Convergence: The Question #1 (DC)

writer: Greg Rucka

artist: Cully Hamner

Arguably the best Convergence comeback is Greg Rucka, who returns to DC after years away, having once been one of the most significant writers for the company, a status forever immortalized in the pages of 52, where he transformed Renee Montoya into the Question.

A journey he once again continues, and who needs Convergence itself to get in the way?  Rucka doesn't seem to even sweat it.  He merely picks up where he left off.  And apparently, so the recap at the back of the issue suggests, I missed where that was.  Yeah, I had stopped reading Rucka's Montoya after a while.  I guess I got tired of waiting for DC to pull the trigger and make it an ongoing series already.

Montoya's journey began in the pages of Gotham Central, which led directly to 52, which led directly to Crime Bible, which led to a feature in Detective Comics concerning the Mark of Cain business referenced in this latest follow-up.

Of course, by the final page, Batwoman shows up.

The artist is Cully Hamner, another veteran I apparently gotten around to making a label out of previously, so here's his first mention at Comics Reader.

Convergence: Nightwing/Oracle #1 (DC)

writer: Gail Simone

artist: Jan Duursema

This Convergence spin-off hearkens back to Chuck Dixon's Nightwing and Birds of Prey, and the days when Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon seemed like they were always on the verge of a full-blown relationship.

That's great and all, but Dick has actually had a lot of those relationships.  Another of them was with Huntress, which is playing out again in the pages of Grayson.

What to make of seeing the Nightwing/Oracle version arguably for the first time playing out in its own spotlight, which is the real story here?  The writer is Gail Simone, who has a loyal fan following, which I'm not so much a part of, because she tends to lose focus after excellent starts.  For a two-issue series she ought to have every reason to stay sharp, so I'm not worried about Simone.  She puts the focus on Babs, the once and future Batgirl, who provides the voice for the captions.  By the end of the issue, Babs seems to have completely reversed herself, revealing her full hackers' fury.  But the thing is, the whole story also spotlights why her relationship with Dick has never worked.  Which is disappointing?  Because isn't Convergence supposed to be an orgasm of wish-fulfillment?  Except maybe Simone gets it exactly right.  There's still one more issue, after all.

The recap of previous Dick/Babs moments reads like a true hodgepodge connecting dots that are not necessarily there.  Which is perhaps why something like this comic was necessary after all.

Convergence: Batman and Robin #1 (DC)

writer: Ron Marz

artist: Denys Cowan

Convergence has an interesting wrinkle above and beyond the mini-series itself, and that's all the spin-off titles, which function part much the way DC has put together other comics in the past, most recently the Retroactive one-shots exploring various titles by decade.

This one spotlights Grant Morrison's Batman and Robin, which at once is a little odd, considering that of all the eras given this honor Batman and Robin until Convergence was technically still ongoing under the auspices of Peter Tomasi.  Yet Morrison's run was distinctive (much as you would expect from any Grant Morrison effort).

Which is to say, the period when Damian Wayne was Robin, and you didn't have to worry about whether or not he was dead, about to become dead, or returned from the dead, as pretty much all of his New 52 stories have revolved around.

Which is to say, the Damian who can be impetuous, is in fact known for being impetuous.  But, you know, still Batman's son, and Robin to boot.

Which is also odd, mind you, because the majority of Morrison's Batman and Robin actually saw Damian working alongside Dick Grayson's Batman, not his own father's.  Putting that aside, Damian has been such a brilliant character since his introduction, seeing him in any context is always a pleasure, regardless of how unruly he is.  Along for the ride is also Jason Todd, popping up in his guise as Red Hood, making this a callback to not just Morrison's comics but the Judd Winick era in Batman, which preceded Damian.  And that's not even the Convergence battle that must inevitably happen!

The writer is Ron Marz, who was actually well-known for his Green Lantern.  He's one of several creators making a welcome return, and he doesn't waste the opportunity.  The artist is Denys Cowan, who does his typically excellent work.  I can't believe I haven't created a Denys Cowan label already.  I guess my collection grows, and he's a welcome addition.

Each Convergence spin-off also has a recap feature at the back of the issue detailing relevant developments from the era it's depicting.  This one follows Damian's adventures through Batman Incorporated: Leviathan Strikes!, which was the last issue of the series before the eventual New 52 reboot that was one long march to Damian's death and its immediate aftermath (later continued in the pages of, well, Batman and Robin).

Convergence # 0 & 1 (DC)

writer: Jeff King, Dan Jurgens (#0), Scott Lobdell (#1)

artist: Ethan Van Sciver (#0), Carlo Pagulayan (#1)

Here it is!  The big DC event that finally brings back the pre-New 52 landscape.  All of them!

And yeah, Marvel is doing something remarkably similar in its new Secret Wars, and yeah, it's another multiverse story, which DC has done many, many times, even yeah, Marvel has made a considerable splash, too, with the whole Spider-Verse concept.

