It’s nice when a person finds an idea, a way of life, really, that works for them. It’s obnoxious and tedious when they begin to proselytize it. And so, while on a personal level you can be easily thrilled for the author to find his groove with his ideology of hope, as a reader of his work it’s easy to be tired with it or get put off by it. Because outside of being super excited to share his ways with you, Remender is also a huge fan of laying it on thick, thick, thick, like Paula Deen and butter.
It’s possible he just isn’t that good of a writer, I’ve read his Seven to Eternity comics and wasn’t impressed either, but objectively he’s serviceable. It’s the message and his gung-ho ways of presenting it that are too much. There’s a profound imbalance in Low books, the art dramatically outshines the story. The art, while busy and liberally seasoned with gratuitous nudity, is complex and striking in its attention to detail. The art creates worlds. Remender just populates them. In book two the ridiculously young-looking baby mama Stel continues on her mission to the surface of the world while contending with various people and creatures populating the waters in-between her and the surface. We also get to find out the fate of one of her baby girls, now all grown up and murderous, working for the evil society that…surprise, surprise…persecutes hope. Because it’s all about hope. Actually, at first the story kind of eases up on it, but then Remender seems to notice this uncharacteristic subtlety and goes to get his soapbox, meaning the very end of this volume literally reads like something taken out of a self-help book. Oh boy. Go in for the art and consider the story secondary and the writing a distant third, if you must. It’s how I do it. It’s a quick read that should have been way more fun.
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