Thor is one of the few Marvel characters whose comics I’ll consistently seek out and try to stay on top of, but ever since the Jane Foster era ended, I haven’t been quite as invested as I’ve wanted to be. I liked Aaron’s concluding stories, and I liked the start of Cates’ run, even if it did start to lose me (I’ll finish it eventually, maybe). But it’s been a minute since a Thor comic felt properly epic and mythic. Thankfully, that’s exactly what Ewing brought here.
The villain is mostly one-note, admittedly, so the stakes don’t feel too lofty, despite the lofty size of the threat. But that doesn’t end up mattering too much because this is clearly an appetizer, a prelude to whatever larger scheme Ewing is planning. That’s not to say this volume is without tension, though. While it lacks stakes in the classic sense, Ewing does a lot of strong character work that gives Thor problems to solve that require more than the whack of a hammer, which I love. Seeing Thor flex some new muscles—he smiles now!—that isn’t his biceps are fun and gives the story some clever, refreshing personality. It’s a personality plays very well alongside Ewing’s take on Loki, too, which leans into the Trickster’s chaotic vibes with a smirk and wink. The sibling dynamic between Loki and Thor in the first few issues is a delight.
Cóccolo and Wilson’s art is superb—vibrant, expressive, and epic—and I really, really hope they both stick around for the long haul because the energy they bring pairs with—and elevates—Ewing’s scripts in the best ways. We’ll see how this series unfolds, but I’m very optimistic based on this introductory volume.
I might come back to this, since Nick Offerman’s narration on the audiobook is very good, but the subject matter of these essays got a little tiresome to me, after awhile. I admire Berry’s conviction, for sure, but it started to feel one-note, and it’s been months (at least) since I’ve gone back to it.
Honestly, this was pretty good! It feels like a lot of setups for the next volume(s), which means the momentum Ram V builds doesn't really go anywhere, but it's good momentum with some sharp hooks that make me optimistic about where it could go. The art is also excellent and lives up to the "Nocturne" subtitle more than the story itself does, at least so far. Lots of moody environments, strong lighting, striking coloring choices, and generally impressive layouts give the occasionally slower, tenser pages an ominous air that I very much vibe with. The backup story with Gordon is a nice bonus, even if it ends on a lackluster note. It's not uncommon for these backups to be pretty forgettable and frivolous, but I like how this one leans into the vibes of Ram V's story and gives it some additional dimensions.
Consider this a soft recommend, as my final sentiments of the collection will likely depend on how well the rest of the story does or doesn't capitalize on the potential. But I will say it's nice to feel some excitement about the setup for one of the main Batman comics.
Immaculately charming, even if its particular brand of whimsy and the overly quirky humor of the narrator didn’t always work for me. It starts off so well and gives you such a strong sense of tone, place, and character that I was instantly all in. Which is good, considering there’s a decent length of time in the middle that really doesn’t go anywhere, struggling to find the momentum in its plot. It doesn’t help that the stakes are often too loose to have much bite, especially with the “antagonists,” who are as one-note as they come.
And yet…I still had the loveliest time reading this. I might’ve been expecting something that wowed me a little more, but hey, I’m very happy to have spent the last two weeks reading this. It was like drinking a warm cup of tea in bed—in your favorite mug, obviously—while listening to someone tell you a story they’re making up as they go. It’s not exactly an exhilarating, or even all that memorable story, but it has such consistently enjoyable vibes, creative worldbuilding, and a rewarding character arc for our protagonist that I was more than content to sit back and let the book do its thing.
It was rough at first, but picked up at the end. Phase 2 of The High Republic has yet to do much for me, and I’m honestly of the mind that there simply isn’t enough substance in this flashback era to sustain this much material. And there’s also not enough to this comic to feel like a noteworthy addition to the Battle of Jedha audio drama, which felt properly epic and complete by itself. It has some cool beats and decent art, but little more.
I was really into this at first, continued to be in when the writing kept reiterating the same message ad nauseam, and I would’ve been in until the end if it actually had an ending. Instead, the repetitious narration droned on about guilt and grief and then ends abruptly without resolving anything, without finding some conclusion to its thoughts on change and death—it just ends. And it doesn’t even feel like an intentional abruptness, either. It bummed me out because I was really enjoying what Watters was doing, as blunt as it was. Using the four seasons as a metaphor is a cool enough idea, but turning those metaphors into lumbering, terrifying behemoths that leave death and destruction in their wake is not only cool but interesting, too. Especially with the art from Cabrol and Jackson, which is steeped in moody atmospheres that contrast beautifully with the sharp, unsettling colors the Seasons bring to the page when they make their fateful appearances.
I was leaning toward a 4-star rating for this until the final pages, which took the wind out of the story’s sails so suddenly that it nearly sunk the whole thing. There’s still something here, though, and the art alone was enough to make me glad I spent the time reading it. But man, with a little more time to breathe, it could’ve been so much better than it is.
First half is killer suspense and growing dread, while the second half is much more mechanical and makes some strange structural choices that I think were intended to make things less predictable but inadvertently bypass the stuff I was most interested in seeing more of. Still, a very fun read I would’ve torn through far quicker had other favors (i.e., I got COVID, lol) got in the way. As shaky (and occasionally pedestrian) as the writing can be, this absolutely scratched the itch I had for “scary spaceship vibes,” so consider it a 4-star read if you ever find yourself with a similar craving.
It’s the weakest of the three, just like the film it’s based on, but is still a total delight with some of the best soliloquies of the trilogy. Doescher really outdid himself with Vader’s internal monologues—it got me feeling some genuine swells of emotion while cooking dinner tonight. I’m devastated to learn that they didn’t produce audiobooks for the rest of the saga (except for The Force Awakens) because I really can’t imagine experiencing them in any other way. They’re perfect encapsulations of the joys of the films and the unique pleasures of Shakespeare’s plays, and as bummed as I am that there aren’t six more to listen to, I love that they exist at all.
The interludes that focus on the broader world still aren’t my favorite, as interesting as insightful as they, but the crux of the story with Dream and the Endless is really excellent stuff. I’ve experienced this story already in the audio dramatization (which I like a lot), but seeing it brought to life on the page is stunning. Jones’ art is a special standout, with spreads and details that give the pages a rich, classical style that I absolutely adore.
Amazing stuff—even the side-stories, which can feel frivolous in the moment, enrich the world so much that I can’t help but be impressed by it all.