But this is pretty awesome.  And yeah, there are shades of DC vs. Marvel, too, pitting different realities against each other, but none of that particularly matters.  What matters is DC doing what it always does and usually getting little to no recognition for it: paying homage to its own past.  Not in the way Marvel does.  For Marvel, the past is directly connected to the present, even though Marvel finds creative ways around how that past is usually ignored or subverted without being outright replaced.  For DC, it's a matter of history being built on, usually at the expense of that history (so fans like to complain), but constantly acknowledging it.

Which is to say, Convergence owes Crisis On Infinite Earths a huge debt, just as Crisis owes "The Flash of Two Worlds."  And without Infinite Crisis there would be no Convergence.  And you need Final Crisis in that sequence.  And you need Zero Hour.  And so on.

What does Convergence do differently?  Well, for one, it's not really part of that sequence.  It is, in that DC has finally stopped worrying about competing realities.  That's what Crisis was all about, trying to end any such debates.  And then Infinite Crisis said it wasn't such a problem after all.  And then Final Crisis opened the doors for finding out how much fun it really can be.

But it starts a new narrative.  This one involves an existing concept, being Brainiac, the Collector of Worlds, who has long gone about the business of creating bottle cities to preserve specimens.  Now we have Telos, who is kind of like the keeper of those specimens, an intermediary in the tradition of the Monitors and Watchers, only this time condensed and not held back by a stance of noninterference.

What he comes equipped with is threats.  He states at the outset that if anyone attempts to subvert the rules, he will put an immediate end.  He wants fights.  He wants a sole survivor.  Of course, the individual spin-offs will flirt with subverting the rules all over the place.  How Telos deals with that will likely play out in the pages of Convergence itself.

In a way, Convergence mainlines the idea of comic book limbo first introduced by Grant Morrison in Animal Man.  Where DC is saying that old ideas don't really go away (which technically was done long ago with the Justice Society, who began as contemporaries of Superman but beginning with "Flash of Two Worlds" became something else), this isn't just a multiverse story, it's dealing with the direct consequences of having all this in-house competition and dramatizing it in the most direct way possible.

Lead writer Jeff King is new to comics, and so DC has paired him with a couple of veterans to pull this off.  In the preview issue, this means Dan Jurgens, and it has a true Jurgens flavor as a result, very straightforward storytelling, Superman confronting Brainiac and not being a happy camper and whatnot.  The first issue is with Scott Lobdell, meanwhile, and regardless of what fans tend to think about Lobdell, this means more intricate storytelling, flowing directly from the events of Earth 2: World's End (neither King nor Lobdell, mind you, had anything to do with that one).

Likewise on art there's a tale of two styles.  The Ethan Van Sciver who shows up in #0 actually is not a particularly ideal Superman artist.  The rest of the issue shows excellent work, though.  Carlo Pagulayan, meanwhile, is an ideal selection for #1.  He has a nice, clean, all-encompassing approach.

Also well-worth reading are the references to relevant comics at the back of each issue.

Batman and Robin #40, Annual #3 (DC)

writer: Peter J. Tomasi

artist: Patrick Gleason (#40), Juan Jose Ryp (#3)

Perfect final page, Tomasi.  This is an unusual farewell, spread across two unrelated comics, with the perfect ending coming without his signature collaborator and in a story that otherwise is complete throwaway material.  But still, he absolutely nails it.

The final issue of the series itself, with Patrick Gleason, who will soon launch Robin, Son of Batman as writer/artist, concludes the grand arc of Damian's return, which surprisingly came complete with superpowers, which proved to be less than permanent.  And they go out with a bang, and for once Batman pulls one over on his son, an appropriate moment in an arc that saw him desperately defy death itself, when he felt most powerless.

The final two pages of this final issue are perfect, too, by the way.  Batman is smiling.

The annual is "just" a Batman and Robin adventure.  This might be the only time in the whole run (which actually began pre-New 52, so there are those issues to consider as well, which technically negates this statement) where this happens.  But putting that aside, there's that final page, and apropos of nothing in the actual issue, it speaks volume for the run.

Damian's presence in Batman's life has filled a massive void, a true family that he hasn't had since the death of his parents, which has always been reflected in the pearls spilling from the necklace Martha Wayne wears on that fateful night.  In one of the best characters moments, in a run full of them, Damian went to a great deal of trouble to reclaim one of those pearls for his father.

It may go without saying, even on an artistic level, having Batman and Robin focusing on a nocturnal phenomenon is evocative on a different and complementary level.

And this goes without saying too: Peter Tomasi will be greatly missed in Damian, and Batman's, adventures.

Batman: Eternal #52

writer: James Tynion IV

artist: many, many artists

Batman: Eternal turns out to be a kind of attempt to broaden the impact of Scott Snyder's Batman, stretch out the sketch that's emerged in the pages of the New 52 Batman without having to actually take out the required space in the pages of the series itself and various related titles, the way it would have been done years ago, irrespective of the crossovers Snyder's run has initiated.  What I mean is, Eternal is basically the "No Man's Land" etc. of the Snyder era.

