This was great; an almost-but-not-quite classic Superman story, at least for me, but still consistently great. Priest and Pagulayan understand that Superman is at his best and most interesting not when he has to fight a powerful enemy, but get out of an impossible situation. When your character is as powerful as a god, it’s not enough to give them a punching bag—if you want real drama, give them a problem only they can solve. While part of me wishes the story in this book was a little tighter in some areas, as Priest introduces quite a few threads that don’t all hit as hard as others, each new element has a purpose and effectively pokes at different parts of Superman’s psyche. The supporting cast is equally as strong, and I like how Priest writes Lois and Luthor. The latter doesn’t come into the story until the latter half, and his presence doesn’t always feel necessary, but he acts as a terrific foil for Lois’ role in the plot, and Priest clearly understands what makes him such a compelling, chilling villain. Some of the other supporting characters are less impressive but no less interesting in the roles they play in Superman’s story. It’s a story of terrific ideas executed really well, and even when the plot gets shaky, there’s enough going on that works to keep it from collapsing.
Carlo Pagulayan’s artwork is also great, succeeding in the spectacle just as well as the characterizations and expressions. The substitute artists that come in occasionally, especially in the final issues, are fine, but the change in style doesn’t have much narrative purpose and isn’t as seamless as I’d like. It’s unfortunate that the road to the conclusion—where the plot is at its densest and most slippery—is ever-so-slightly affected by artwork that disrupts the momentum.
But yeah, I liked this a lot. It’s a story occupying a similar space to Tom King’s Up in the Sky, which is exactly where I want my Superman stories to be. The storytelling doesn’t quite stick all its landings, but the emotional, thematic, and dramatic underpinnings are strong enough to make the journey worthwhile. I’ll definitely be adding the collected edition to my shelf.
A solid read—it takes a tried-and-true premise and uses it to add some more shading to the Nameless. There’s not a lot of substance, but Mann’s characterizations are economical and capably get the job done, maybe more than the assignment required, honestly. It’s not all that memorable, but I enjoyed it for what it is.
The artwork might be the star, too. Mello’s style works well for the YA vibes, and the colors from Efremova and Righi give the pages a vibrancy I absolutely vibed with. The Marvel Star Wars runs have had middling to bad artwork for years now, so I can’t overstate how refreshing it is to see a Star Wars comic with even a shred of style and personality in the artwork.
I’ve had this book on my shelf for years, and while I can’t say that it floored me—it doesn’t quite have enough depth to stick with you, I don’t think—it has such a heart of gold that I couldn’t help but be won over by the end. The tone is all over the place, admittedly, and the first half of the book is laid out in a way I found hard to get into. But once things came together around that halfway point, I was quickly and thoroughly swept up in the unique brand of whimsy, history, and commentary that Gidwitz’s tender storytelling has to offer.
This started off on a high note, and, until the third act, felt like a notable improvement on the Convergence. There was some solid momentum, interesting political angles, and a fun conspiracy angle that I was eating up. But that third act—which is all one prolonged action sequence—is so drawn out that it loses the threads I was interested in. Kang’s writing is good but inconsistent, and the action scenes aren’t the strongest showcase for her talent. There’s very little sense of space to what should’ve been a bombastic climax, and without that frame of reference (both spatially and narratively), it bordered on monotonous more than a finale should.
It doesn’t help that the resolution is half-finished, presumably to leave some story threads for Path of Vengeance to wrap up. This entire phase of The High Republic has been more miss than hit for me precisely reasons like that. The overarching story is stretched far too thin, and the connective tissue is less a feature here than an obfuscation of what could’ve and probably should’ve been an interesting detour for the era. There’s nothing outright bad in this book or any of its peers, but it doesn’t utilize nearly enough of the potential sitting in its lap. I simply don’t feel like this prequel excursion paid off, and I wish this had been its own thing instead of a diversion from the stories started in Phase 1, which I very much enjoyed and felt far more cohesively told than anything in this follow-up
But there is fun to have, and seeing more Jedi of the era was ultimately enough to keep me reading (and I’m glad I did, I promise). I wish the characterizations and plotting were more consistent between this book and Convergence, but I do like what Kang does with most of the cast, especially the ones in supporting roles. There are some excellent pairings here that I enjoyed, and, to the finale’s credit, it does deliver some surprising payoffs.
There’s some solid stuff here—and the event is never better than when it leans into the playful pomp and circumstance—but it suffers from all the classic problems of a comic crossover, which dilutes the collection significantly. Part of the problem is with me, I acknowledge, considering most of the tie-ins here are less about the events of the Gala than they are continuations of the ongoing stories in their respective books. I can’t speak to the quality of those books, but the showings here range from fine to skippable, at best.
