#this is as much about alasdair as it is about me gushing about this thing chelsea and i have made <3

[bladewarde]

i mentioned in some distant headcanon that laera isn’t the type to be domestic -- and it’s not because she doesn’t enjoy the idea of committing to someone -- she absolutely does, but being settled makes her restless.

the only verse where this isn’t the case is a verse @has-opinions​​​ and i have been working on ( even tho it’s mostly chelsea’s, i just sort of hopped on in! ). it’s a loose historic verse based in 1300-1800s scotland where laera’s story hits most of the key points of her dnd backstory:

she’s a lowlander, born and raised in glasgow, that was assimilated into english culture ( as most of lowland scotland was ) but through their religious institution. she stayed there for twenty years, and her point of entry in reconnecting with her identity and learning about herself is through eilodh and alasdair macdonald. she also rebels against societal gender roles, and as a woman, knows how to use a sword, and use it well.

regardless of if laera is from their original timeline from the first war of scottish independence, or much later on post-culloden, they will always serve as the focal point of her navigating a world she didn’t have the chance to grow up in. 

needless to say, her relationship with alasdair developed naturally -- as easily and as close as she and eilodh -- yet with an unmistakable undercurrent of something romantic growing between them. his kindness, selflessness, worldliness, and strength captured laera in a fairy tale-like infatuation, and she fell in love with him.

her desire for stability and connectedness -- that extends to her culture, and inward, toward herself -- and likewise, her safety, to no longer feel the need to look over her shoulder... she’s at peace with alasdair. he makes her believe in, and want a life that’s beautiful, and she only wants with him. she is fully committed to the idea of being wed, and living out their lives together in the quiet peace of the highlands. unfortunately, though, it doesn’t come quite as easy as that, due to the macdonalds’ brush with ancient magics that gave them immortality, but part of the journey is overcoming obstacles, and for laera, to accept that they can still have a life together, albeit somewhat different. 

[preserving-ferretbrain]

The Best Post-Soviet Noir Superhero Comic Ever!

by Alasdair Czyrnyj

Monday, 19 April 2010 

Alasdair gushes about The Winter Men.~

I don't believe in superheroes. Let's get that straight right from the start. I have no problem conceptualizing a costumed vigilante or a human with supernatural powers; such things have been a staple of popular culture for generations now, and to reject them out of hand nowadays is absurd. My problem starts once you take those characters and imagine them as figures of omnipotence, as people who are always in command, always know the score, and always win in the end, and expect your audience to take them seriously.

I suppose this problem largely stems from the fact that the first superhero comic I seriously read was

Watchmen

. Say what you will about it, but to me it remains the best example of what happens when you take pulp archetypes, characters traditionally in command of their environments, and place them in the intractable, fractal-edged mess that is the real world. Existential despair is the mildest outcome; mass murder is not outside the realm of possibility. It's the reason why the two big mainstream comic universes are these weird places that have superficial similarities to our own, but swarming with Nazi scientists, psychotic CEOs, aliens, and alternate universes. It gives the superheroes something to fight that can be defeated and doesn't leave the bad taste of moral unease afterward.

Of course, rejecting the standard interpretation of superheroes has been old hat for nigh-on two decades. Of course, stories that go against the grain have their own particular problems. Most of the time, these stories just amp up the sex and ultraviolence while leaving various core aspects of superherodom (superheroes are beholden to nothing and no one, you can solve the world with your fists) unquestioned. (Case in point:

The Boys

.) There are a few good examinations, of course; from what I've heard of it, Alan Moore's run on

Miracleman

is a pretty good depiction of the superhero as a figure of terror and of the uncomfortable compromises that would be required to "save" the world, and Kurt Busiek's

Astro City

manages to rearrange and rethink well-worn tropes to create some genuinely moving stories.

Sometimes, though, reshuffling is not enough. To truly rethink the concept of the superhero, you need to leave the American heartland of superheroes altogether and travel somewhere else. To a place which has very different ideas about power and its limits. To a place that would interpret all-powerful humans far differently than European or American society would, and would have the technology and competence to enforce its interpretations.

To travel, in other words, to Russia.

