Lost in the Wash

Picked this one up recently — written by former Lubbockite John Ira Thomas, with art by Will Grant, from Thomas’ Candle Light Press.

The story is set in a tiny town in the Colorado mountains called Isco — it used to be called Francisco ’til the locals changed the name in a burst of misguided patriotism prior to the Iraq War. Still, for a town with a population of just 60 people, it’s got an unusual collection of amenities — an occult bookstore (which doubles as a tattoo parlor and a paintball range), a fairly large laundromat, and a castle. And a ghost. Maybe several ghosts…

Walt and Terisa run the bookstore/tattoo/paintball parlor (and try to drum up support for something they call Gothic Colorado, which gives the local punk/goth population an excuse to try to scare themselves with ghost stories and rituals), while Darrin runs (and lives in) the laundromat for his tyrannical uncle Sal, who lives in the local castle. Darrin has a seriously rotten life — he refers to himself as a ghost, because no one notices him, no one cares about him, he’s invisible to the world because he lives and works in a laundromat, plus his uncle pretty much owns him and heaps abuse on him at every opportunity.

And there’s a monster living inside the washing machines.

A giant snake, in fact, made out of water. It periodically emerges, sucks some poor soul dry, and vanishes ’til the next time it gets hungry. And this leads to even more questions — why is Darrin so good at throwing scares into the goth kids at Gothic Colorado? What is Sal really doing in that big castle? And is Darrin even alive at all?

Verdict: Thumbs up. It’s a good, fun, spooky story, and I bet you’d like it.

Let’s talk setting a bit. Part of me wants to snark about how this tiny, tiny town in the mountains has so much odd stuff. A laundromat, a bookstore, and a castle? But on the other hand, part of it feels very realistic. When I was a kid, we’d often spend our summer vacation in the southern New Mexico mountains, and you quickly learn that folks up there are a bit quirky. No, not crazy or dangerous, but they’ve moved way out to the edge of civilization, and if they want to open a deluxe ice cream parlor or learn chainsaw sculpture or start an ostrich farm or cover their entire house with animal skulls — well, they’ll do it, and no one much is gonna complain. The large numbers of punked-out goth kids is a bit much, but the rest? I reckon I’ve seen weirder.

Thomas’ story itself is seriously offbeat — a mystical water serpent lurking in coin-op washing machines? — while still being tense, surreal, and frightening. There are threats here both mundane and supernatural, and we’re never really sure what’s the most dangerous, or where the next shock will hit us.

Grant’s art is fun, too — part surreal and jagged and enraged, part liquid and wet and flowing — appropriate for a story where water plays such a big role in the action. Seriously, plan to spend a little extra time to read through this carefully — the path of Grant’s art from one panel to the next and from one word balloon to another is not always in a straight line. You can’t control where the river may take you, after all.

It’s a good one, kids. Go pick it up.

Just a week before Christmas, and it’s looking like I may be able to devote this entire week to more gift recommendations. Today, we look at Brandon Graham’s amazing King City.

Ya know, I kinda don’t want to tell you anything about this one. When I read it for the first time, I knew almost nothing about it, other than the fact that a lot of people had lavishly praised its art and vision and general madcappery. In a lot of ways, I think that’s the best way to go into this book — knowing nothing about it and being delighted and shocked and mind-blown every time you turn a page.

But let’s hit a few quick plot and character bits, just for the sake of being thorough. Our story is set some time in the future — not quite dystopia, not quite space-opera futuristic. Our main character is Joe, a Catmaster — he’s a martial artist who’s able to use his cat, Earthling, as any tool or weapon he needs, with an injection of the right drug. His best friend is Pete, a guy who wears a doofy-looking hood all the time, who’s fallen in love with an alien he helped sell into slavery. His ex-girlfriend is Anna, who lives with Max, a veteran of the Zombie Wars who is addicted to a drug he uses to control his nightmares — the same drug his body is slowly turning into the more he uses it. They fight giant monsters and spies and cyberpunks and mad scientists and everything in between.

I could say more than that, but I ain’t gonna. I want you to go into this not knowing what to expect.

