you is how powerless Kay, or anyone, is to stop what’s happening.

That helplessness is also part of what makes Sara Gran’s Come Closer so terrifying. Told exclusively through protagonist Amanda’s experiences, the story begins with her experiencing lapses in memory and strange dreams, dreams of a red beach and a strange woman with sharp teeth. Soon, Amanda’s behavior becomes more erratic. Her husband soon becomes concerned, then begins to drift away, while Amanda tries everything from therapy to a self-help book on demonic possession that pretty much verifies that Amanda is indeed possessed. However, just as Edna is powerless to stop her decline, Amanda is constantly thwarted by the demon, usually by taking control of her body long enough to dissuade anyone from helping her. Both stories talk about a slow and horrifying loss of control, but Come Closer has the reader vicariously experience Amanda’s possession. Far from the spinning head and vomiting, Amanda’s demon is much more subtle and sinister, simply having Amanda commit petty crimes and seek out men for anonymous sex. What is the scariest about Amanda’s loss of control is that it becomes difficult to see just how much or how little the demon influences Amanda. Maybe Hobbs was onto something.

Graphic Content: Swine by Tyrone Finch and Alain Mauricet

 

If Joe Lansdale and Grady Hendrix has taught me anything about fiction, it’s that many out-there premises can work as a story as long as it pays attention to the fundamentals. By fundamentals, I mean plot and specifically character development. And even if those are lacking, within the horror genre, a reader can forgive a story if there are copious amounts of gore and/or surreal weirdness. Not to say that the graphic novel Swine by Tyrone Finch and Alain Mauricet is trying to heap buckets of blood into their work to disguise its shortcomings. Rather, the pair tell an insanely weird horror comedy tale that saws at the heartstrings.

Simply explaining this premise makes me feel like I’m a director explaining this to a room full of skeptical Hollywood execs. Ellis has just been released on parole for the murder of his wife, and Zoe, the victim’s sister, doesn’t feel justice has been served. In following Ellis, ready to get vengeance on behalf of her sister, she makes a crazy and horrifying discovery: her sister Becky was killed by pigs. Not just any pigs, these swine that Ellis is hunting are members of Legion, the demonic horde that Jesus had cast into pigs.Zoe joins Ellis on his quest and, along with a possessed talking pig that has broken away from Legion, they seek to slaughter the rest of Legion.

A tale like this could easily end up fodder for a Syfy Movie of the Week, but Finch’s story strikes the proper tone between comedy and horror. The pigs are set up as formidable, especially since each issue shows these immortal swine helping guide humanity into its most infamous disasters. Simon, the talking pig that serves as a divining rod for locating these pigs, offers comedy relief when needed and a dose of reality, as much as a talking pig can provide, when the situation is dramatic. Mauricet’s realistic comic illustrations are allowed to go wild as he depicts some pig animal hybrids that channel Wells’s The Island of Dr. Moreau. Writer Finch and artist Mauricet have pooled their efforts beautifully to create a bizarre tale that has horror, humor, and heart. You might laugh, you might gasp, but this story will definitely keep you interested.