Artwork is pretty stellar across the board, though, and the costuming alone made this something I’m glad I dove into, even if the storytelling in the tie-ins didn’t do much for me. Mileage will vary, but there’s no denying the genius of turning this premise into a proper event.
I’ve long claimed Christian Wiman to be one of my favorite writers, if not for his incisive poetry, then for his prose, which gave voice to the dizzying emotions I used to feel toward Christianity and its beliefs. Reading this book—and enjoying it very much, despite going through it at an intentional snail’s pace—has made it clear that my emotions about spirituality are very different now than they were when I was a wide-eyed college student. His writing—especially in the memoir sections—is as affecting as ever, and I’m glad Wiman is writing books like this one, even (especially?) if they’re not entirely for me anymore.
It’s a bit scatterbrained as a collection, and if I hadn’t read both X of Swords and Hellfire Gala alongside it—which wasn’t nearly as difficult as it could’ve been—I might rate this slightly lower, since it essentially lacks a driving sense of momentum. But taken as the backbone of the broader story Hickman and company are creating, this is quite the achievement. It builds off the exciting rebranding of HoX/PoX with more thought and care than I’m used to seeing from a major relaunch. The soul of these stories is familiar, and doesn’t stray too far from what we usually associated with the X-Men, but the trappings around them are bold and big and fascinating to watch unfold. All of the art is good-to-great, as well, and I really appreciate how consistent the style of this era is even when drawn by an ever-growing collection of artists.
The anthology-adjacent structure works, too, and, even if it does lead to some inconsistent plotting on a broader scale, it gives Hickman time to dig into various characters and ideas in ways I often found very refreshing. Are there a few too many issues that don’t amount to much independently or collectively? I think so, but even the “filler” here—although I loathe that word—is rarely uninteresting. My biggest complaint is probably how rushed the ending feels. After 20 issues (and more, if you include the crossovers), Hickman’s time as the lead ends abruptly. It feels like we’re still in the early stage of this story, and seeing its architect step aside from the driver seat this early is a little disappointing. Admittedly, he had spent several years on the book by the time he got here, so I don’t begrudge the decision, especially considering how definitive an identity he created. I can’t say I expected to find myself this into a mildly convoluted X-Men saga, but I’m glad to be here! I’m eager to see if the next phase of stories keep their hooks in me the way this one did.
I’m surprised by how much I enjoyed this, as dizzying as it can often feel. Marvel’s crossover events rarely hit for me, too, but this one benefits from a few key decisions that set it up for success, instead of making it feel like a half-hearted cash grab. For example, the event is singularly focused on the X-Men lines, and the various writers across those books are all contributing to what is essentially the same, sequential story. Maybe it’s the way this collection is organized, but it seems like there’s only one issue here that doesn’t naturally segue out of and into the next. It gives the broader story a steady, easy to follow momentum, which is essential when the plot itself is as dense and (for me, at least) incomprehensible as this one is.
Incomprehensible is probably too strong a word, admittedly, but I can’t say I ever felt like I had a firm grasp of the major players, their backstories, and why the threat was as lofty as it felt. To its credit, the stakes do feel lofty, and the mechanics of the plot are simple enough to keep things moving so even when I felt lost amidst the very large cast of characters, I was rarely disinterested. There are areas of the plot that could’ve been tightened up a bit more—the rules of the tournament are intentionally confusing in ways that grew a little tired and repetitive, for example—but it’s still a testament to the organization of the event that it comes off as cohesively as it does. It’s a fun, intense, even violent event comic with big stakes and consistently good-to-great artwork—can’t ask for much more from something like this.
Man, what a bummer. I quite enjoyed the first story—both because I’m a sucker for an audio drama and because it was genre comfort food—but the sequel barely did anything for me. It’s not even that long of a listen, but I had to force myself back to it because the storytelling was so inert. I like Beacham’s ideas and think he has a really solid grasp of genre, but I also think his imagination isn’t deep or original enough to sustain a trilogy. I get it; the middle of a story is challenging, and I want to be forgiving of how much meandering, idle place-setting this does for what I imagine will be the proper finale. But come on, you gotta give me something! There’s no real character growth, no sense of tension, and even the character deaths that should’ve been notable—because they were cool characters in the last one!—lack any bite because of how nonchalant and borderline disinterested the execution was.
The production quality remains solid, even if there are some questionable choices made (i.e., for the love of god I do not make me listen to kissing sounds), and the voice cast is decent to actually quite good. Special shoutout to Ralph Ineson, who chews through every line with more gusto and tonal self-awareness than the character deserves. I’ll probably show up for Chapter 3, despite it all, because the “twist” at the end—which was so obvious for so long I was just glad to have it over with, honestly—is cool enough in theory that I want to see if they’ll actually commit to it.