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Full disclosure time: I love Virgin Comics, and I write about them a lot on this livejournal, which is why, I would assume, somebody at Virgin decided to very generously send me some free swag, including shiny copies of the latest Snakewoman and Voodoo Child issues. As I am a Snakewoman fan and had been mulling over trying Voodoo Child solely because yes I do like Nicholas Cage, this made my day. And of course, I would be remiss if I didn't return the favor and write some comicly reviews here in exchange for my swag.
Second full disclosure time: My package from Virgin arrived two weeks ago. So why has it taken me so long to write this long-overdue blog post? Well, because of Snakewoman. I love this series, but it is a very difficult series for me to write about in a coherent fashion. Snakewoman is a challenging comic: challenging to read, challenging to digest, and definitely challenging to review on a blog. I actually have two finished-but-never-posted Snakewoman entries on my harddrive already. I didn't post them because they were too rambling and incoherent. But I figured that if I was ever going to make a Snakewoman post on this blog, now is the time. I've been struggling to write this post for over two weeks, but eventually I just gotta do it, right?
So here goes. Snakewoman is probably the most difficult and challenging comic that I have sitting in my longbox right now. It's a dark, raw, and brutal story. It's thematically heavy. And it takes the reader into some very, very bad places. Snakewoman is a series about sex, and the intersection of sex and power, sex and control over others, sex and violence, and lust and violence. Clearly this is not a comic written to make you feel comfortable or happy. It is a comic that confronts some very raw and nasty truths about life, and in that sense, as with all great horror stories, it is often a very uncomfortable comic to read. And yes, I would apply the term "horror" to this series, although the real horror in Snakewoman isn't supernatural at all. Like in the best Junji Ito horror manga, Snakewoman's most disturbing moments result when we see the ugly, evil, uninhibited manifestations of purely human nature. People are the monsters in Snakewoman, rather than the titular snakewoman herself.
Snakewoman is the story of Jessica Peterson, a normal twenty-something woman who discovers (or rather, through a creepy process, is forced to realize) that she is the reincarnation of a vengeful Naga spirit, and that she is now driven to hunt down and kill the 68 men who wronged her in her past life. That may sound like a simple setup, but actually, the main story is a lot more twisty and complicated than that. But I don't want to give away too many spoilers here.
Thematically, Snakewoman is similar to Devi. These are both stories about women who end up embroiled in the middle of a battle between good and evil against their will; these are both stories about women whose bodily and mental integrity are horrifically violated due to the result of decisions made by a group of men of questionable morals. Both series begin when the heroine is attacked, rendered helpless, and granted superpowers against her will. And both series then continue to tell the story of these woman fighting back against their oppressors, re-asserting their independence and dignity, and then seriously kicking the collective ass of the patriarchy. To make a further comparison, the setup of both Snakewoman and Devi reminds me very strongly of the story told in Buffy season 7, about the origins of the Slayer. Buffy at least went so far as to label what happened to the first Slayer as a rape. Pretty much the exact same thing happens to Tara in Devi and Jessica in Snakewoman, and although the word "rape" is never used, the implications are clearly there. (There is an actual sexual rape in Snakewoman's backstory too, in addition to the mind-rape that Jessica endures when her powers are awakened.) But, as with Buffy, there is a very strong textual condemnation of these methods in both Devi and Snakewoman. And again, as what happened in the final episode of Buffy, the triumphant moment in both Devi and Snakewoman comes when the heroines reject the conditions laid out by men and take their powers - and their destinies - into their own hands.
In short, whether it was intentional or not, it is very, very easy to read Snakewoman as a feminist parable about the struggle of the patriarchy (here literally represented by a conspiracy of nasty evil old men) to control a woman's body, sexuality, and free will. And guess how well that works out for them? Here's a spoiler: not very well.
As a feminist text, however, Snakewoman has some serious failings. For one thing, it doesn't pass the the Bechdel Test until, oh, issue #11 or so. But the funny thing is... It doesn't pass a gender-reversed version of the Bechdel test either. There are more men than women in this story, but all the men ever think about or talk about is women. Specifically, they think and talk a lot about Jessica. The purpose of the Bechdel test is to demonstrate that sexist writing usually portrays women as having their lives completely revolve around men. And that's true in Snakewoman. But the reverse is also true, too: The lives of the male characters completely revolve around Jessica. Literally. She is the center of the universe to the 68 men whom she is destined to kill. And that makes for some very, very weird gender and sexual dynamics in the story.
