(There's some Philip K. Dick-level mindfucking going on in today's comic. But I'll talk about it tomorrow. Got an early morning tomorrow!)
There is something interesting that happens at the beginning of a story. We bring to it every experience we've ever had, and from that combination create for ourselves a context through which to understand the narrative we're about to experience. Junk Culture does such a good job at the beginning of taking that combination and playing on its predictability. Issue #2 blows everything up. And that's not least because Eve and Lola blow shit up in this issue. Lots of it.
As I noted up there, there's a bit of a Dickian revelation about half way through the comic, and the uncertainty that I was talking about the other day in describing Mr. McKeever's art is reflected also in the story. Uncertainty replaces the foundation we created with our perspectives and the information given in the first issue. I love when a comic messes with your head a bit like that.
This has also got to rate as one of the bloodier comics I've read, though really nothing's going to come close to Faust. Thank goodness.
More to come...
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