Review:
Cerebus, by Dave Sim
| Series: |
Cerebus #1 |
| Publisher: |
Aardvark-Vanaheim |
| Copyright: |
August 1987 |
| Printing: |
July 2003 |
| ISBN: |
0-919359-08-6 |
| Format: |
Graphic novel |
| Pages: |
546 |
Cerebus is something of a legend in comics. Begun in December of
1977 by Dave Sim, it was one of the first entirely independent,
self-published comics in a field dominated by the large work-for-hire
companies like Marvel and DC. It ran for 300 issues and nearly 27 years
and became one of the most influential independent comic books of all
time, in part due to Sim's outspoken views in favor of creator rights and
his regular use of the editorial pages in
Cerebus issues to air
those views. This collection (the first "phonebook") collects issues 1
through 25, with one of the amazing wrap-around covers that makes all of
the phonebooks so beautiful (possibly partly by later Cerebus collaborator
Gerhard, although if so it's uncredited so far as I can tell).
Cerebus reliably has some of the best black-and-white art you will
ever see in comics.
There is some debate over where to start with
Cerebus, and a
faction that, for good reasons, argues for starting with the second
phonebook (
High Society). While these first twenty-five issues do
introduce the reader to a bunch of important characters (Elrod, Lord
Julius, Jaka, Artemis Roach, and Suenteus Po, for example), all those
characters are later reintroduced and nothing that happens here is hugely
vital for the overall story. It's also quite rough, starting as Conan
parody with almost no depth. The first half or so of this collection
features lots of short stories with little or no broader significance, and
the early ones are about little other than Cerebus's skills and fighting
abilities.
That said, when reading the series, I like to start at the beginning. It
is nice to follow the characters from their moment of first introduction,
and it's delightful to watch Sim's ability grow (surprisingly quickly)
through the first few issues.
Cerebus #1 is bad: crude, simplistic
artwork, almost nothing in the way of a story, and lots of purple
narration. But flipping forward even to
Cerebus #6 (the first
appearance of Jaka), one sees a remarkable difference. By
Cerebus
#7, Cerebus looks like himself, the plot is getting more complex, and Sim
is clearly hitting his stride. And, by the end of this collection, the
art has moved from crude past competent and into truly beautiful in
places. It's one of the few black-and-white comics where I never miss
color. The detailed line work is more enjoyable than I think any coloring
could be.
The strength of Cerebus as an ongoing character slowly emerges from behind
the parody. What I like the most about Cerebus is that he's neither a
predestined victor (apart from the early issues that follow the Conan
model most closely) nor a pure loner who stands apart from the world. He
gets embroiled in political affairs, but almost always for his own reasons
(primarily wealth). He has his own moral code, but it's fluid and
situational; it's the realistic muddle of impulse and vague principle that
most of us fall back on in our everyday life, which is remarkably unlike
the typical moral code in comics (or even fiction in general). And while
he is in one sense better and more powerful than anyone else in the story,
that doesn't mean Cerebus gets what he wants. Most stories here end up
going rather poorly for him, forcing daring escapes or frustrating cutting
of losses. Sim quickly finds a voice for Cerebus that's irascible, wise,
practical, and a bit world-weary, as well as remarkably unflappable. He's
one of the best protagonists in comics, and that's already clear by the
end of this collection.
Parody is the focus of these first issues, which is a mixed bag. The
early issues are fairly weak sword-and-sorcery parody (particularly Red
Sonja, primarily a vehicle for some tired sexist jokes) and worth reading
only for the development in Sim's art style and the growth of Cerebus as a
unique voice. Sim gets away from straight parody for the middle of the
collection, but then makes an unfortunate return for the final few issues,
featuring parodies of
Man-Thing and
X-Men that I thought
were more forced than funny. You have to have some tolerance for this,
and (similar to early Pratchett) a lot of it isn't as funny as the author
seems to think it is.
That said, three of Sim's most brilliant ongoing characters are parodies,
just ones that are mixed and inserted into the "wrong" genres in ways that
bring them alive. Elrod of Melvinbone, a parody of Moorcock's Elric of
Melnibone who speaks exactly like Foghorn Leghorn, should not work and yet
does. He's the source of the funniest moments in this collection. His
persistant treatment of Cerebus as a kid in a bunny suit shouldn't be as
funny as it is, but it reliably makes me laugh each time I re-read this
collection. Lord Julius is a straight insertion of Groucho Marx who
really comes into his own in the next collection,
High Society, but
some of the hilarious
High Society moments are foreshadowed here.
And Artemis Roach, who starts as a parody of Batman and will later parody
a huge variety of comic book characters, provides several delightful
moments with Cerebus as straight man.
I'm not much of a fan of parody, but I still think
Cerebus is
genuinely funny.
High Society is definitely better, but I think
one would miss some great bits by skipping over the first collection.
Much of what makes it work is the character of Cerebus, who is in turn a
wonderful straight man for Sim's wilder characters and an endless source
of sharp one-liners. It's easy to really care about and root for Cerebus,
even when he's being manipulative and amoral, because he's so
straightforward and forthright about it. The world Sim puts him into is
full of chaos, ridiculousness, and unfairness, and Cerebus is the sort of
character to put his head down, make a few sarcastic comments, and then
get on with it. It's fun to watch.
One final note: I've always thought the "phonebook" collections were one
of Sim's best ideas. Unlike nearly all comic book collections, a
Cerebus phonebook provides enough material to be satisfying and has
always felt like a good value for the money. I wish more comic book
publishers would learn from Sim's example and produce larger collections
that aren't hardcover deluxe editions (although Sim has an admitted
advantage from not having to reproduce color).
Followed by
High Society.
Rating: 7 out of 10
I've been ill for around 18 months. I started off ill, and more recently
became more ill, so that I'd mentally divided my illness into two distinct
periods. The truth, it turns out, is not quite so clear-cut. My more recent
period of malaise spurred me on to seek a different treatment, which has
restored me to a state of well-being which I had honestly forgot existed.
It's quite possibly a combination of the desired outcome of treatment and also
a side-effect of the drugs I'm on at the moment but I feel both mentally and
physically the best I have in a long time. My mind is burning with ideas once
again. Responsibilities and chores that used to sap me now seem less daunting.
Having acclimatised to a steady-seeming state of being, which turns out to not
be "well", I'd started to wonder if, in some respects, I'd reached the limits
of my abilities. The knock-on effect of that was, to me, to consider what the
future held, in many regards, including in terms of career.
There were some benefits to my prior state of being. I'd begun to learn how to
relax, how to wind down, how to not bite off more than I could chew. In particular
I'd stopped worshipping at the alter of multitasking and started to give proper
attention to one significant task at a time, with corresponding improvements in
my productivity.
These useful chunks of self-discipline have fallen to the wayside a little bit
now. I'm enjoying a holiday in the body-and-mind landscape of my past. I don't
feel too guilty about it. I think I deserve it. But I mustn't linger here too
long, lest I forget those hard-won lessons.
I've not managed to follow through on a lot of things I've tried to pick up over
the last year and a half: software half-finished; Debian committments uncompleted;
and I've felt a lingering sense of guilt about that, but at least I now have an
explanation.
Currently reading: Chronic City, by Jonathan Lethem.
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