And Snakewoman is a comic uniquely obsessed with sex and the human body. Not just female sexuality, either; would you believe me if I told you that one of the biggest plot reveals in the first story arc revolves around some guy's erectile dysfunction? Snakewoman's narrative keeps returning to the bodies and sexualities of its characters, and it is, believe it or not, quite balanced in its obsession with sex. It is not just Jessica and her friend Jin's bodies that are the focus of the narrative; the story also lingers over the bodies and sexual habits of the male characters as well, and by "lingers" I mean "exposes in graphic and humiliating detail, and often uses to fuel plot points." This is a series as much obsessed with the sexual habits and failings of its male characters as it is with the sexual behavior of the women. This isn't exactly the dreaded "equal opportunity exploitation," though, because there's very little here that's exploitative in the first place. The sexuality of Snakewoman is so raw that it's not anywhere close to titillating or exciting.
The first ten issues of Snakewoman pretty much tell a complete, standalone story. The eleventh chronological issue actually relaunches as the first issue of a new series, Snakewoman: Tales of the Snake Charmer. I rather like the way that Virgin does this with most of their series, because it feels like watching a mostly self-contained series of a TV show: of course there's a continous story, but the end of each "season" provides a satisfying stopping point, and the beginning of the new season/arc is a good place for new readers to jump in.
Oh, and the best part of the new Snake Charmer series? Sari, the titular Snake Charmer herself.
Only three issues and I love her already.
Moving on to the second topic of the evening now: Voodoo Child. Oh man, this comic is fun. Dark and scary and creepy, of course, considering that the protagonist is an teenaged zombie... But still fun. Like Devi, Voodoo Child is rarity among rarities, a superhero comic set in a world in which "white" is not a default skin tone. But while Devi is set in a fictional Indian city, Voodoo Child's stage is a bit closer to home, in New Orleans. Also, a significant portion of this comic is written in decidedly non-"standard" English, which I'm sure will make the heads of some readers explode, although it makes the linguistic nerd within me all giddy with delight.*
*Caveat: I hate the term "standard English." But that is a rant for another day.
Issue 4. My favorite cover so far.
If Snakewoman is about exploring our endless fascination with sex, then Voodoo Child is just as much about our endless obsession with race. Voodoo Child is here to remind us of what so many of us are trying to ignore and forget as time passes after Hurricane Katrina. We think of Katrina as something that happened "last year"; but for the people still living in FEMA trailers, like quite a few of the characters in Voodoo Child, it's a different story. Katrina exposed so much of the ugly raw racism that we've tried so hard for so long to pretend just doesn't exist anymore; and in the wake of Katrina, we collectively started to forget again; but the characters in Voodoo Child don't have the privilege of forgetting, because nobody will let them forget about their race for an instant. Katrina and all of its aftermath permeates the pages of Voodoo Child; as previously mentioned, characters live in trailers, make jokes about Bush and Brown and Nagin, mistrust government authority (with damn good reason), and talk, in frank and brutal dialogue, about race.
With only three issues to read so far, I can't write as much or as in-depth about Voodoo Child as I would like to be here, but I will say this: I like this series a lot. Mostly that's because I like the characters. Gabriel, the titular teenage zombie, is made of awesome. Like any idealistic and angry youth, Gabriel wants to be a hero, but he just keeps making bad decisions. (Because, you know, teenager.) Still, he's a very likeable and sympathetic hero. And there's a great supporting cast too: there's a kickass lady detective, a snarky pastor, and Gabriel's enigmatic mentor, among others. And there's a complex and multilayered story going on, a combination of political intrigue, murder mystery, and Spawn-esque supernatural feuding. The plot moves quickly, there are lots of twists and turns and mini-cliffhangers, and I'm left very much wanting more right now.
Oh, and one last thing. It's always nice to read a comic written by someone who has obviously put a lot of time and effort into researching his or her subject matter. Apparently Mike Carey really knows his stuff, and it shows through in the comic. Yes, the religious elements are portrayed accurately and treated respectfully. (Or maybe just respectfully, because I don't know how "accurate" a writer can be when giant glowing-eyed monsters are involved.) Yes, the political snark that the characters espouse sounds authentic to this American's ears; and yes, everything from the FEMA trailers to the reduced bus routes to the church-run food relief feels completely authentic.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. Once again, I owe a huge thank-you to Virgin for sending me copies of Voodoo Child and Snakewoman to review. Thanks!