This is the premise of

The Winter Men

, the barely-released critically acclaimed Wildstorm miniseries by Brett Lewis and artist Jean Paul Leon. It had one hell of a publication history; it first appeared way back in August 2005 advertising an eight-issue run, only to finally finish on its sixth issue in February 2009. It's a damned shame that this series received such shoddy treatment from Wildstorm, especially since

The Winter Men

is one of the best superhero series out there.

The story is set in Russia in late 2001, near the end of the twilight period between the collapse of the Russian banking industry in 1998 and the emergence of Putin's "sovereign democracy." In the opening pages, we are introduced to Kris Kalenov, our guide to this world, as is roused from the snowbank where he spent sleeping off the previous night's boozy activities. A former spetznaz, now a militiaman by title and poet by aspiration, his actual day job consists of managing disputes at the behest of Moscow's mayor between the various interests (business, foreign, domestic, civil, and otherwise) that inhabit the city. An encounter with an old army buddy lands him a dead-end case about an abducted girl who had just received a liver transplant from an unknown source. In short order, hints are dropped that other factors are interested in the fate of that little girl, and her connection to the recent seismic shifts in the balance of criminal power in Moscow. Veiled references are made to something called "winter," a word Kalenov is intimately familiar with and which the CIA (ostensibly in Moscow to assist the Russian authorities with the upheavals in the underworld) is nosing around in, despite their pig-ignorance of Russia in general. At the same time, old friends of Kalenov, ex-spetznaz buddies who also have a connection with "winter," begin to reappear in Kalenov's life too fast to be chalked up to mere coincidence. While Kalenov finds the girl in first few issues, it only serves to further deepen the mystery in Moscow, as well as ask questions about what, exactly, became of the Soviet superhero program, in particular one hero known only as The Hammer of the Revolution, a Captain America-type figure that disappeared decades ago under unclear circumstances.

I won't go any farther into the plot, simply because there's a lot of it to unpack and theorize about. Instead, I will withhold most spoilers and briefly explain what makes this comic great.

First of all,

The Winter Men

may be the Russianest comic I have ever read. The care to detail is obvious even in the basic technical details. Lewis' dialogue, by some minor miracle, manages to beautifully capture the odd cadences and subtle elaboration of Russian-translated English without drifting into Boris Badenov-type kludges or, God help us, Jonathan Safran Foer-type literary schmaltz. I don't know enough to judge whether all the slang is correct or not, but it reads far better that the efforts of most writers.

Additionally, the violence in the comic has a appropriate understatement. While modern American comics love their visceral blood and mutilation,

The Winter Men

takes a more restrained approach, with the occasional high-octane gun battle counterbalanced by the dull brutishness of two drunk friends brawling, or by simply implying violence between panels. While it may seem like a dodge, it actually fits in very well with the milieu. After all, in a society like post-communist Russia, where violence is often the easiest way to do things (or, more likely, the only method anyone has any patience for), pain and death are dealt out so often that the mind (and the comic) just tunes it out and relativizes it into utilitarian indifference.

The real achievement, however, is in Lewis' depiction of Russian society. As someone who spent most of his undergraduate career plowing through 20th century Russo-Soviet history, the one thing that has grown to irritate me more than anything is the way most Westerners think Russian society works. The implicit assumption is that Russian society is a pyramid, with a tsar/gensek/president at the top, a hierarchy supporting him, all of which oppresses a servile population, with all of society neatly divided into rulers and victims. The truth, one which Lewis faithfully portrays and weaves into the greater tapestry of the series, is that Russia is a series of networks, of people organized into cabals to defend certain interests (be they organized crime, soft drink distribution, city government, or what have you), all forever fighting and securing their own power bases, forever living in fear that someone more powerful will come after them. This is nothing new, of course; you can find something similar while reading Gogol, and that model pretty much sums up the state of the Soviet Union after Stalin died. In the end, much of the series, consists of Kalenov learning to read and navigate the various circles of official and unofficial Russian power, to understand the ultimate purpose of the upheavals.