Verdict: Thumbs up. So very, very thumbs up. This is a glorious comic, sketchy and imaginative and sexy and surreal and hilarious and filled with wild and crazy action sequences. The dialogue, the characterization, the art and design are all absolutely pinpoint perfect.

I really don’t know what else I can say about it. It’s just a fantastic comic.

If you have someone on your list who loves wild science fiction and action, or who just loves beautifully-made comics, you’ll want to get this for them. If you haven’t read this yet, you may want to get it for yourself. It’s a nice, fat comic — over 400 pages! — and you can get it, retail, for just $20, probably less at the big online retailers.

King City by Brandon Graham. Go pick it up.

Okay, the holidays are fast approaching, and I’m running out of time to make more gift recommendations fast, so why don’t we jump right in with some more? Today, let’s look at Tom Beland’s True Story, Swear to God.

This is an autobiographical comic — Tom is a newspaper cartoonist from Napa, California, who gets a free ticket to Disneyworld from a coworker. While visiting, he has a chance meeting with Lily, a radio personality from Puerto Rico. And they hit it off pretty amazingly — they’re basically soulmates. They start a long, long, long distance relationship, but Tom eventually decides to quit his job and move away from his lifelong home to live with Lily in San Juan. What follows is cultural shock, language barriers, loneliness, weather issues, hurricanes, money troubles, job troubles, comic books — and a love between two people that just never lets up.

What, you want more than that? True love isn’t enough for you?

Verdict: Thumbs up. Okay, okay, I didn’t talk a lot about long-running plots, but for the most part, it’s good episodic storytelling. Ain’t nothing wrong with episodic storytelling, especially when it’s this well-done.

Beland’s art style is very cartoony — but still lushly detailed when he needs it, usually when depicting the beauty of Puerto Rico — and that cartoonishness often gives his stories a comedic mood, even when the plots are especially dramatic. Lily’s ordeal during the hurricane is definitely not funny, for example — does Beland’s cartooning make it look funny? Well, maybe a bit — but it would also look really weird if he changed his art style just for that story. Besides, Beland is really good at seeing the funny side of most things, so I think the cartoons work great.

Beland is not only a very funny guy — he’s also a very good storyteller. Part of this is that he’s had a really incredible story fall into his lap. True love! There’s no better story, and Beland gets to live it! But he’s got a grand talent for description and characterization and dialogue. Let’s face it, some of these stories are fairly commonplace — like most of real life, every issue can’t involve a hurricane of a cross-continent move. But he still manages to make stories about waiting in airports, talking on the phone, hanging out with friends and family, and much more into tales that pull you into the narratives completely. There are no superheroes and very rare action, but this is something you just can’t quit reading.

Got someone on your list who doesn’t care for superheroes or sci-fi or horror or any of the usual comic-book fare, but deeply loves newspaper comics — and enjoys a great love story? This may be something they’ll love reading. The stories are collected in several different volumes from Image Comics and AiT/PlanetLar — and they’re not generally too expensive, ranging from $15 for smaller volumes to $20 for large phone book editions. Check with your local comic shop or hit up one of the big booksellers.

True Story, Swear to God by Tom Beland. Go pick it up, ‘kay?

Time to dip back into our Holiday Gift Bag for some more recommendations for the comics fan on your list. Today, we’re going to look at Zita the Spacegirl by Ben Hatke.

This is a wonderful, quick-reading all-ages comic, perfect for kids to read on their own, for parents to read to younger kids, or even for adults who enjoy fun science fiction adventures.

Our story starts when Zita and her friend Joseph find a meteorite with a small push-button machine inside. When they push the button, a hole opens up in space and tentacles drag Joseph away. When Zita finally stirs up the courage to pursue, she finds herself on a distant planet filled with bizarre aliens. And Joseph is being held captive and set to be sacrificed by scary monster aliens. And the push-button device gets broken. And the whole planet is going to be blown up by an asteroid.

