billyjepma's reviews
608 reviews

Another solid read in a consistently solid series of spin-offs. It’s a mostly seamless hand-off from Yee to Ribay, so anyone worried that this outing wouldn’t have the same thematic foundations and characterizations can rest easy. This one doesn’t have the same oomph as the initial Kyoshi duology but seems to share common ground with the Yangchen books. Ribay’s commentary on colonialism is notably sharp, which is not a new subject for the Avatar series to explore but takes a far fuller, more central role here than ever. I appreciate how Ribay showcases the dangers of invading a world that doesn’t belong to you, and no matter how good the intentions you have going in, you’re still an invader. Placing Roku in that role—at least on some level—is a wise move, and Ribay does an excellent job of showing how even a hero with good intentions can still do more harm than good when inserting themselves into a world that doesn’t belong to them. Good stuff! 

The overall plotting and writing are very comfortably YA, for better and otherwise, which means I was never uninterested but did find myself wishing for a softer touch at times, specifically with the character work. Some of the tensions suffer from prequelitis, too, since the animated series told us exactly how and when certain events in Roku and Sozin’s relationship play out. It lessens the thorniness of their fraying friendship, and I don’t quite think Roku’s characterization is strong enough to convince me that he’s ignorant of the path his friend is already going down. Still, the structure is rock-solid, even if the execution is a little loose, and I’m eager to see where Ribay takes it in the next book. This gets 3.5 stars from me! 

An almost-amazing capstone to Hickman’s time with the Krakoa era. The moment that hit really hit and rekindled some of the thrills and piercing thematics that made HoX/PoX so innovative. While it certainly seems like Hickman had even grander ideas for the X-Men, I think he bows out on the best terms we can expect, considering how reticent Marvel probably was to let his original vision fully play out. He closes the book on most of the ideas he introduced, gives them some new dimensions for future writers to explore, and leaves the story in a place that’s not quite a new status quo but certainly feels like a different tone than the series has had up to this point. Things are more pessimistic now, less idealistic—the cracks in the mutant paradise are starting to show. I’ll confess to wishing this “ending” had a firmer period at the end of it, but I’m no less fascinated with this era of the X-Men than I was beforehand and will be continuing to see it through (as long as I don’t get too distracted). 

The artists make the otherwise quick but dense story feel like a proper event, too. Any weight I felt was missing from the plot was more than remedied with the scale of the art, which is no minor thing, considering there are multiple artists involved. The transition between styles is mostly seamless, though, with the different approaches helping accentuate the different dramatic beats. Like the rest of the book, the execution isn’t perfect, but it’s well above what it could’ve been and carried more than enough dramatic heft to outclass most of the other superhero books on shelves.

I knew from the opening chapter that this would be one of the best books I'd read this year, and every page after only reinforced that first impression. Harper's writing is lean and mean, always striking the perfect balance of propulsive tension and patient intrigue. It keeps the suspense at a steady tempo that ensures we're always on the edge of a dreadful twist of the knife, which makes for a helluva reading experience. If it weren't as dire and nihilistic a story as it is, I would've torn through it in a weekend. I'm glad I forced myself to take my time with it, though, because reading a couple of chapters a night made it feel like I was tuning into a prestige HBO drama. 

Despite the very modern and snappy writing, I felt like Harper's storytelling evoked a similar sensibility to the late and great Cormac McCarthy, as both writers display an innate understanding of the rotted soul of the country and a willingness to wade into its depths. There are layers upon layers of corruption and grimy morality at play in these pages, but it never feels like Harper is on a soapbox. His book is sharper than that and far too interested in the interiors of its characters to let anyone—his readers included—off the hook with an easy-to-digest takeaway. Instead, I finished it with a pit in my stomach and something resembling either rage or resignation simmering in my head. And that's the point; nothing here will surprise people who pay attention to the world around them. But the insights it provides are needle-sharp, forcing us to look into the ugliest parts of that world, see how an army of interconnected systems keeps its blackened heart pumping, and then force us to sit with the realization that we will likely never defeat it. It's not a hopeless book—Harper is very good at keeping his characters and, by tension, his audience aware of their culpability and/or responsibility—but it is a deeply pessimistic one. 

Anyway, I adored this book and will spend the rest of the year stewing on it. It's a harsh read but a crucial one, I'd argue, if not for its scathing honesty about the state of our culture, then for the reminder that the role we play in it is still important, regardless of how insignificant it feels.

As a lover of the movie adaptation and Miyazaki's storytelling, I've been excited and daunted to dive into the original manga for Nausicaä. I tore through the first few chapters, which cover the events from the film, and then deliberately took my time with the latter ones so I could fully absorb the dense, always-growing world-building and characterizations. It can be overwhelming, admittedly, and I can't help but feel that Miyazaki might've benefited from scaling the cast down ever so slightly since the number of characters is hard to keep track of. However, the sheer creativity and lush, decadent imagination on display in every panel and page is just dizzying—a true feat of narrative and artwork that I got thoroughly lost in.

The story is so big, so mythic, and deals with lofty topics around religion, war, environmentalism, fanaticism, and many more. As dizzying as it can feel, Miyazaki's integration of theme into the story feels wholly organic. You can see his vision pulsing as he gets further into the saga he's telling, and the orchestrated chaos he wields in the enormous war sequences is second to none. I love how his artwork is so fluid, too, constantly evolving to match the scale of the scene he's drawing. His action is fast, frantic, and shocking in its bloodshed—seriously, the violence is brutal in ways I was not expecting—but he balances it out with meditative moments of reflection that allow his characters to wrestle with their role(s) in the world around them. Some of the busier panels are hard to decipher, yet even those seem intentional in how they blur the line between the figures on the page and the ensuing effects of their violence—smoke, blood, and bodies pressed so close together you can't tell where one starts and the other ends.