Edited on 6/17/08 to add: My thoughts about the ending of Snake Woman, here. Well, I liked it until I got to the actual ending. Sigh.
Second full disclosure time: My package from Virgin arrived two weeks ago. So why has it taken me so long to write this long-overdue blog post? Well, because of Snakewoman. I love this series, but it is a very difficult series for me to write about in a coherent fashion. Snakewoman is a challenging comic: challenging to read, challenging to digest, and definitely challenging to review on a blog. I actually have two finished-but-never-posted Snakewoman entries on my harddrive already. I didn't post them because they were too rambling and incoherent. But I figured that if I was ever going to make a Snakewoman post on this blog, now is the time. I've been struggling to write this post for over two weeks, but eventually I just gotta do it, right?
So here goes. Snakewoman is probably the most difficult and challenging comic that I have sitting in my longbox right now. It's a dark, raw, and brutal story. It's thematically heavy. And it takes the reader into some very, very bad places. Snakewoman is a series about sex, and the intersection of sex and power, sex and control over others, sex and violence, and lust and violence. Clearly this is not a comic written to make you feel comfortable or happy. It is a comic that confronts some very raw and nasty truths about life, and in that sense, as with all great horror stories, it is often a very uncomfortable comic to read. And yes, I would apply the term "horror" to this series, although the real horror in Snakewoman isn't supernatural at all. Like in the best Junji Ito horror manga, Snakewoman's most disturbing moments result when we see the ugly, evil, uninhibited manifestations of purely human nature. People are the monsters in Snakewoman, rather than the titular snakewoman herself.
Snakewoman is the story of Jessica Peterson, a normal twenty-something woman who discovers (or rather, through a creepy process, is forced to realize) that she is the reincarnation of a vengeful Naga spirit, and that she is now driven to hunt down and kill the 68 men who wronged her in her past life. That may sound like a simple setup, but actually, the main story is a lot more twisty and complicated than that. But I don't want to give away too many spoilers here.
Thematically, Snakewoman is similar to Devi. These are both stories about women who end up embroiled in the middle of a battle between good and evil against their will; these are both stories about women whose bodily and mental integrity are horrifically violated due to the result of decisions made by a group of men of questionable morals. Both series begin when the heroine is attacked, rendered helpless, and granted superpowers against her will. And both series then continue to tell the story of these woman fighting back against their oppressors, re-asserting their independence and dignity, and then seriously kicking the collective ass of the patriarchy. To make a further comparison, the setup of both Snakewoman and Devi reminds me very strongly of the story told in Buffy season 7, about the origins of the Slayer. Buffy at least went so far as to label what happened to the first Slayer as a rape. Pretty much the exact same thing happens to Tara in Devi and Jessica in Snakewoman, and although the word "rape" is never used, the implications are clearly there. (There is an actual sexual rape in Snakewoman's backstory too, in addition to the mind-rape that Jessica endures when her powers are awakened.) But, as with Buffy, there is a very strong textual condemnation of these methods in both Devi and Snakewoman. And again, as what happened in the final episode of Buffy, the triumphant moment in both Devi and Snakewoman comes when the heroines reject the conditions laid out by men and take their powers - and their destinies - into their own hands.
In short, whether it was intentional or not, it is very, very easy to read Snakewoman as a feminist parable about the struggle of the patriarchy (here literally represented by a conspiracy of nasty evil old men) to control a woman's body, sexuality, and free will. And guess how well that works out for them? Here's a spoiler: not very well.
As a feminist text, however, Snakewoman has some serious failings. For one thing, it doesn't pass the the Bechdel Test until, oh, issue #11 or so. But the funny thing is... It doesn't pass a gender-reversed version of the Bechdel test either. There are more men than women in this story, but all the men ever think about or talk about is women. Specifically, they think and talk a lot about Jessica. The purpose of the Bechdel test is to demonstrate that sexist writing usually portrays women as having their lives completely revolve around men. And that's true in Snakewoman. But the reverse is also true, too: The lives of the male characters completely revolve around Jessica. Literally. She is the center of the universe to the 68 men whom she is destined to kill. And that makes for some very, very weird gender and sexual dynamics in the story.