Zita does make some friends. Strong Strong is, well, strong, but a bit dumb. Piper is a reluctantly helpful humanoid with a spaceship — but no fuel. Pizzicato is a giant mouse. One is a vengeance-obsessed battle-bot. And Randy is a nervous, broken robot. But they’re still not much of an army against an alien conspiracy, greedy con men, powerful and cruel robot foes, and again, a giant asteroid that’s set the destroy everything in mere days. Can Zita’s courage help to save the day?

Verdict: Thumbs up. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy this incredibly charming story. The characterization is just plain grand, with villains you love to hate and heroes you love to love even as their personality quirks may infuriate you. The action is great, the suspense is frequently incredible, and the wonders and challenges Zita encounters are sometimes absolutely awe-inspiring — in terms of both “That’s fantastic!” and “That’s terrifying!”

And holy schmalokies, I love the art here. Hatke’s style is cartoony, open, friendly, even welcoming — that’s part of what makes the book such a page-turner, ’cause you want to just absorb more and more of his art. But he’s also great at depicting some of the incredible scale of this alien world and especially the dangers of the worst of Zita’s enemies.

Listen, you got kids? I bet they’ll wanna read this. You got daughters who crave adventure? It’s a stone guarantee they’ll wanna read this. You got a grownup on your list who loves audacious sci-fi derring-do and great cartooning? You’ll wanna wrap this up for ’em.

And there’s a sequel called “Legends of Zita the Spacegirl,” which I haven’t read yet — but if it’s anything like the original, you may wanna pick that up, too.

And even better: it ain’t gonna set you back much. It’s almost 200 pages of comics, and the price tag on the back is just eleven bucks.

Zita the Spacegirl by Ben Hatke. Go pick it up.

Well, it’s the day after Thanksgiving, and we all know what that means. Time to head out to the mall in the middle of the night, fight our way through jam-packed parking, and commit major felonies just so you can get our hands on — what’s the hot toy this year? Furbies? You’re kidding, right? Furbies? I’m supposed to beat up housewives so I can buy a freakin’ Furby?! That does it, I quit Planet Christmas.

But wait, we have an alternative to irritating Black Friday shopping! Comics! Yes, go visit your friendly local comic book store, where the parking lots are less crowded, the customers are more sophisticated, and the employees are dedicated to helping you find the perfect gift. We’ll spend a few weeks looking through our Holiday Gift Bag to find some great presents for any comic-lover on your list.

So let’s get things started this year with a book I’m honestly amazed I’ve never reviewed before now: We3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely.

This was released as a three-issue Vertigo miniseries in 2004, then put out in a trade paperback in 2005. It focuses on three animals that have been turned into cybernetically-enhanced war machines by the government. They are:

• a dog, called “1” who functions as the leader and mini-tank;
• a cat, called “2” equipped with flechette weapons and a very poor attitude; and
• a rabbit, called “3” who specializes in dropping bombs and poison gas.

All three animals have brain modifications that allow them to speak — but not very well. Most of what they say looks like very simple leet-speak, with the rabbit only able to manage very simple words, never sentences. They’re just animals — they’re not as smart as people, they don’t think like humans, so their speech is strange and bestial, while still retaining emotional resonance.

After a very successful testing program, the government decides that the We3 project is to be decommissioned and the animals killed. Their trainer releases the locks on the animals and lets them free, but they’re pursued by the military and other animal-machine hybrids, including a bunch of cyber-rats and a terrifying mastiff killing machine. And for the most part, the We3 animals tear through everything that comes after them. They massacre the soldiers who chase them, they blow up a train, they kill civilians who have the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But they can’t run forever. They run out of ammunition. Their health deteriorates when they don’t get the drug treatments they need to stay healthy. The military gets smarter, and their opponents get deadlier. The odds are stacked against them, and they may never manage to find the fabled land they long for — “Home.”

I think this is an amazing story. I love how much Grant Morrison obviously worked to get into the heads of the animals — 1 prizes loyalty above almost everything else. He loves helping people, and obsesses over being a good dog. 2 is perpetually bad-tempered and sarcastic, challenging 1’s leadership and intelligence, and gleefully using his advanced weapons to shoot down helicopters — or just songbirds. And 3 is simple and direct — he wants to be fed, he wants his equipment fixed, and he wants someone to take care of him. He’s slow to anger, but is more than capable of dishing out the violence when his team is threatened.

