Duncan Fegredo

Have I ever told you that I like horror comics?

David is a top-class plastic surgeon. He's also got a problem or two. Both of these factors make him the perfect person to operate on Andrew Sphinx, a reclusive, eccentric painter who was one of the most famous artists on the planet several decades ago. He's ready for a new face, but when David and his wife, Rebecca (Beccy), arrive on the picturesque, private island, things get increasingly more dangerous and bizarre. The more we learn about show more David, the more we worry about his decision-making abilities. The more we learn about Beccy, the more we worry about her coming with. The more we learn about Andrew, the more we fear for everyone.

The art is perfect for the story. It looks like many of the Vertigo greats of the 90s. The generally muted color palette makes the few moments of vibrant fear and violence hit that much harder. Fegredo captures the unsettling and melancholic mood, but he also captures the tense and crazed moments of terror. The emotion of each scene feels distinct, and turning to the next page was often impactful before I even read a single word. There are some

I love how Milligan writes each character. David and Andrew are layered in a way that's never contrived; they reveal bits of their pasts in different ways that makes them fun to learn about. David's pseudo-catchphrase for the book is "Have I ever told you that ____?" These revelations are always told so nonchalantly, but they're often bombshells. Beccy is the only normal one there, and she grounds many of the conversations, but she's not perfect. There's also the butler, but he's more complicated than I'd like to delve into without spoilers. I will say that he's surprisingly excellent. I enjoyed how the book starts to slowly creep into madness, but it never stops once it gets going. You can tell things aren't going to end well, but it's not at all cliche despite the meta-narrative falling into place like a puzzle. It falls into place so flawlessly that even the characters involved push it in that direct exactly because it's so narratively sound. show less

This was a re-read, as I am now sure that I read 'Enigma' as a teenager, during my phase of reading every single graphic novel the library either had or could order. (This was before I had internet access, and therefore read during most of my waking hours.) I forgot it for years, but was reminded by Grant Morrison's wonderful book 'Supergods'. In this, he discusses 'Enigma' in detail, which piqued my interest. This graphic novel is now quite hard to get hold of, but I finally found a copy on show more eBay and read it last night at 3am.

'Enigma' is the tale of Michael Smith, a young guy with a very regimented, predictable life and a sad family background. His father died in an earthquake and his mother subsequently abandoned him while he was still a child. Michael's life is upended when weird supervillains like The Truth, The Head, and The Envelope Girl start terrorising the population, apparently having emerged from the pages of a short-lived comic series called 'The Enigma'. Then it all gets very postmodern. I'll say no more as I don't want to spoil it for you! Suffice it to say, I like how open to interpretation the final twist and ending are.

I remember enjoying this graphic novel the first time round, and definitely loved re-reading it. It's wonderfully weird and meta, but also genuinely sweet and moving. The fourth-wall-denying narration is a highlight, especially once you realise who is actually narrating. I like the art without adoring it, but truly love the evocative and beautiful colouring.

Grant Morrison says in his book that 'Enigma' was ground-breaking when first published in 1995, and I trust his word on this. It takes an angle on the superhero mythos that I haven't found anywhere else. I wish I'd written down my reaction to it as a teenager, as I think that's a very good point in life to read it. 'Enigma' is about identity (including sexual identity), about trying to understand who you are and what you want from life. As a teenager (and later, just less so!), this is all a huge ocean of mystery and confusion. It has much more interesting things to say than most graphic novels about superheroes that I've read. show less

This book comes across smug and self-interested, vapid and ultraviolent, just like its characters, and only then lets you under its brittle shell and convinces you against the odds to fall in love with it, and them. Not just "clever" as it first appears, but trenchant (also in the social commentary sense) and devastating. That's the writing; Allred's art is more just great throughout, though these days the exploded body parts and so on just seems to be a no go zone for me and explains why I show more don't want this book that I love on my shelf. show less

Well, I feel like a big dummy for damning Richard Corben with faint praise, 'cause he's EXTREMELY good here on the title story, which is maybe the most disturbing Hellboy yarn to date. The Blackbeard side story is just okay, but the others - a brief FCBD entry that I don't want to say too much about and a really nice, eerie Mignola short about a mysterious painter - are really great, and it's a shame they're not as long as The Crooked Man.