Of the dozen or so graphic novel titles I have consumed in
the last few weeks like a plague of locusts on wheat (or something), Marvel 1602 was actually my favorite,
even though I am not really a reader of Marvel and was unfamiliar with quite a
few of the superheroes in this story. I
thought it was intriguing, well-written, and a very fun idea to ponder. It wasn’t perfect, but it sustained my
interest.
I was vaguely familiar with the Fantastic Four, Nick Fury,
Spiderman, Daredevil, the Black Widow, Thor, and Captain America, but I had no
familiarity whatsoever with Doctor Strange, Count Otto von Doom (what a
name!?!), and I can’t place the Grand Inquisitor (aka Magneto’s) disciples,
Sister Wanda and Petros. However, at one
time I was quite up on the X-Men so I expect I knew their story best (although—no
Wolverine?!?!?! Are you crazy?!?!). Certainly it must have been difficult enough
to weave in all the characters mentioned as well as Queen Elizabeth and King
James (James has never been portrayed as a good king—like John, he gets all the
stick). So I can accept who Gaiman
decides to exclude from Marvel 1602.
It is a fabulous idea because he’s judged the setting
correctly. The English court is always
going to be a hotbed of espionage and manoeuvring, and to include within this
the legend of Virginia Dare, the first white person born in America (that we
know of) and in so doing bring in the mystery of Roanoke, one of my pet
subjects, plus include a Voltaire-esque Inquisition, was nothing short of
inspired. To me, the whole upset in time
could be completely eliminated and I would have been more than happy. Frankly, I hated the brain-man on the moon
looking down and giving advice—even if this is part of the Marvel universe, it
moved me not at all. I suppose there
would have been no way for Doctor Strange to figure out what was going on
otherwise, but I found this particular re-set button annoying. The business with Captain America was
intriguing, especially since I had gotten halfway through the graphic novel
about to lambast Gaiman for his stereotypical depiction of the Lumbee,
Chowanoke, or any related Powhatan group tribe as manifest in Rojhaz. (The business of his blonde hair and blue
eyes being explained away as one of Madoc’s Welsh Indians was amusing but could
hold little water.) I’m still not
entirely convinced the costume is accurate.
(For more information, have a look here:
http://www.lost-colony.com/home.html) I also like the notion that America would be
the place where the “Witchbreed” would look to for acceptance much as the
Pilgrims et al looked to it for religious freedom.
The characters are all fascinating, and I have a soft spot
for Virginia Dare, for reasons I already mentioned, and also because she looks
a lot like how I envision my own character, Cécile, to look. Andy Kubert’s art, is, as you know,
omnipresent, but I can’t say I agreed with the enhanced pencil look of the
story. Quite frankly, although Kubert’s
pencil sketches as included in the appendix show that he is an extremely
talented draftsman, I dislike the computer-generated painting of the color
applied afterwards. I agree it would
probably have been too much work to ink and color in the traditional style, but
it causes the pages to look cartoony and less authentic rather than more. It almost makes the art look clumsy at first,
before you get used to it, which was a bit of a turn-off as I was getting into
the story and trying to take it seriously.
Not so the incredible scratchboard covers by Scott
McKowen. I would certainly buy these
covers and display them as art on my wall.
They are among the most distinctive and beautiful graphic novel art I
have ever seen and probably will ever see.
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