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3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
My take on this book suffered due to rushed reading at bedtime. Added a 4th star.
This book made me a fan of Frank Quitely for life!! His artwork inspired me to dream bigger, to dream better. I'd vote for the guy!
of course the story aint all that bad either!
For me, though, this one was all about the art. It literally made me stop minutes at a time and take in each frame as the pages turned before me.
Loved it.
Great illustrations. Sad with lots of graphic violence.
This is the book for you if you thought you'd never tear up at Homeward Bound OR an early-90s military techno thriller.
Pretty uncomplicated chase story. My biggest gripe is that the woman doctor's actions are farfetched to the point of being unbelievable. The science fiction is very speculative and yet still plausible in a way. I really liked the art. I appreciated the unique and inventive panel layouts. I did not love the coloring – in particular I did not like the over-bright highlights.
A-MAZ-ING! Wow this sci-fi horror graphic novel has an amazing concept (weaponized pets), fantastic artwork, artistic layout and organization, with a quick, thrilling, suspenseful pace.
Warning DO NOT read if you have a weak stomach. I would normally consider myself desensitized to violence but this was pretty intense.
Warning DO NOT read if you are an animal lover and cannot deal with violence towards animals. I myself found it hard to read at times. The animal characters are so incredibly tragic, the reader is instantly invested.
Satisfying ending. Also love that the message was kept subtle, this in no way beats you over the head with the 'moral of the story' instead it leaves you room to think for yourself.
Really well done!
Warning DO NOT read if you have a weak stomach. I would normally consider myself desensitized to violence but this was pretty intense.
Warning DO NOT read if you are an animal lover and cannot deal with violence towards animals. I myself found it hard to read at times. The animal characters are so incredibly tragic, the reader is instantly invested.
Satisfying ending. Also love that the message was kept subtle, this in no way beats you over the head with the 'moral of the story' instead it leaves you room to think for yourself.
Really well done!
A very narrow edge that Morrison walked here. By fiercely making his point he had to illustrate its consequences. And it borderlines, constantly, with wish fulfillment. In fact maybe it plays consciously with it. It uses the cruelty of those who wish a certain future, who desire certain features, so it can backfire. But that is a dangerous game. A bold, brave one.
The metaphors are self-evident. In Princess Mononoke, a forest God rises and attacks the wrongdoers in the human society. It serves as a way to give voice to silent, hurting life that was being harmed by men. So ancient myths were used by Miyazaki in his narrative to make nature avenge itself.
But Grant Morrison achieved something brilliantly simple and direct. The threat itself, and the premise for his story, became the arms for those being hurt. It was humans that armed animals, modifying them for their purposes. Because this is an old idea, "if it can be done, it will be done" the way that Grant Morrison approached it was refreshing.
What strikes me as interesting is that the ethical dilemma, when it comes to humans, changes completely. Think of Universal Soldier (1992), where humans are used as biotech weapons. And I would argue that this story, with animals, is more compelling than one with humans not just because "animals cannot defend themselves" but precisely because we tend to be anthropocentric. We still have a vision of life where it's us and the earth, with all the animals given to us to take care of. And so, the moral questions like this one we always articulate them as: do we have the right (as keepers) to do this to what was given to us? We still long for the Eden, from which we were expelled, and in which "primitive cultures" still seem to be living. We see ourselves as the last creature created, put here to take care of it all.
When we finally see that we are part of the tree of life, and realize it fully, it will be unthinkable to do something to destroy it. And we will not separate ourselves from other animals, like we do now. Nor will we believe we are in the center of everything. And once we stop believing everything gravitates around us, it won't stop making sense. On the contrary. Like when we finally discovered where the Earth stood in the sky, how it moved.
The metaphors are self-evident. In Princess Mononoke, a forest God rises and attacks the wrongdoers in the human society. It serves as a way to give voice to silent, hurting life that was being harmed by men. So ancient myths were used by Miyazaki in his narrative to make nature avenge itself.
But Grant Morrison achieved something brilliantly simple and direct. The threat itself, and the premise for his story, became the arms for those being hurt. It was humans that armed animals, modifying them for their purposes. Because this is an old idea, "if it can be done, it will be done" the way that Grant Morrison approached it was refreshing.
What strikes me as interesting is that the ethical dilemma, when it comes to humans, changes completely. Think of Universal Soldier (1992), where humans are used as biotech weapons. And I would argue that this story, with animals, is more compelling than one with humans not just because "animals cannot defend themselves" but precisely because we tend to be anthropocentric. We still have a vision of life where it's us and the earth, with all the animals given to us to take care of. And so, the moral questions like this one we always articulate them as: do we have the right (as keepers) to do this to what was given to us? We still long for the Eden, from which we were expelled, and in which "primitive cultures" still seem to be living. We see ourselves as the last creature created, put here to take care of it all.
When we finally see that we are part of the tree of life, and realize it fully, it will be unthinkable to do something to destroy it. And we will not separate ourselves from other animals, like we do now. Nor will we believe we are in the center of everything. And once we stop believing everything gravitates around us, it won't stop making sense. On the contrary. Like when we finally discovered where the Earth stood in the sky, how it moved.
I've always had issues with Grant Morrison. The closest correlation I can draw is his writing feels like reading interviews with Smashing Pumpkins front man Billy Corgan: While you can acknowledge that the ideas come from a human being, because what are the alternatives, it's hard to completely accept. The Invisibles felt like a snake that never got tired of eating its own tail, and All-Star Superman felt like a joke so cryptic I couldn't decide if it didn't work or if I simply didn't understand it, like one of those infuriating New Yorker cartoons.
But We3 bypasses all that with the magic of sad animals. I don't know why it works, but the vulnerability of animals put in an extreme situation tugs at the heartstrings. This is the reason I can never recommend this book to my girlfriend, who makes a very loud noise of sadness when she reads even a little of a sad animal story on Reddit.
I think it's because the human brain is torn between empathy for a creature that at times has our emotions, but is also truly incapable of understanding the situations humans put them in.
A drama teacher I had in high school once observed that the truest tragedy is one where we know it will end poorly from the offset, and Morrison's stark storytelling in here is ominous from page one. We can intuit that absolutely nothing positive will come from three heavily armored, weapon-clad animals getting free.
Their strange pidgin English doesn't help matters, giving us a clearer understanding of just how lost they feel when dealing with their freedom, pinned between the fear of capture and the confusion of the real world, which has absolutely no place for them.
It makes for Morrison's most accessible work, because it doesn't feel like the creator's private joke shared only with himself.
But We3 bypasses all that with the magic of sad animals. I don't know why it works, but the vulnerability of animals put in an extreme situation tugs at the heartstrings. This is the reason I can never recommend this book to my girlfriend, who makes a very loud noise of sadness when she reads even a little of a sad animal story on Reddit.
I think it's because the human brain is torn between empathy for a creature that at times has our emotions, but is also truly incapable of understanding the situations humans put them in.
A drama teacher I had in high school once observed that the truest tragedy is one where we know it will end poorly from the offset, and Morrison's stark storytelling in here is ominous from page one. We can intuit that absolutely nothing positive will come from three heavily armored, weapon-clad animals getting free.
Their strange pidgin English doesn't help matters, giving us a clearer understanding of just how lost they feel when dealing with their freedom, pinned between the fear of capture and the confusion of the real world, which has absolutely no place for them.
It makes for Morrison's most accessible work, because it doesn't feel like the creator's private joke shared only with himself.