And Snakewoman is a comic uniquely obsessed with sex and the human body. Not just female sexuality, either; would you believe me if I told you that one of the biggest plot reveals in the first story arc revolves around some guy's erectile dysfunction? Snakewoman's narrative keeps returning to the bodies and sexualities of its characters, and it is, believe it or not, quite balanced in its obsession with sex. It is not just Jessica and her friend Jin's bodies that are the focus of the narrative; the story also lingers over the bodies and sexual habits of the male characters as well, and by "lingers" I mean "exposes in graphic and humiliating detail, and often uses to fuel plot points." This is a series as much obsessed with the sexual habits and failings of its male characters as it is with the sexual behavior of the women. This isn't exactly the dreaded "equal opportunity exploitation," though, because there's very little here that's exploitative in the first place. The sexuality of Snakewoman is so raw that it's not anywhere close to titillating or exciting.
The first ten issues of Snakewoman pretty much tell a complete, standalone story. The eleventh chronological issue actually relaunches as the first issue of a new series, Snakewoman: Tales of the Snake Charmer. I rather like the way that Virgin does this with most of their series, because it feels like watching a mostly self-contained series of a TV show: of course there's a continous story, but the end of each "season" provides a satisfying stopping point, and the beginning of the new season/arc is a good place for new readers to jump in.
Oh, and the best part of the new Snake Charmer series? Sari, the titular Snake Charmer herself.
Only three issues and I love her already.
Moving on to the second topic of the evening now: Voodoo Child. Oh man, this comic is fun. Dark and scary and creepy, of course, considering that the protagonist is an teenaged zombie... But still fun. Like Devi, Voodoo Child is rarity among rarities, a superhero comic set in a world in which "white" is not a default skin tone. But while Devi is set in a fictional Indian city, Voodoo Child's stage is a bit closer to home, in New Orleans. Also, a significant portion of this comic is written in decidedly non-"standard" English, which I'm sure will make the heads of some readers explode, although it makes the linguistic nerd within me all giddy with delight.*
*Caveat: I hate the term "standard English." But that is a rant for another day.
Issue 4. My favorite cover so far.
If Snakewoman is about exploring our endless fascination with sex, then Voodoo Child is just as much about our endless obsession with race. Voodoo Child is here to remind us of what so many of us are trying to ignore and forget as time passes after Hurricane Katrina. We think of Katrina as something that happened "last year"; but for the people still living in FEMA trailers, like quite a few of the characters in Voodoo Child, it's a different story. Katrina exposed so much of the ugly raw racism that we've tried so hard for so long to pretend just doesn't exist anymore; and in the wake of Katrina, we collectively started to forget again; but the characters in Voodoo Child don't have the privilege of forgetting, because nobody will let them forget about their race for an instant. Katrina and all of its aftermath permeates the pages of Voodoo Child; as previously mentioned, characters live in trailers, make jokes about Bush and Brown and Nagin, mistrust government authority (with damn good reason), and talk, in frank and brutal dialogue, about race.
With only three issues to read so far, I can't write as much or as in-depth about Voodoo Child as I would like to be here, but I will say this: I like this series a lot. Mostly that's because I like the characters. Gabriel, the titular teenage zombie, is made of awesome. Like any idealistic and angry youth, Gabriel wants to be a hero, but he just keeps making bad decisions. (Because, you know, teenager.) Still, he's a very likeable and sympathetic hero. And there's a great supporting cast too: there's a kickass lady detective, a snarky pastor, and Gabriel's enigmatic mentor, among others. And there's a complex and multilayered story going on, a combination of political intrigue, murder mystery, and Spawn-esque supernatural feuding. The plot moves quickly, there are lots of twists and turns and mini-cliffhangers, and I'm left very much wanting more right now.
Oh, and one last thing. It's always nice to read a comic written by someone who has obviously put a lot of time and effort into researching his or her subject matter. Apparently Mike Carey really knows his stuff, and it shows through in the comic. Yes, the religious elements are portrayed accurately and treated respectfully. (Or maybe just respectfully, because I don't know how "accurate" a writer can be when giant glowing-eyed monsters are involved.) Yes, the political snark that the characters espouse sounds authentic to this American's ears; and yes, everything from the FEMA trailers to the reduced bus routes to the church-run food relief feels completely authentic.
Okay, that's enough for tonight. Once again, I owe a huge thank-you to Virgin for sending me copies of Voodoo Child and Snakewoman to review. Thanks!
Edited on 6/17/08 to add: My thoughts about the ending of Snake Woman, here. Well, I liked it until I got to the actual ending. Sigh.
Have a Nice Dream