I love Saga books. I just don’t know what the point of them is anymore. It once left off on a bitter note, then took years to regroup and come back, and I’ve not been able to ascertain why besides the obvious reason: commercial.
And maybe it’s because I don’t like soap operas. I really don’t: Saga is the only one I ever did. Or because I don’t like serials: I don’t, with few minor exceptions here and there. I understand the concept of getting emotionally involved with characters over the years and the appeal of being able to follow their trajectory (seemingly indefinitely), but there doesn’t seem to be much point to it, plus, honestly, it just seems kind of lazy of the creators. And the creators here are so talented: a great storyteller and an amazing artist. They can do whatever they like, instead of spinning the same yarn over and over again into inevitable nothingness. It’s lazy of readers too, to stick with the same story, instead of finding more. There’s more art, skill, originality, and creativity in standalones. And yet, it goes on. Even I’m guilty of it, reading yet another volume of Saga. Because it’s quick and pretty and I do like the characters. And it is comforting to know what to expect. Let’s face it: Saga has thus far only shocked us once. It wasn’t nice. It did disservice to the series. And now it’s all the same, over and over again. A pretty, commercial vehicle, working the formula, hugging the curve tightly, never to return to its former greatness. And yet, for all that, a fun read.
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December 2023
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