Of course, some people like some networks better than others. There is a sort of dull nostalgia running through the book for the Soviet Union, though it is more wistful than motivational. Everyone knows the USSR will never come back, but there is a sort of vague sadness among the characters for that weird socialist empire, a sense of "it was not good, but it was ours, and now it's gone." Even Kalenov himself, never a socialist, comes across as a man who, unlike his army friends, never found himself a role he could play in the Yeltsinite world to replace his previous role as a spetznaz.

This finally brings us down to the big question: what about the Soviet superheroes? What about them? The answer which slowly emerges from snatches of conversation and the occasion infodump, is the height of irony and a slap in the face to most other so-called "realistic" superhero comics. In the Soviet Union of

The Winter Men

, superheroes were

irrelevant

. The great majority of them appeared as military projects in the later stages of the Soviet Union, consisting of either men flying around in big, clunky Iron Man suits (in a neat little nod to DC comics' continuity, the suits bear a close resemblance to the Rockets Red suits that serve as fodder for the JLA to smack around) or people with genetically modified organs. While some old propaganda early in the comic shows Soviet supermen tearing their way through the American hordes, their actual purpose is to counter the super-people being developed by another faction of the Soviet military-industrial complex, while those supermen that do serve in combat tend to die ingloriously. And the end of the day, despite being the only country on the planet with superpeople, there is little difference between the fictional Russia and the real one. Even the plot of the comic only deals with the metahuman aspect fleetingly for most of its run.

I won't say much about the ending save that it will almost certainly bring back memories of

Watchmen

. However, Lewis cleverly riffs on Moore's work rather than lifting it wholesale, with the end result feeling like a bizarre version of

Watchmen

set decades after the original where everyone save one very particular character is gone, and the battle is between a meticulous autocrat that dwells in a realm of pure decision and a child of the original heroes, fighting for reasons he doesn't bother to consciously understand. At the end of the day, there's no real closure, but as Kalenov himself says, "this is a Russian story."

The Winter Men

is not a flawless diamond. The noir storytelling does tend to get a little too convoluted for its own good, with revelations losing their impact because you don't recognize a certain background character from a previous book. The publishing history really hurts the narrative, with the third and final installments clearly reading like Lewis had to cram too much in at the last minute in order to tell his story.

Still, Lewis can be forgiven his compromises. There is much to love in

The Winter Men

, from the bombastic wordplay, to the clever composition of the panels, to the characters that breathe their native land, to superheroes that are as alien to us as the East is from the West. And to one, little line, near the end of the book, whispered by one dying man to another, that may be the only fitting epitaph to the Soviet experience any writer has come up with yet.

Read it. Now.Themes:

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Comics

~

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~Comments (

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)

Arthur B

at 09:40 on 2010-04-19Is there a trade paperback compilation of this? I can't abide buying individual issues of comics.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 17:03 on 2010-04-19Yep, it finally came out at the beginning of this year.

Here you go.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 17:18 on 2010-04-24Oh, and fun fact: about a day after this was posted, I got an email message from Brett Lewis, the creator of

The Winter Men

asking to friend me on Facebook.

And, yes, I know that this is the year 2010, when stuff like this doesn't mean any sort of deeper connection has been made. But one the other hand...

BRETT LEWIS READ MY REVIEW! AND HE LIKED IT! AND IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! YAAAAAY!!!!!

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http://fightsandtights.blogspot.com/

at 01:44 on 2010-04-25Great review, Alasdair, I'll definitely have to check this out. Jena Paul Leon is a big selling point for me; he did some awesome work on the Black Widow: Deadly Origin mini that was recently released by Marvel, and he really seems to portray Soviet-era Russia quite well. Certainly adding this to my wishlist...

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Wardog

at 11:32 on 2010-04-25Belated birthday grats :) YAAAAAY!

I have to admit, when authors inadvertantly stumble across my reviews I always over-think and second guess myself into a pit of angst.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 17:10 on 2010-04-26

I have to admit, when authors inadvertantly stumble across my reviews I always over-think and second guess myself into a pit of angst.

I usually prefer to dive into that pit of angst before I start writing, when I read all the other reviews other people have written and wonder how the hell I can match the insights of all those clever and smart people whoe are better than me in every way and

isuckisuckisuck

.

Then I write the whole thing in a three-hour frenzy a week later.