Morrison’s emphasis is on the animals, but he also writes empathetically about the humans as well. Dr. Roseanne is We3’s trainer and advocate, loyal and loving to her animal charges, willing to sacrifice her career and more to make sure they’re happy and safe. The lead scientist spends most of the story trying to capture or kill We3, but when he eventually sees the error of his ways, it’s a great moment — heartbreak, sorrow, love, compassion, all in one or two beautiful panels. And the bum the animals encounter is a great character, too — ultimately, I think he’s Morrison’s viewpoint character, in that he believes the best thing you can do for an animal is to love it.

And Frank Quitely’s art is absolutely amazing. When the animals escape, we watch it happen through dozens of different security cameras. When We3 attacks the military or blows up a drug cartel, we see it through a prism of tiny windows, each showing a brief second of action, all the details we’d never be able to make out in a full page — an eye getting pierced, a finger being severed, a bullet exiting a skull. The effect is very much like watching a movie that you can rewind, that lets you zoom in on small details.

It’s a very violent book. It doesn’t glory in violence — it’s depicted graphically, but not with glee or romance. We3 are war machines, and what they do is commit violence, not for fun (well, the cat probably thinks it’s fun), but because violence is part of their functions and programming. It’s the violence of the battlefield — not a good thing, but not something that can be glossed over and prettied up.

Amazon’s actually out of stock of this right now, but it looks like they may be expecting more. It might help if you contact your local comic shop or bookstore and ask when they expect to have them in stock. The hardcover is going to run you about $16; a Kindle edition is $10.

We3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely. Go pick it up.

Hellboy: House of the Living Dead

This came out last year, and somehow I missed it entirely ’til just a couple months ago. It’s yet another installment in the always-enjoyable collaborations between writer and Hellboy creator Mike Mignola and horror-art legend Richard Corben. Even better, it’s a direct sequel to their glorious “Hellboy in Mexico” one-shot from a couple of years back.

Let’s look at some of the backstory here: in the 1950s, Hellboy spent time in Mexico, drinking and fighting vampires with three brothers who were luchadores — masked Mexican wrestlers. But one of the brothers was turned into a vampire, and Hellboy was forced to destroy him in a wrestling bout in an ancient Aztec temple surrounded by zombies — and the guilt sent him into the bottle for several years. This is a story from that era of Hellboy’s history.

So Hellboy is now supporting himself and his drinking habit by wrestling as a luchadore himself. He’s visited by a man who offers him the chance to wrestle his employer’s champion — and if Hellboy refuses, he’ll kill an innocent girl. And Hellboy soon finds himself dealing with a genuine mad scientist, his genuine crazed hunchbacked assistant, and a genuine Frankenstein monster — who Hellboy must defeat to save the girl. And even if he can stop the monster — which isn’t guaranteed — he’ll also have to deal with a werewolf, vampires, and demons before the night is through.

Verdict: Thumbs up. An excellent story, action-packed, funny, melancholy, and crammed to the gills with everything you’d want in a Halloween comic. Mignola claims to have never watched any of the classic Mexican luchadore-vs.-monster movies, but what he’s created here is at least as good — you’ve got spooky stuff from all the monsters and ghosts, but you’ve also got a massive dose of atmosphere by setting it back in 1950s Mexico — earthy, poverty-stricken, traditional, and largely focused on luchadores.

Corben’s art is, as always, phenomenal — beautiful as the innocent Sonia, depraved as the mad Tupo, gruesome as the stitched-together brute, menacing as the revitalized vampire and his brides — he even manages pure simple blandness in the dimly obedient Raul. It’s at turns gorgeous and brutal, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to.

It’s a grand comic, perfect for Halloween or any time you need awesome monsters and luchadores to get through your day. It’s definitely worth picking up — go bug your local shop for it.

Green River Killer: A True Detective Story

Is it a horror story? Is it a crime thriller? It’s a little of both, but more than anything else, this is a police procedural.

