Story- Eric Shanower
Art- Skottie Young

First of all, take a second and say the title of this post out loud to yourself, without pausing between “Oz” and “number”. It kinda flows trippingly off the tongue, doesn’t it? That same jaunty feeling permeates every panel of this great series.
Like many of you, I’m sure, I’ve never read the original book by L. Frank Baum, or any of the sequels. Just one of those things I fooled myself into thinking I’d actually do someday. But whatever I’d heard or seen about it always hinted that there was more to be discovered than in the films. So when this series, purposefully based on the book, was announced, dollars prepared to bail from my pocket.
In this installment, Dorothy has already been “cycloned” away to the magical land of Oz and been sent on her way by the munchkins to find the great and powerful wizard who might be able to get her home to Kansas. She has just been joined by the Scarecrow, and sets off with him on her way, where she encounters her final two companions, the Tin Man and the Lion.
The first thing you notice here is that you actually get a more fleshed out backstory for Dorothy’s quirky companions, and Eric Shanower gets a lot of mileage out of the characterizations revealed as each tells their story. The lamenting Scarecrow in particular reveals the childish, poignant innocence of a newly created lifeform just trying to figure everything out. He constantly feels foolish for his lack of brains, while at the same time making astute observations about the human condition afforded only to a non-jaded observer. Think of Commander Data from Star Trek:TNG, and you get the idea (many of the characters even speak in a simple cadence, with no contractions). As kind of a man-child myself, this stuff always hits me where I live.
The Tin Man’s origin alone is a good indicator that we’re not in the movie realm anymore, Toto, as it’s very sad, and surprisingly macabre for a children’s story.
And now the art. Skottie Young does a magnificent job on this. The whimsical curlicues and rough lines are a perfect match for this story, and evoke all the warmth, fuzziness, and invention of Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes. Jean-Francois Beaulieu’s coloring also deserves mention, especially for the sepia sequences and sunrises, which coat the eyes like honey.
This series is the cup of warm cider you sip as you envelop yourself with a blanket in front of a fireplace and the winter winds howl in vain outside your window.


The Boys is one of those series where the art is as much of a selling point for me as the plot. So it’s good news that I almost didn’t notice this issue of Garth Ennis and Darick Roberson’s hero-lambasting epic comes without the Robertson part. Higgins does a good job aping DR’s crisp lines and detail, so I didn’t miss him as much as during the “Glorious Five Year Plan” arc with Peter Snejbjerg (although PS earns some awesome points for working two J’s into his last name).
Oh, snap!