And it kind of exposes Snyder's limits all over again.

He lacks the ability to deliver a truly killer punch (too often, he's let Greg Capullo do that for him).  Never mind that Eternal was a full collaborative effort.  I don't put the blame on James Tynion, who has been working with Snyder throughout the New 52 era.

Snyder has been doggedly chasing after other people's legacies.  The page I include here reflects Bane in "Knightfall," but less famously it even echoes Nobody, a character Peter Tomasi created in the pages of the New 52 Batman and Robin, for the excellent and defining "Born to Kill" arc that kicked off that series.

As usual, Snyder has once again circled around back to his Court of Owls, which also featured the idea of Batman being overwhelmed and looking like he's defeated before coming out victorious one way or another.  I get that this is a storytelling trope in general, but Snyder has done himself no favors by continuously returning to it.  (Even Grant Morrison did this, but he knows scope.)

I want to like Snyder.  I see flashes of brilliance that confirm the hype, how the whole Court concept has etched itself into the annals of Batman classics.  And if anything, Eternal should confirm it.  After all, the whole idea boils down to someone attempting to expose Batman as just a man.

Maybe the rest of the series sold the idea far better than the final issues does.  But here it comes off as limp, and of course that's what I'm saying about Snyder's whole approach.  He has big ideas but can never really pull them off.  Writers like that are legion, and they beg for collaborators.  Just not ones like Tynion.  Again, this is not a knock on Tynion, but rather to say that Snyder needs someone to drag him to greater heights.  At times he seems to have completely understood this.  His partnership with Kyle Higgins, for instance, greatly improved both of them.  I also fully believe that without Stephen King, American Vampire would never have happened, certainly not the way it has developed.

Clearly a lot of people disagree with me.  I'm not troubled by this.  I want to see better from Scott Snyder.

Avengers: Millennium #1 & 2 (Marvel)

writer: Mike Costa

artist: Carmine Di Giandomenico

I've been a big fan of Mike Costa since discovering him in the pages of IDW's Cobra comics, where he's recently returned in the pages of G.I. Joe: Snake Eyes, Agent of Cobra.  The only downside in Costa's brilliant career is that he can't seem to connect with other material the way he has G.I. Joe.

A certain amount of that opinion has to do with my admittedly limited attempts to actually read that other material.  Yet my personal track record holds the opinion to be, at least for me, reasonably accurate.  When DC launched the New 52, Costa wrote Blackhawks, a military series that for all intents and purposes was a mainstream version of the work that had made him a name in the business.  And yet, he chose, or perhaps was mandated, to approach Blackhawks differently than he has Cobra.  (Which is to say, maybe this is one of those matters about creative freedom.)  In the pages of Jonathan Hickman's God Is Dead, which Costa has been writing for most of its run, there's not much of the Cobra vibe, either.

All the same, when I saw Avengers: Millennium listed, I was excited all over again.  This is a self-contained limited series.  Surely more room for the authentic Mike Costa to breathe?  To a certain extent, it seems.  And again, maybe it's just me, pigeon-holing the guy.

The page I included here is the second one from the first issue, and for two pages I saw exactly the Mike Costa I like so much, a writer fully engaged in a character, their particular nature fully on display.  And then, for the remainder of the two issues thus far released, he just kind of does Avengers Adventure Time.  Which isn't so bad, but it's not what I want to see from Mike Costa, specifically.

Most of these issues is also dedicated to the wacky banter of Hawkeye and Spider-Man.  This is nice to see, in a way, because it certainly broadens the scope of what Costa could be known for, but it also instantly limits him in a way.  Spider-Man has a way of swallowing writers whole, the ones who let their guard down.  Deadpool happened because Rob Liefeld, basically, let his guard down.  Deadpool is Spider-Man without any of the angst.  It's just wacky banter all the time, and stories attempting to reflect that.  Some writers can make sense of that.  Others can't.  Spider-Man is riding a wave of popularity at the moment because Dan Slott was able to focus more than writers tend to, without getting all mopey and woe-is-me (Spidey is basically manic-depressive, kind of like Daredevil), but a lot of what Slott did to make Spidey popular was the gimmick route that led to Spider-Verse.  Slott ended up taking the Geoff Johns approach, what Johns did on Green Lantern for nine years, event after event, except Spidey has more limited possibilities for such things than Green Lantern, so you get things like "Spider-Island" and what I always like to call Doctor Spider-Man, which was another character taking on the role, surely a comics staple, but in this instance more like when Ed Brubaker brought back Bucky, a genius character move.

...I feel like I have massively digressed.  Anyway, this is to say, I hope I see more of the Mike Costa I know and love in Avengers: Millennium, but even if I don't at least this time I'm committed to the experience one way or another.