“Green River Killer” was written by Jeff Jensen and illustrated by Jonathan Case. Jensen is actually writing about his own father, Tom Jensen, a detective in the King County Sheriff’s Office in Washington state. Detective Jensen spent a good chunk of his career on the hunt for the infamous Green River Killer, and when the murderer was finally unmasked as a schlub named Gary Leon Ridgway, Jensen became part of the team working to identify as many of his victims as possible. To do that, as part of a plea agreement, Ridgway was given temporary housing inside the sheriff’s office in hopes of getting him to lead detectives to more bodies.

What follows is vastly frustrating for the detectives — Ridgway’s career as a serial killer spanned decades, and he simply wasn’t able to remember many details about all the women he’d killed. He said he wanted to help, but Jensen and the other investigators wondered if he was really a low-IQ mook with a bad memory or if he was just playing them for fools in hopes of getting away with his crimes.

We’re essentially dealing with two protagonists in this book. One is, obviously, Detective Jensen, devoting years of his life to hunting down and trying to understand one of history’s worst serial killers. But the other is Gary Ridgway himself, though few people would want to identify with him. Yeah, he’s a killer and necrophiliac who confessed to over 70 murders, he’s a complete sad-sack loser, dull-witted, pointlessly angry, a moral hypocrite on multiple levels — but you still identify with him to some degree, because he doesn’t know why he killed all those people either.

Granted, Ridgway isn’t a very likeable protagonist, but our natural empathy leads us to sympathize with him on a human level — and that leads to a few minor scares on its own — every time you feel a twinge of sympathy for Ridgway, for his fears and sorrows and stupid motivations, you wonder why on earth you’re identifying with this monster. Detective Jensen, thankfully, is a much more enjoyable character — smarter, funnier, more personable, more emotionally involved in the mysteries he’s charged with solving.

It’s not all murder and cop talk, though — there are lots of great human moments with the Jensen family or with the other officers. One of my favorite moments is when Jensen has to pass a physical exam to remain on the force — he has to subdue a fellow officer posing as a bank robber — a serious task for a middle-aged, out-of-shape detective. So Detective Jensen asks the officer to pretend he’s one of those nice bank robbers who won’t hurt him too badly. A great, funny moment — and it’s one of many that Jensen and Case use to break up the seriousness of the story.

Verdict: Thumbs up. It’s a wonderfully-told cop story — really, a wonderfully-told human story, with massive amounts of empathy and understanding for the police, the victims, and even the killer himself. Beautifully written by Jeff Jensen, with great dialogue, and the art by Jonathan Case is precise, emotional, and charismatic.

Don’t think it’s all cop talk and quiet moments — there are some very chilling moments. The discoveries of bodies in various states of decay are often presented shockingly and frighteningly, Ridgway’s accounts of how he killed his victims and what he did to them afterwards will make your skin crawl, and the prologue, featuring Ridgway’s first murder attempt, is a masterpiece of suspense and fear.

This is a winner if you like serial killer stories, if you like crime thrillers, if you like police procedurals, if you like slice-of-life memoirs. Go pick it up.

Richard Stark’s Parker: The Score

Wow, I had no idea this was coming out ’til I got to the store last week — a brand new Parker graphic novel by Darwyn Cooke. Set me back more than I was expecting, but it was worth every penny.

What do we have here? If you’re new, there was a mystery writer named Donald Westlake, and while writing under his pen-name of Richard Stark, he came up with this guy named Parker, a cold-hearted conscience-free bastard who specializes in heists. He doesn’t like to kill but he’ll do it if he has to — and he sure won’t feel bad about it afterwards. Darwyn Cooke got Westlake’s blessing not long before he died to turn some of the Parker novels into graphic novels, and this is the third in the set.

It’s 1964, and Parker is brought in during the planning stages of a job he has some serious doubts about. It’s being organized by an amateur named Edgars, he thinks the job may need 30 people to pull off, and he wants to rob an entire town — the small mining town of Copper Canyon, North Dakota. Though several of his more trusted associates are interested in it, Parker is inclined to nix the entire job — until he’s convinced that with the right planning, it could actually be possible.

