billyjepma's reviews
628 reviews

A very cute adventure with impeccable “bedtime story” vibes. Can’t say I loved it, but I did enjoy most of it and was captivated by a few choice sequences where the fantasy and whimsy and mystery were all at their peak (Beorn is the homie, Bilbo and Gollum’s riddle duel was amazing, Smaug is a chilling delight). 

It also made it even more clear that Jackson totally whiffed it in his film adaptations. Why anyone would force the grit and heavier tones of the LotR onto a children’s story is beyond me.

I loved this. I knew I’d like it, but I didn’t know I’d love it as much as I did. Stevenson has created something that’s darkly insightful while also being a quirky, self-aware, and sometimes cute adventure. The artwork is excellent and is a wonderful example of how personality is the single most important thing a comic’s visuals can have. Character designs are flawless—satirically aware of their tropes, yet zany enough to feel distinct—and the visual gags, character expressions, and general texture of the book are a constant delight. There could’ve been 1,000 pages here, and I still think I’d want more at the end. 

That said, I confess to being slightly let down by the ending, specifically its suddenness and the way it sidesteps some of the repercussions the climax undoubtedly leaves in its wake. I love ambiguity, but for a story that’s so smart with its subversions and commentary, leaving so much of the ending untold felt a touch out-of-character for the book. But that’s ultimately a minor bump in what was otherwise a gleeful adventure with a huge heart and far sharper, toothier thematic work than I expected—in the plot, anyway, as I did find myself wanting a little more from Ambrosius. 

It’s still a total winner, though, and I can see myself revisiting it often whenever I need a properly zany, funny, and strikingly poignant fantasy romp. If there were any justice in the world, they would teach this in schools.

I still don’t think Taylor has done a great job at setting tangible stakes (or even narrative momentum), so it’s a testament to the quality of his character work and Redondo’s ineffable artwork that this series is still a total joy to read. The visuals are vibrant, packed with punches of color, and the dialogue is sharp and snappy with enough terrific personality to go around. Is Taylor’s tone still a little too happy-go-lucky for my tastes? Sure, it does border on that, but his intentions are so good that it has yet to become anything more than a minor moment or cringe. And hey, as on-the-nose as Taylor’s commentary is, it was still pretty rad to see Nightwing beat the shit out of a corrupt police commissioner. It’s not often a mainstream comic will outright cast the police as villains, but this book is—until it isn’t, of course, but I’ll still take the win. 

A taut, dramatic, and excruciating dive into the countless horrible acts of violence inflicted by white Americans on the Osage Indian Nation. Grann's research is comprehensive, and his writing here is as sharp as anything I've encountered in my (admittedly meager) dips into non-fiction. His book occupies a fascinating place between hard-hitting investigative journalism—which is thrilling, by the way—and moving, often nauseating retellings of a history I barely knew a thing about. I love how grand the scale of the book is and how it centers the stories of so many people and gives them the respect, grace, and closure history denied them. The final section of the book messes with the propulsive pacing of the first two as they settle into the more traditional structure of a whodunnit, but it's in that section where the most meaningful bits of commentary are found. The FBI might claim to have ended the "Years of Terror," but the truth is far bloodier than that, and the closure the American government provided was a half-measure that dismissed countless unsolved murders into the dark annals of history.

Part of me wanted Grann to lean further into his political leanings, specifically regarding the FBI, as my outrage at the truths the book illuminates made me eager for some scathing rebuttal or judgment. But I'm glad Grann has more restraint than me, as his approach is far more effective and searing than any commentary could be, especially considering how damning the hard facts of the story are. And to his credit, the historical details and quotes he uses in the section documenting the FBI's development speak volumes to his opinion of the thing. Even Tom White, the "hero" of the FBI investigation that resulted in meaningful arrests, is a flawed person who, as Grann smartly and briefly acknowledges at one point, eventually settles into the same lifestyle as the people he's often quoted as detecting. 

I'm incredibly glad I read this (or, rather, listened to the excellent audiobook), and in an ideal world, I would love to assume that it becomes mandatory reading. 

I think Catwoman: Lonely City spoiled me a bit, because it and Rogues have a lot in common, and I think Chiang just did it better. Still, the impressive art and fun, creative heist format make this a great read. I was left underwhelmed by the characters—I like the templates Williamson uses a lot, but felt like he didn’t go anywhere with them—but in a relatively straightforward caper like this, it didn’t hurt my enjoyment too much. 

A very enjoyable 3-star book. I don’t think I’ll come across an in-canon Batman book that really gives me what I want, which is disappointing, but as far as exciting blockbuster reads go, this fits the bill better than most. Jimenez’s art is as bombastic as ever, and I’m so glad he stayed on. His work is excellent; sharp and aggressive and sleek all at once, exactly how a Batman book should be. And Morey’s colors only make it better by bringing out the momentum of Jimenez’s propulsive action. I could’ve gone from more choreography in the action, but the brawler approach Jimenez uses works. 

