Preacher was a fun read, but Promethea is, so far, something special: there are trappings of present-disguised-as-dystopian-near-future, reminiscent of The Dark Knight Returns,
and done wittily and well, but there’s also an achingly deep sadness at
its core which pokes its way through “the immateria” — and each of the
lessons which have so far been handed to our heroine by those who have
embodied the titular essence before her are heavy with loss — lost
love, lost innocence, lost child, lost life…
There’s something here which parallels the other Alan Moore work I’ve read recently, Lost Girls,
which also has much to do with the often tragic collision between
reality and imagination. That, albeit in much more — no other way to
put it — pornographic language* — I certainly blushed! Hard to
believe it was just sitting out in the library stacks.
But! Back to Promethea. I hope the rest of it lives up to
the first, because I will be very sad panda if not. I wouldn’t mind
finding out more about Roger, of the Five Swell Guys, either:
*long story short: Dorothy Gale, Wendy Darling, and Alice (late of
Wonderland) meet up at an Austrian hotel on the eve of the Great War.
Much Sex — nearly 300 pages of the hardbound, slipcased variety —
Ensues. If you have any sensitivity to … well, just about anything, up
to and including incest and seeing Peter Pan’s little “lost boy” in the
flesh, you’ll leave it at that.