by Saladin Ahmed & Christian Ward
volume one
I barely made it two issues through Black Bolt’s first volume and Saladin Ahmed’s writing debut. After reading bits and pieces of his writing in Wilson’s final arc of Ms. Marvel, I was tentatively optimistic about a creative partnership with him and fantastic artist Christian Ward (Invisible Kingdom), about a character whom I had seen before, but knew nothing about.
My biggest issue with this book was Ahmed’s overuse of exposition. Every question was explained almost as soon as it was presented, and it became boring almost instantly. In the opening pages, Black Bolt wakes up in a maximum prison, and almost immediately after remembering who he is, suddenly remembers who got him in the prison in the first place, and how. This could have been a mystery with some surprise and feelings on the reader’s end, rather than explaining it to us straightaway (and then reminding us to shoehorn in some sympathy).
The prison lets inmates be toyed with and killed, and the stronger ones are regenerated; it’s interesting, but right after Bolt dies the first time, the whole thing is explained to him. Then the exposition turns to wooden dialogue between new characters, their backstories, et cetera. It’s boring and removes any sense of urgency or mystery.
Especially for a character forced to live as a mute because of the destructive power of his voice (thanks Wikipedia), there should have been as little exposition as possible and let the story unfold naturally and visually.
Ahmed didn’t need to lean on any exposition with a fantastic creative partner like Ward. Ward excels in the weird and colorful, and he does a fantastic job with the disorienting nature of the prison, colorful aliens, and bright neons that really pop. I’m glad I flipped to the back of the book, because Ward’s completely carries the climactic moment, while the narrator completely undermines it, explaining what’s happening and even giving away some losses that would have been so much more powerful shown, not told. (And if any artist can handle the “show,” it’s Ward.)
Exposition combined with Bolt thinking like an extreme narc give me little reason to care about him and his situation. He reminds us that he is a king and one of the most powerful beings in the universe over and over, with a pretentious tone that was a real turn off. He even says that as king, he has a “pure bloodline,” which just shouldn’t be a thing anymore (particularly if you’re king of the Inhumans). And finally, anyone who seriously calls themselves “Blackagar Boltagon” should not be taken seriously.
Finally, the group Bolt eventually surrounds himself with are a mix of new characters and some D-list villains, from what I gathered on Goodreads. Rava, the Skrull warrior and only woman in the book, was still hyper-masculine and I hated how her sexuality was treated like one of the snu-snu Amazon women in Futurama. It felt gross, compared to male characters Creel and Bolt’s romantic and redemptive partners who are just waiting for them on the outside! That’s what real feminine women do! Wait! On the outside! UGH.
No, I did not like Blackabolt, and it doesn’t give me a lot of hope for the next Ms Marvel trade. If we were going to get the adventures of a forced mute in a prison intended to torture and regenerate its inmates, PLEASE GIVE ME A TRADE ABOUT JASON MENDOZA INSTEAD.
Reading Art 