That was followed in 2015 by “The Case of a Cup of Joe,” with Dex caught up in Portland’s hyper-competitive coffee scene. If anything, it was even better.Ģ014 saw the release of another five-issue miniseries, “The Case of the King of Clubs,” which saw Southworth replaced by Justin Greenwood, and Dex delving into Portland’s fervent soccer culture, investigating an attack of a friend following a Portland Timbers match. In fact, Dex inhabit the same fictional universe as Kodiak, with several minor characters occasionally popping up.Īlthough it didn’t exactly set the world on fire, it did get some pretty decent reviews, and so in 2012, Dex returned in another story arc, this one bearing a slightly less long-winded subtitle: “The Case of the Baby in the Velvet Case,” again with Southworth handling the art chores. Greg Rucka, of course, is the Eisner Award-winning comic writer and crime novelist who writes the Atticus Kodiak books. Meanwhile, artist Matthew Southworth’s moody, cinematic depiction of Portland is a wonder to behold, all blotchy shadows, telling details and under-the-fingernails grit. She drives a ’64 Mustang and likes her Jack “rocks, water back.” And, just for kicks, she’s apparently bisexual. She’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective of her friends and especially Ansel, her kid brother. television shows of his youth such as Magnum, P.I., Simon and Simon, and The Rockford Files as influences. Dex maintains a more ground-level stance - Rucka cites the P.I. Jessica Jones? She’s okay, but what with the drinking, the anger management issues and the superpowers, she can be a little too high maintenance. She’s a scrappy, blue collar smart ass and certified tough cookie whose “up yours” take on life, tattered professionalism and rough-edged compassion make her one of comicdom’s (and the genre’s) most compelling female characters of recent years. Tree, Brian Bendis’ Jinx Alameda and Ed “Criminal” Brubaker’s late, lamented all-too-brief take on Dakota North in the pages of Daredevil, Rucka’s Dex is nobody’s bimbo.
Recalling such classic no-nonsense latter-day private janes as Max Allan Collins’ Ms. There are no muscle-bound dudes in tights here no silicone-fed Amazons fighting crime in G-strings and high heels, no time-traveling evil entities from the 8th dimension, no scratch-and-sniff foil covers – just good old dirt-under the fingernails hard-boiled grit set in a world as real as morning breath.
in a regular (or as regular as small comic book press runs go) comic book again. And Stumptown was well worth the wait - by 2009, it was a four-color treat for anyone who’d despaired of ever seeing an honest-to-God P.I. It was about time the recent glut of first-class, high-faluting graphic novels focusing on crime fiction finally tricked down to the monthly comic book spinner rack. And seems to have more social skills than she does.Īnd - oh yeah - being shot point blank in the chest by two mouthbreathers-for-hire who’ve warned her off of her latest case.Īnd that’s just in the first few pages of Stumptown (2009-10), Greg Rucka’s twisty, turny four-part comic book mini-series which bears the unwieldy sub-title of “The Case of the Girl Who Took Her Shampoo But Left Her Mini,” which introduced Dex to the world. Dex tries to charm two thugs who’ve drivenĪll DEXEDRINE “DEX” CALLISTO PARIOS, the sole operative of Portland’s Stumptown Investigations, has to worry about is her gambling jones, the eighteen large she owes the Confederated Tribes of the Wind Coast Casino, tracking down the messed-up granddaughter of the casino’s manager and taking care of her kid brother Ansel, who has Down’s Syndrome. “I don’t suppose we can talk about this?”
0 kommentar(er)
