Sweet Tooth Volume 1 review

Mad Science, and Mike Mignola’s Missing Sperm

If you’ve ever fantasized about surreptitiously stealing biological samples from Bill Willingham, Mike Mignola, and Cormac McCarthy in an effort to create a bold new breed of deranged comics creator (and let’s face it, who hasn’t?) then you need not fantasize any longer. Some genius of a mad scientist (OK, technically mad engineer) has apparently done just that, and this creation’s name is Jeff Lemire. It lives in Toronto, of all places.

The real deal here is that this guy Jeff Lemire has reputedly been turning out little slices of artistic and literary excellence for the last few years, with off-beat left-field hits like The Nobody and Essex County, under DC’s Vertigo label. With oddball hits like Fables and Y: The Last Man under their belt, Vertigo are continuing to prove themselves one of the most exciting imprints in the comics business, and it looks they may have found another rising star with Jeff.

So, hearing the buzz, and trusting Vertigo’s reputation, even if I didn’t know much about this guy, I decided to give Sweet Tooth a look. It helps that the art style is eye catching, and the cover price for the first volume is a measly ten dollars. I’ve paid more for food poisoning.

What’s This Here Comic Thingy All About Then?

As I’ve already sort of hinted, this thing reads like a strange cross between Hellboy and The Road. The short premise is that the world, or at least the bit that matters to the hero, has been ruined by some unspecified disaster (a “bright flash” is the only real description we’ve had), which happened a few years before the story begins. Since the disaster, there have been children born as ‘hybrids’, mutants with animal traits. One of these hybrids is Gus, a nine year old boy, who was apparently born a few years before the disaster, though we’re later told that this shouldn’t even be possible. Clearly, something about Gus is special.

It is, of course, a premise that you’ve heard a hundred times before. That’s OK, because Jeff isn’t so much recycling a tired idea as he is reclaiming it. This much abused and poorly treated premise has been delivered into the hands of a gentle and caring man, who has finally given it the respect it deserves.

Words, Words, Words, Ain’t Got No Use For Words

What captivates you about Sweet Tooth, from the first page, is the incredibly tight dialogue work. In the medium of comics, it’s impossible to underestimate the importance of good dialogue; you can tell a great story, and you can have great art but in between those two things it’s the dialogue that makes us the turn the pages. It’s the dialogue that opens up the characters to the reader and creates the substance of the story.

This particular story is narrated by Gus, a back-country bumpkin who was raised in a tiny log cabin by his father, and has never even seen another human being. His charming innocence, in the face of obviously dire circumstances, is what makes Gus so immediately engaging. He’s a smart boy, but lacking in education, and sweet natured without ever seeming like a paragon of virtue. The story quickly pairs him off with Jeppard, an old man who is none of the things that Gus is. Jeppard is hardened, wise, dangerous, and violent, something like a post-apocalyptic Frank Castle, or Saul Tai.

Finally, we have Gus’ father, something of a gentle mad man, slowly rotting in body and mind from the effects of whatever this “bright flash” was. His obvious love for his son is buried somewhere in the derangement that has gripped him, and in the paranoia that may well have kept them both alive.
All these characters, and others besides, are well drawn, and instantly engaging. Lemire works in light strokes, keeping the story moving swiftly, and letting the richness of his dialogue convey the characters. The writing is lean, tight, and utterly compelling.

On The Road, Again

Obviously Gus’ isolated life in the woods doesn’t last for long. The story, such as it is, involves Jeppard taking Gus to a supposed sanctuary known as “The Preserve”, which we are repeatedly told is nothing but a myth.

Plot wise, this first volume is pretty light weight. Like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road the point is not to fill the story with convoluted plot twists, but rather to express the tone of this apocalyptic landscape, with a series of encounters that slowly expand Gus’ outlook on the world.

There are hints of something more at work, but only hints. Those who like to be constantly surprised by new plot twists may likely find Sweet Tooth a little thin on the ground; it’s more interested in building ambiance and exploring character than it is in throwing us curveballs (both of which are worthy things for a story to do, depending on what you’re looking for).

All Dem Purdy Pitch-Choors

For most people, Sweet Tooth’s art is going to be the real “love it or hate it” factor. Lemire’s style (and let’s face it, all respect to the man for being one of those rare creators who can handle both writing and drawing duties solidly) is at best off-beat, and at worst could be called downright ugly, depending on your tastes.

The thing is, I’m fairly certain this ugliness is deliberate.  Somewhere around halfway through the first issue we’re treated to a splash page of Gus facing off against a deer that’s stunningly well drawn.  That Lemire has serious artistic talent cannot be doubted; his bold shadowing gives an appropriately bleak and chilling look to the world, and there’s something about his misshapen characters that works very well with the strange mix of fairy-tale innocence and brutal unpleasantness that suffuses the story. The effect is enhanced by excellent work from veteran colourist Jose Villarrubia, who has previously provided colours for Alan Moore’s Promethea and Warren Ellis’ Desolation Jones. Here, he uses a mix of earthy tones and slightly cartoonish pastels that add an incredible richness to Lemire’s line work.

At times, it almost seems as if the artwork is a child’s drawing, as if this is how Gus would draw his own story. It’s a remarkably strong fusion of narration and visuals, and it can really suck you in.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes the awkwardness of the art-style is just downright off-putting. In particular, a fight scene in the second issue stood out as being painfully clumsy. Lemire tries to pull of some tricks with circular red highlights around injuries and impacts that don’t so much create a sense of motion as they do the impression of a fight scene enacted as a Powerpoint presentation.

That’s a shame, because some of the later action sequences are really strong. The hell for leather run-and-gun sequence that closes off the first volume is particularly slick, captured in a fragmented style that much better suits the dreamy, fairy-tale qualities of the book.

The Last Word, And That’s Final

The verdict? If you haven’t cottoned on already, in spite of a few faults, and an art style that many readers may struggle to enjoy at first, Jeff Lemire’s Sweet Tooth is a stunning little gem that you really do need to be reading. As I’ve already mentioned, the first volume, ‘Out of The Woods’, can be had for a paltry ten dollars, and you can’t say no to a deal like that. Step on down to your local comic book store and pick up a copy as soon as you get the chance.

(Ed. Note: We just want to welcome Peter aboard. The last email I got from him mentioned his plan to replenish his comic stock, so we hope to see more from him soon. Also, I have to agree 100% with his assessment of Sweet Tooth. Worth the $10 and then some.)