Zdarsky’s scripts are also good but in a forgettable, popcorn-movie sorta way. You can tell he gets Batman, but his storytelling here is too big for my tastes and even crosses over into anime territory in terms of how elevated it becomes. And it’s fun, definitely, but its attempts at interrogating who Batman is are mostly lukewarm attempts at novelty, so they end up feeling more shallow than not. Still, I’m interested to see where Zdarsky takes things from here, and his track record is strong enough that he might even surprise me. 

There’s some compelling stuff here, backed up by solid characterizations that feel authentic despite the YA cliches they also embody. The writing is also good, and the primary protagonists all have unique voices and perspectives I mostly enjoyed, even if the cultist angle the story takes is one I’m not usually fond of. But the final stretch left me feeling like I just spent 300+ pages reading something meant to support another story instead of operating on its own terms. A lot of shocking things happen in the final chapters, and I honestly admire how grim a few of its twists were. The sudden twists gave the plot the momentum it had lacked previously, but the way key characters reacted was jarring for me. It’s like the whole book was going in one direction just to pivot the other way in the final pages. We’ll see if the follow-up books fill in some of the gaps for me, but right now, my feelings are mixed.

Part of my mixed reaction is probably due to my continued apprehension about the prequel approach that this phase of The High Republic has adopted. It seems driven by plot, not character, which is rarely something that works for me in the ways I want. And, so far, my early forays into this phase have left me intellectually interested but emotionally cold. My investment isn’t there yet, and it really should be. I’m obviously going to keep going because I’m in too deep to do anything else, but whatever comes next will need to do some heavy lifting if they want to get anywhere close to where the first phase of THR was.

Fun read! I still feel like Taylor is too nice to write a book like this—I feel similarly about his Black Label Hellblazer—but he quickly establishes this as not your typical Suicide Squad book and the differentiation is enough to make it work. The emotional beats needed more time to breathe and settle, and the politics—as correct and cathartic as they are—don’t actually have many teeth, which is a missed opportunity. But in a mainstream comic book, I’m happy to see how much Taylor got into this. A diverse cast of characters, some satisfying comeuppances, and vibrant artwork make this a very enjoyable, surprisingly breezy read. Again, it’s far lighter than a Suicide Squad series probably should be, but if you have the right expectations, it’s hard not to have a good time. 

"Falling for the disguise isn't about falling for the mask. It's about falling for the lie."

This is a decent end to a great series. King doesn't deviate from the trajectory he set in motion in the first half, which works for and against him here. I like how simple the ending is, how comfortably inevitable it is, and how easily it slides into classic noir tropes like a well-loved piece of clothing. But I also wanted more oomph, something that pricked my emotions more. The series is so good at letting scenes play out at a steady, thoughtful cadence that I expected it to lead to a crescendo that hit me harder, and that's not what this is, ultimately. It's still a satisfying conclusion, even if the plot itself more-or-less resolves itself around issue 9 or 10, with the final outings acting as an epilogue. King runs in place a little too long, narratively, I think, but he stills manages to tie up Christopher Chance's arc with a neat, dramatic bow that worked well enough for me. I don't mind that the story wasn't ultimately interested in being something more than it was, even if I wish it had deviated more from its inspirations.

I have zero issues with Smallwood's art, which continues to make this series the banger it is. If King's writing is familiar territory for him and the genre he's playing in, Smallwood's art is the iterative quality that makes the familiar into something novel. His coloring is especially striking, maybe even more so here than in the first half. Any emotions I didn't find in the script were very present in the art, which Smallwood uses to convey rich and intimate breadths of interiority in the characters. Facial expressions that house a lifetime of longing, shadows slicing across someone's face, a sunset so perfect it can only live in memory—Smallwood makes the book feel like a dream you feel more than remember. The series won't land on my all-time favorites list, but I will eagerly await the inevitable deluxe hardcover collection. This is absolutely a book I want within to have within reaching distance for the next time I'm in the mood for a nostalgic, dreamy book about loving and dying and the futile lies we tell ourselves to keep those things at arm's length.

There’s a lot to like here—striking prose, sharp characterizations, vibes so potent you can feel them sticking on your skin—but it ultimately didn’t work for me as much as I wanted. It’s a very cruel book, for one, with more violence than I expected (that’s on me for going into this without knowing anything about it), which I can usually stomach without a problem. But the cruelty didn’t have the teeth it needed to leave a mark—it’s all blunt and brutal and lacks the intentionality I look for. What’s the violence saying? How does it frame or reframe the themes and characters? I kept looking for a moment to make everything click into place, but I never found it. I’m sure it’s there somewhere, but for whatever reason, it never materialized for me. 

The dual storylines have potential, and the structure of the chapters does an admirable job of bouncing between the two timelines. Some moments had me by the throat and used the back-and-forth pacing to keep me reading longer than planned. Those moments are the exception, though, as I usually gravitated toward the 1989 story, where Kidd’s characterizations are the strongest, and the narrative has the most momentum and stakes. I kept waiting for the two stories to converge, but they didn’t, at least not in a way that satisfied me. They share themes, sure, but when the themes are this broad and, honestly, kind of basic, it left me cold. There’s enough good here that I can’t go lower than a three-star rating, but suffice it to say, this one wasn’t for me.