The rest of the book focuses on Parker and his 12-man team of crooks as they make preparations for the heist, then follows them as they effortlessly and perfectly pull the job off. Wait, did I say effortless and perfect? Nope, something big goes wrong, and Parker has to salvage his team and the money so they can all make their escape.

Verdict: Oh, you know it’s a thumbs up.

Let’s talk art. Well, it’s got Darwyn Cooke doing the art, so you know it’s gonna look awesome. An interesting change for this book — instead of the black and blue ink of the previous two novels, this one is done with black ink and orange ink. Does a lot to make the book look hotter and more distant from the city. It does a lot to this story — so much more over-the-top than the previous ones — to make it pop off the page. It’s great art, but we knew that going in, didn’t we?

Writing-wise, there’s lots of good stuff here — good characterization for almost everyone, with several of the bandits getting their own sections of the story all to themselves as we get to learn more about them, why they rob, what they love doing. We get a nice long bit with Grofield, the charismatic, wise-cracking actor, and it’s great fun. We even see some of Parker we never knew about before, particularly the fact that, when dealing with hostages, he drops his cold persona and uses simple psychology to keep people calm and cooperative.

My one complaint was that, for all the planning that got done before the heist, no one ever stopped to consider who Edgars was and why he wanted the town robbed. He admitted at the beginning that it was personal, but once everyone started thinking about that quarter-million-dollar payoff, everyone forgot about that loose end. Of course, if they hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been much of a story, but I may have said too much now, right?

It’s a good book. No, it’s a fantastic book, one that you’re going to absolutely love reading. Go pick it up.

Cow Boy: A Boy and His Horse

Here’s a nice little graphic novel that was previewed in Archaia’s awesome mini-hardcover Free Comic Book Day collection a few weeks back. I wasn’t sure that it’d ever make its way down to Denton, but I was able to grab hold of it last weekend, so let’s give it a whirl.

It’s an all-ages Western, written by Nate Cosby and illustrated by Chris Eliopoulos, with a few short mini-features by Roger Langridge, Brian Clevinger, Scott Wegener, Mike Maihack, and Colleen Coover.

It’s the story of a ten-year-old boy named Boyd Linney, who’s out roaming the Wild West all by himself. Boyd is a bounty hunter, dedicated to capturing his own family, all notorious outlaws and scallywags, and bringing them to justice. His only allies are a horse and his Horse — a hobby horse that he’s converted into a shotgun.

So we get to watch Boyd go after his own criminal kin, including his sad-sack father, his low-down brother, and more besides. We get a look at his awful childhood, as his rotten relations made his sleep in the pig pen. We get to watch him accidentally make a man’s life worse by defending him from bullies. We get to watch him foil crooked lawmen, and we get to see him have a few fleeting moments of happiness before he’s left on his own again.

Verdict: Thumbs up. Let’s talk about the art. Hopefully, y’all are familiar with Chris Eliopoulos by now — he’s got a simple, straightforward, cartoony style, which I’ve told y’all before is the best way to make a comic that’s both fun and emotional. There is nothing more hilarious than watching Boyd gruffly grumble his way through some outlandish feat of derring-do. There’s also nothing more heart-wrenching than watching him — or anyone else — choke back tears.

And there are tears a-plenty. This is an all-ages comic, but I think there’s a chance some kids may not be able to handle the emotional content, especially if they have abandonment issues or if they’re a bit clingy. On the other hand, other kids are going to be completely gleeful about the fantasy of a little kid roaming the Wild West and blowing up saloons. Buyer beware, parents — know your kids, read the book, decide if your young-uns will be okay with it.

For all the emotional heart-tugging, this is also a very funny comic, with buckets of humor both whimsical and more down-to-earth. There is also a wagon-load of action and thrills. And it’s a beautifully made book, a hardcover that’s just a joy to hold in your hands. Cosby, Eliopoulos, and Archaia have done an outstanding job with this one.

You may want to get it for your kids. You may want to get it just for you. But I do think you should go pick it up.

My Friend Dahmer

So once upon a time, there was this guy named Jeffrey Dahmer. You might’ve heard of him. Back in 1991, he got caught trying to abduct a guy in Milwaukee, and police found a human head in his refrigerator, along with human remains stored in barrels and various severed body parts scattered around his apartment. He’s one of the most notorious serial killers in history.