And, of course, there are gorgeous images aplenty, especially with all the aerial combat and flight that Miyazaki is so fond of. I lost track of how often I called my spouse over to show her a panel of an airship disappearing into the cloud or the wind effects flying off of Nausicaä's glider as she whirls through the open air. This is my first real experience with manga, which seems like the equivalent of having Lawrence of Arabia be the first movie you ever watch. It is a true stunner that I feel very lucky to have another 500+ pages to look forward to.

I’m really enjoying this soft relaunch. It’s got a ton of superhero derring-do, it focuses on cool characters I’m only casually familiar with (seeing Cyclops kick ass rules so hard; I finally get why everyone loves the guy), and the story is told in a smartly serialized format that lets the team go in one-and-done missions while still fleshing out the world and bigger story around them. It’s nothing groundbreaking or iterative as Hickman’s run was, but it uses everything he did as a killer springboard. 

The art from Larraz is the not-so-secret star, too. His style lends itself perfectly to the classic superheroism Duggan’s scripts are enjoying. When Larraz does take a break from the art, Garcia’s colors make for an easy transition by ensuring the book maintains its visual identity. Really great, really enjoyable stuff! 

The continued emphasis on ensemble casts, specifically with characters I have little to no history with, is still hampering my general investment in this odyssey. But I also think that’s what makes it feel so fresh and exciting. It’s not often I find myself waist-deep in a series where it genuinely feels like anything can happen, and the density of the worldbuilding only reinforces how epic the scope of the whole thing is. I might not be resonating with the character-to-character dynamics the way I’d usually look for, but I am resonating with the grandiosity at play. Duggan takes the reins from Hickman without missing a beat, either. This “main” series gets off to a great start, keeps things exciting, establishes the status quo for this new team of heroes, and starts planting the seeds for what I assume will be the narrative undercurrent moving forward. It’s good stuff, and I’m eager to keep going, maybe more so than I was with Hickman’s stuff, which, as excellent as it is, could be difficult to parse through at times. 

Larraz’s artwork is perfect for the book, as well, capturing all the iconography and striking gravitas I want from my larger-than-life heroes. The stupendous coloring and inks elevate it further and give the pages a heft and vibrancy I’m very much vibing with.

After a generally blasé opinion toward most of this second phase for The High Republic, I’m glad it ended on its best note. This was a very solid read—good pacing, uncomfortable insight into what radicalizes a person, and a satisfying conclusion for the Path of the Open Hand storyline, which has always been the most intriguingly thorny aspect of this phase. It can feel a little bloated and probably would’ve benefited from slightly fewer characters since the core protagonists might’ve benefited from more of the spotlight. But Scott manages the ensemble well, finds a good tempo between the various POVs, and structures the chapters in a way that kept me eager for the next.

I still don’t love all of his writing choices, but his prose work continues to land much better for me than his comics do, a trend I’m glad continued here. Some of the characterizations are a bit trite, but only briefly annoying, thankfully, as the brisk pacing keeps things moving, so any moment that didn’t work for me was quickly replaced by one that did. I’m still not convinced that this phase of The High Republic needed the volume of material it got, especially since all the best stuff—and the stuff that seems most linked to the main timeline—is in these YA books. But I’m glad I stuck with it, especially with the development this particular book added to the Path. The portrayal of religious radicalism is painfully realistic, and both books—this one in particular—capture the mentality that allows such radicalization to fester and grow roots. I’m interested to see how/if we see these threads continue in the next Phase, but even if it’s minimal, these two YA books stand as a solid duology for the series.  

Okay, Ram V is really cooking with something now. The slow burn of the Gotham Nocturne story hasn't led to the most exciting read, but the thematic undertones and broader parallels Ram has been creating start to come into clearer focus in this outing, and the results are very, very promising. I still wish the art were more consistent issue-to-issue, but at least this series has maintained a solid baseline of quality. The most significant departure comes from Francavilla's turn at bat near the end, which is a jarring shift in art style that still works because I've always liked how expressive and dramatic his work is.

I've been waiting and hoping that Ram V had something in mind for the Orghams, and again, I'm starting to see what he's building with them and their role in Batman and Gotham's story. It's not the most original approach, yet the parallels pack a wallop and have the potential to strike a real nerve if the series can keep up the momentum. I'm also a sucker for a Batman book that isn't afraid to get introspective and interrogative toward Batman, his motivations, his role in Gotham, and the fragile nature of the things that hold him together. We'll see how Ram V's story unfolds in the next chapters, but I'm very into the concepts he's been laying down and will be eager to see where they go next.

I also continue to love the series' backup stories, with this collection having some of the best so far. Unlike other books in DC's catalog, the backups are arguably essential to the main story the series is crafting. They enrich supporting characters, add dimensions to backstories, and generally help the story Ram V is bringing us into feel like a proper odyssey.

I wanted a breezy beach read with an air of adventure, and this fit the bill perfectly. I described it to my spouse as a mixture of Netflix's Bridgerton and the obvious comparison of Indiana Jones. It's not as "sexy" as the former or as gritty as the latter, but it occupies a pleasant, socially aware, and easily accessible spot between them. Mileage will vary based on how willing you are (or aren't) to roll with the book's various cliches and genre dabbling, but it rarely overstayed its welcome in any one spot, and I found the cliches to be more charming than annoying in most cases. I can't say it's a book that will stick with me, but considering I finished this in what ultimately amounted to two (and a half) sittings, I clearly had fun with it!