John Martz

Revolver

I met Salgood Sam (aka Max Douglas) several weeks ago at the Toronto Comic-Con and I picked up a copy of his new personal anthology Revolver.

It’s a collection of small personal pieces, that while not entirely related, do have some thematic glue holding them together.  All the mini stories are told from the perspective of lonely characters reflecting on their place in the world.  But it doesn’t have that “hey, this story is just like the previous one!” effect. The variations on the way these stories are told and illustrated are enough to keep it from being repetitive.  Even stylistically, at first glance, the book appears to be done by a variety of different artists.

If the book has one flaw (at least from this comic-reader’s perspective) it’s that it seems to be consciously sad—not sad in the pretentiously-dark-like-teenage-poetry way (save, maybe, for the line “...fleeting demons like shadows I can’t quite see"), but just short enough of joy to be noticeable.

There are, however, two small pieces that shine because of their humour.  The first is an illustrated retelling of a dream in which the dreamer ends up eating candy on a strange planet with springy sunglasses-wearing aliens.  The second chronicles a maturing embryo reacting to its host mother’s indulgences, and fittingly acts as the final story in the book.

Max is clearly someone who is passionate about what he does, and is one of those people who tries to blur the lines between comics and literature (although these pieces are decidedly more poetic than prosaic).  The artwork is wonderful and has a lively loose feel to it that makes it easy to miss how well planned and creative the layout of the panels are.  Revolver is a refreshing change of pace from the usual batch of men in tights and frogs with boners.  Pick it up if you get the chance, or pop over to Max’s site and order it directly.  So says the robot.