Back in ’91, there was an editorial cartoonist called Derf Backderf working for a paper in Cleveland. His wife, also a reporter at the paper, calls him, tells him about this serial killer they’ve arrested in Milwaukee, and drops a bomb on him — Backderf graduated from high school with the guy.

So Backderf spends a few years wrestling with the fact that he was friends with a future serial killer and eventually sits down, does a ton of research, and creates this graphic novel, “My Friend Dahmer,” a retelling of his interactions as a teenager with this kid who everyone laughed at and no one really understood.

Backderf and his circle of friends discovered Dahmer after he’d started impersonating a person with cerebral palsy and throwing fake epilectic fits to get attention. Dahmer was a stone freak, but his antics were amusing in the juvenile way we all enjoy when we’re in high school, and they encouraged him as much as they could, even calling themselves the “Dahmer Fan Club.” Backderf remembers him as a really strange kid, sometimes disturbing, usually harmless, often depressing. He drank heavily in high school — a fact that a number of students were aware of, but that every teacher apparently missed — hiding beer and hard liquor around the school grounds so he’d always be able to sneak out and find something to drink.

Ultimately, it’s a really sympathetic portrait of Dahmer. Not to say that it’s entirely Dahmer-positive — Backderf says more than once that Dahmer is a kid he feels tremendous sympathy and empathy for — but that goes away when he crosses the line into murder. But Backderf knew Dahmer as a sad, strange kid with parents struggling through mental health issues and a very nasty divorce. Dahmer wanted attention, like a lot of kids, he was darkly funny, like a lot of kids, and he was conflicted when he realized he was gay, like a lot of kids. Of course, not a lot of kids also realize they’re necrophiliacs and have to struggle with urges to do violence to others. But even then, Backderf recognizes that Dahmer went through a very stressful high school career and kept himself together — admittedly with huge doses of alcohol — until after graduation.

Backderf says that he thinks Jeff Dahmer, the disturbed teenager, could have been saved if only the adults in his life had paid closer attention to him and cared enough to get involved. We’ll never know for sure, of course, but that doesn’t do anything to make this book any less fascinating.

Verdict: A very big thumbs up. This is a pretty thick book, and I burned through it as fast as I could, including the section detailing Backderf’s research and notes. Backderf’s writing about Dahmer is captivating and humanizing in all the best ways — this isn’t something that glorifies a serial killer, but instead asks us to look at how the serial killer was created, at Dahmer’s depressingly rotten youth, at all the ways this kid was failed by the grownups who were supposed to be helping him.

The setting is also pretty amazing — Revere High School in West Allis, Ohio in the mid- to late-1970s is a great backdrop for all of this to happen. Locked-down schools, zero tolerance, and No Child Left Behind were 20-30 years in the future, and the book is both stereotypically ’70s-ish and simultaneously timeless — we’ve all felt this way about school, we’ve all been freaked out by our adolescent hormones, we’ve all wondered whether we’d survive to get out of school and wondered what happened to the people we used to hang with.

This isn’t a horror story, at least not in the traditional sense. If you read it hoping for blood and gore and psycho killer mayhem, you’re going to be very disappointed. If we can call it horror at all, it’s more a matter of the horror of how one person can go from being a pretty normal kid to the kind of lunatic who’d kill 17 people.

Reading this book made me think a lot about all the people I knew in junior high and high school who were the Class Freaks. If I’m being honest with myself, I think there’s a pretty good chance that I was one of the Class Freaks myself. And we’ve all known the Class Freaks at our own schools — the kids who don’t fit in, the kids with weird senses of humor, who just aren’t sociable enough, who looked funny and were easy to target. Of course, most of the Class Freaks graduate, mellow out, get responsible jobs, and get normal families. Jeffrey Dahmer — and his 17 victims — had the bad luck to be the exception that proves the rule.

“My Friend Dahmer” by Derf Backderf. It’s a heck of a good story, and I think you should read it. Go pick it up.