These are the first three volumes of the autobiography of Hazel, the child of a great romance between two people from different species. Her birth is something of a miracle, because no one was sure it was biologically possible – she is born with the beginnings of her mother’s wings and her father’s horns. More than that, the two species, originally from the planet Landfall and its moon Wreath, have been locked for centuries in bitter warfare that has spread to the whole galaxy. It’s an interstellar Romeo and Juliet in which the lovers don’t die, at least not before they’ve had a baby.
So it’s a mixture of science fiction and fantasy that wouldn’t be out of place as an extended Doctor Who narrative, though it includes a lot more physical and verbal grossness than would ever happen around the Tardis – male genitals can rarely have been portrayed as repulsively as in the images of the giant Fard in Volume 2, and the characters swear like troopers or inner-city hipsters.
Volume 1 begins with Hazel’s birth and ends with her paternal grandparents materialising on the young family’s organic, sentient spaceship, with a lot of bang-bang, kiss-kiss, magic and gore in between, as the lethal emissaries of several powerful organisations are out to kill Hazel’s parents and capture the baby.
In Volume 2, the chase continues. There are flashbacks to the parents’ courtship and the refreshingly frank conversation that followed hard on the moment of conception. Back in the present, the plot thickens when, among other things, Hazel’s father’s jilted fiancée joins forces with a mercenary named The Will, a planet turns out to be a giant egg (which hatches), and they visit someone who is either the wisest person in the universe or a hack romance writer.
By the end of Volume 3, Hazel – now a toddler – is miraculously still alive, along with her parents, her grandmother and her spectral babysitter. The cast of interesting characters, both allies and enemies, has expanded, as has the tally of dead bodies and ingenious monsters in their wake.
The first two of these books were a birthday present from a son who knows I’m interested in comics. I had misgivings. Having recently faced the fact that super-heroes are inherently boring, I was half expecting a similar epiphany about science fiction/fantasy comics. But no, these books are witty, warm, interestingly plotted, well-paced, and at heart sweet. (I say ‘at heart’ because the frequent nakedness, swearing and superficial cynicism do a good job of protecting the warm, soft, even idealistic core of the narrative.)
I also had misgivings about the art. But once you accept the demands of the genre, which evidently include a quota of garishness and bare flesh, Fiona Staples’ visuals are brilliant. I particularly like the way our heroine, Hazel’s mother, is lithe, tough, gorgeous, and fiercely maternal.
So I spent my own good money on the third book, which just arrived in Sydney’s Kinokuniya this week. Given that the story is narrated by Hazel in what sounds like a young adult voice, I imagine the series has another 20 or so years to cover. It’s coming out in monthly instalments, of which these three volumes cover the first 18. There’s an interesting interview with Brian K Vaughan on the Comic Book Resources site, which incidentally draws attention to a couple of details in Fiona Staples’ images that I hadn’t noticed, but that definitely move the story over into Mature Readers Only territory.