Ronin

roninI’ve just recently been get­ting back into read­ing comics, since the open­ing of Local Heroes in Ghent and Frank Miller’s Ronin was some­thing I had no pre­vi­ous knowl­edge of, despite being pro­duced back in the 1980’s. It was just one of those “this looks good, I’ll buy it” moments. I’m really glad I bought it, and I am really get­ting into buy­ing col­lected comic vol­umes as opposed to indi­vid­ual comic issues. It’s nice to have enough mate­r­ial in one book to read and then put down and then pick back up when ever its con­ve­nient. I don’t have desire to store and take care of new comics, and I really just care about read­ing the sto­ries, so these col­lected vol­umes are the way to go.

The story for this book, when sum­ma­rized, doesn’t really sound very good. Magic swords, demons, tech­no­log­i­cal mega-complexes, tele­ki­netic quad­ri­pleg­ics and feu­dal Japan don’t seem to be con­cepts that cohe­sively fit together for mak­ing a really plau­si­ble comic, but you’re just gonna have to go with me on this; it works… well. It works sur­pris­ingly well, in fact. The fan­tas­tic ele­ment pre­sented in the begin­ning of the book does take a back seat through­out the story, which is sat­is­fy­ing. I always have hard to com­pro­mis­ing between multi-genre col­li­sions between science-fiction and fan­tasy. Ulti­mately this story falls into nei­ther cat­e­gory, but requries ele­ments of those gen­res to pro­pell itself. The long and short of the story is that a the souls of a Ronin and a demon named Agat are trapped in a mag­i­cal sword some­time in ancient Japan, the soul of the Ronin seeks out the host body of Billy, a quad­ri­plegic with tele­ki­netic pow­ers who helps develop cyber­netic limbs inside of a tech­no­log­i­cal mega fortress, called Aquar­ius, located in post-apocalyptic New York City. With Billy as his host, he com­mands Virgo, to build him arms and legs and chage his appear­ance in order to fight the demon which can take the form of any liv­ing creature..

I told you it sounded nuts.

I promise you, it’s so good.

The art might seem quirky by todays stan­dards, but its Frank Miller’s usual gritty style applied to a visu­ally obsessive-compulsive mega future. The art is very 80’s in the sense that there is the feel­ing that tech­nol­ogy is bristling from every cor­ner of the page but its so vague and form­less because the nature of the tech­nol­ogy isn’t really impor­tant. Very dif­fer­ent from today’s work where we feel the neces­sity to know what every bump on Batman’s util­ity belt does. There is a slight Japan­ese sci-fi influ­ence, but not like one might expect from mod­ern comics. Think more “Japan­i­ma­tion” and less “Anime.” While the buzz­words mean essen­tially the same thing, the gen­er­a­tion gap between 1980’s and early 90’s fans of Japan­ese ani­ma­tion and Inuyasha is quite vast.

If you’ve read the comic, and I don’t want to spoil it for you if you have not (so stop read­ing at this point if thats the case), I won­der if any­one else seems to feel like the char­ac­ter of Billy rep­re­sents comic book cre­ators or artists as a whole. Arm­less, leg­less, impo­tent freaks with­out any power what­so­ever in their real worlds, but gifted with vast men­tal power, imag­i­na­tion and the poten­tial to change the world, and, at the cen­ter of this power the main moti­va­tion is sex. As always.

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