Sex and chainsaws and hypodermic needles of bright green goop. Disembowelment and self-dismemberment. Pessimism and poetry. The tone here is Jodorowsky meets Tarantino. And it mostly works.
The bleakness is still there, all that obsession with entropy and death and returning life to the mud remains intact, but there are a few delightful, chuckle-aloud moments early on. And if Coffin Bound speaks with three mouths, and the first two are Agony and Death, the third one is Love. Love here meaning the kind that drives humankind mad.
If you found yourself wondering who the Big Bad was in issue #1, don’t worry. You’ll meet him here. And even with only one issue behind this one, it comes as a whiplash-inducing surprise.
The EarthEater is still on the move. Izzy and the Vulture slink out the back door of the present and into the past. We’re drawn to wonder in a dive bar bathroom stall whether it is “providence or the need to piss” that brings us to our most meaningful connections.
There is a brutality to the writing, here, and to the art, that truly shocks. A leanness to the storytelling that compels. It is a good comic, and you should buy it.
Also, you know someone’s a relentless psychopath when they put lemon on their pancakes. Never heard of such a thing? Is this a thing? Please, gods, if anyone has information about the provenance of squeezing lemons on pancakes, or if it’s just the product of a brilliant and deranged author, let me know.
Visit your local comic book store or head to the Image Comics webstore to grab your copy of Coffin Bound #2