Danijel Zezelj

Once again Wood breaks with his previous storyline and instead collects a handful of standalone stories into one volume. Each has a very distinct flavour so it looks a little like he's trying to cover all the bases in one go.

I particularly liked the Shieldmaiden's story, since it explored the role of Viking women more than previous volumes were able to. These women are thrown into their warrior aspects seemingly by chance, but they prove that they can surprise (and beat) the almighty Romans show more with their intellect.

Less intriguing were the stories about Sven of Orkney (a familiar face) and the single combat warriors. Both were well written, but they also seemed a bit shallow on closer inspection; we've done the whole battle thing already. show less

Reading this is like twisting in the wind. I think that's exactly the emotion that the author and artist mean for you to feel—as if your feet are never firmly on the ground. When the story begins to feel grounded, you find yourself sliding into another story of Russia and America intertwined in the characters. All of them left bleeding by the overwhelming political immensity of the countries in which they live and the betrayal of those they love most.

The story is first-rate, with minor show more flaws. The end was odd. It didn't fit the pattern, but it was a jolt to end the story, and I liked it.

The art is also wonderful. Dreamy and dark, with harsh lines that fit the noir part of the story well. show less

I likely will be the only person mentioning Zora Neale Hurston’s THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD when reviewing this graphic novel, but it kept coming to mind. There is a passage at the heart of that wonderful book that describes humanity as once being one great glittering mass that jealous angels beat down into tiny bits of sparkle, buried and lost in the mud that still sing out and seek each other to be whole again. A lovely description of how we as humans clutch at many things to try and show more make ourselves whole, often to our own detriment—sometimes to our own destruction. The narrative of THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD takes the main character many places, but ultimately she ends up where she started—though wiser and stronger for the journey. In LUNA PARK, this circular pattern is repeated toward no good end for its characters. While Hurston’s work retains hope despite admitting a certain futility, LUNA PARK seems only to despair. The desperation that drives it’s characters to find each other creates a dark inescapable momentum that carries them past the finish line into another lap ‘round the track. The joy in this joyless world is in the vivid rendering of the journey—particularly the dark and lovely art work of Danijel Žeželj. The subtle distinctions that make each face unique—specifically the three significant women in the narrator’s life—all dark, lovely and strong yet individuals. The whole book is a dark passage, the use of partial light throughout gives the book the feel of memory—smothered and inescapable. Enjoyed the writing as well, conveying a lot with a little. The dialogue was both natural and foreboding and aching with grief. Choices once made are often inescapable, linking personal history to moments of world history gives them the feeling of destiny. A looping narrative could feel redundant or like a trap, but each journey through LUNA PARK feels like a fresh hell. show less

An excellent graphic novel. Much darker than Kevin Baker's prose novels, about a low-level Russian mob enforcer in Coney Island who was formerly a soldier in Chechnya. Although most of the "action" is in Brooklyn, it constantly drifts back to wars throughout Russian history. His father and grandfather and great grandfather fought in other Russian wars -- and recall wars from still earlier periods. Each of these is a series of betrayals, of women, by women, and all ending up badly for show more everyone. And the artwork is haunting. show less