This was very engaging at a meta level. An unnamed narrator, seemingly the author, but possibly not, seeking essentially the impetus to write what I was consuming. The liminal space of being a person and a character, not knowing what may have the stamp of approval as “factual”, as well as the goals of the character being non standard, create a really engaging way to consume the fiction. I think I paid deeper attention to every scene because there is more to discern, and perhaps even a small challenge to the reader as to what is “real” or not, and why that should even matter. Especially in a story about figuring out how and what to write, even when you have some parameters defined for the project.

I really enjoy Belcourt’s prose work. They’re lyrical and sometimes purple, but not continually. They make casual moments leap off the page because the narrator is putting effort into them, in the attempt to memorialize them - which is then translated to the page, which we then have meta context of. It’s clever, well done, and I like prose like that, generally, anyway. High specificity is always a mark of good writing, even when it courts readers to upturn their nose. Perhaps especially then. This idea of Hemingway, “simple” prose work being The Best, is a bastardization of the form, imo. Never mind that it now feels like the most general, stale, straight way to formulate an authorial voice, and this book is obviously queer. But I’ve said my peace on it.

This is a fantastic piece that sits around 4.5 rounded up, with some connective tissue feeling like it could have brought it to perfection.

This was fine. I’m not a ghost rider Super Fan, nor am I that into horror, so I think a lot of what is cool about this one I was ambivalent towards. It wasn’t bad, though. Hell attempts to. Brainwash Johnny, failing that his, what? partnership? with the Ghost Rider is fractured, and he embarks on careening from one horrific adventure to the next, invariably ending with the rider taking him over and him waking up someplace new.

The ending was… weird though, and knocked it down a peg. There’s a competition where the prize is an audience with the devil, and a random assortment of heroes are there to race with/against Johnny. A little too gonzo for me.

I like this enough to bump it up to a 4, I think. There’s a fun little twist at the end I quite liked and the tension leading to the next arc was also good. It’s also really gonzo. Sometimes to the point of incredulity, which is saying something of a superhero comic, but it’s also one of the most fun times I’ve had with a contained arc in quite some time. It also has fantastic art, which helps a lot.

Well, what a glow up. Shifting from the exact same arc Murdoch has always had, we actually get a long arc with some descent existentialism in there. Murdoch struggles, for once, in a very real way with what he’s done, as well as His concept of morality at the same time as the cop from the previous volume has to deal with the fallout of his going rogue to get Daredevil, with the added sprinkling of Kingpin going legit and a subplot with Murdoch going into a will-they-won’t-they romance. It actually works very, very well.

I was going to put this at 4 stars because of the shift in quality for the artwork, which I think has three illustrators across the volume, possibly. But it’s honestly so good I didn’t care and the last issue had a return to form from an artist I can’t remember the name of, who did a great run on the series previously - semi-like the best Hawkeye run ever, by Fraction. It really gels with Daredevil and the film noir esk presentation was stellar. I kind of hope that artist takes over but it seems doubtful that that would happen at the last issue of an arc.

I really like the artwork but the story feels just as expected from a Daredevil comic. I feel like it’s impossible for people to breath new life into this series and I don’t understand why it constantly makes best-of lists. It’s in the Eisners for best continuing series, so maybe it’s best improved? I’ll give the second volume a shot but it’s just more Murdoch being sad and Christian guilting it up. The ending wasn’t too bad; a kind of cliffhanger. But not actually, since there’s a second volume there’s no real stakes or narrative tension. How will Murdoch just continue to be Daredevil seems to always be the question posed.

This was just not something I ever cared about, and eventually started speed reading. The first little arc being rooted to books of magic was stuff I already knew about, though afterward his making a deal with an ostensible future self to save him in the moment, at the cost of his soul, was interesting—it just felt like it was spinning it’s wheels afterward. Same old John, same old. The art was great, though. Won’t bother with the second volume.

VanderMeer continues the trend of not writing books I dislike. I’m a fan. I like to think this takes place before Borne; it sure feels like it. An atypical woman, bodybuilder, self described as somewhat of a giantess, unable to navigate social circle and curry favour—is covertly given an envelope that starts her down a rabbit hole of eco terrorism at the same time as her life is falling apart due to similar circumstances in our lives currently: global eco deformation and climate change, refugees, and further disenfranchisement and stratification of class.

This is a fractured narrative but that’s what made it so compelling. She isn’t a likeable person to follow, but I tend to also like that. It’s lyrical and biting about social issues. It’s tense and has action at the right times, but is otherwise oratory a character study that shows how and why people, especially those on the margins, fracture. Yet they are still people of interest and substance and there are forces with interest that work to combat any eco changes. It’s a nice line this one walks. A very nice line.

Back in form. Possibly better than the first book, for me, which I liked quite a bit. There’s a lyrical, almost modern myth or folklore-type voice that transplants the realism of a man emerging from a heavy set of addictions the causation of which from childhood trauma. It opens the door for narratives typically about working class people dealing with these issues—and them not being Actual issues in privileged, beyond the upscale resort that makes treatment portrayed as blasé (typically)—into the upper crust in a manner that does class criticism and grounds recovery as a universality.

It also cleverly becomes cyclical, echoing certain motifs that make the emotional component resonate more so. It’s charming, well-written, and biting. I really like narratives that don’t kiss up to the privileged, and this is critical of the right people on the right way, contributing to the fairytale-esk quality mentioned previously.

As one of my favourite movies of all-time, the experience is probably always going to be a positive one. It’s interesting that this starts at the end, just like the film, but gives away the main twist. I kind of dug it though, because it makes you instantly question everything, which you ought to, and probably wouldn’t have done otherwise. I’d wager a large portion of the film is verbatim too. Most scenes I could see in my head play out even as I read them, and there wasn’t that much additional context being added beyond that.

For such a solipsistic, unreliable narrator, he spends a lot of time saying what is happening, with little interiority. It’s a very cinematic novel. Just like the film, the book seems to also get a lot of readers that don’t understand the satirical nature of it. It is an indictment of toxic masculinity and an acknowledgement of how young boys, just like the narrator, and those others like him who join, who become susceptible to recruitment through tapping into this generational underlying anger. There’s enough empathy and biting criticism that it evens out, not giving a black and white theme or message. Rather, it endeavours to provide a kind of power fantasy and show just how grotesque it is. Not to mention how the narrator themselves could have been fractured to that point to begin with. It’s a terrible cycle that just keeps repeating, co-opting culture and young men—unless, as we see, there’s some manner of intervention.

I do think the movie surpasses the source material, though. But only because the book is written in such a way as to not offer more than the movie, and the movie having a structure that’s more appealing—possibly more thought provoking (depending on the viewer anyway; reading reviews of the movie show some people have no idea what it’s actually about).

This was weird. But interesting. It’s a post modern slow-burn, in which a woman finds herself awakening as a metatextual heroine that must succumb to the particular trope of falling in love. Or something like it. In a kind of Groundhog Day type situation, every time she attempts to seemingly any choice, something happens to reset her into another romance plot.

There’s not a lot of answers but I did find what was happening intriguing. But I also do just tend to like post modern stuff like this. There’s a few things teased as to what may be happening, and catharsis is denied every time. It probably bugged some people, but I’ll pick up the next volume and see what’s going on; I haven’t read anything like this before.