Greg Rucka and various artists, Crime Bible: The Five Lessons of Blood (DC Comics, 2007-8). Five-issue miniseries, $2.99 each.
By Alex Boney
For people who have been reading
mainstream comic books for about as long as they have been
able to read, it’s difficult not to play favorites with
characters. I’m no exception, and the Question (Vic Sage)
has been my favorite comic book character for almost 20
years now. When Vic died in DC’s weekly series
52
a couple years ago, I was
more than a little distraught. I know this is comics, and
anybody can come back at any time with any explanation
(Robin and Bucky, anyone?), but the most engaging,
intelligent, and fully-developed character I had ever read
in mainstream comics had just been wiped out by lung
cancer. (See? Even his death is unique in the world of
comics.) The story of Vic’s death—written mostly by Greg
Rucka—was moving and logical, but even by the end of
52,
it was hard for me to accept that the role of the Question
had been adopted by Vic’s friend and protégé Renee Montoya.
So when DC announced a “52 Aftermath” miniseries starring
the new Question, I was more ambivalent than excited. Renee
is not my Question, so I wasn’t really interested in
finding the answers she was looking for. But after reading
through the five issues of Crime Bible: The Five Lessons of
Blood, I’m
convinced that the idea of the Question transcends the
character behind the (appropriately) blank mask.
Greg Rucka (Queen
& Country, Whiteout) has earned a reputation for writing
strong, believable female characters in a medium—or at
least a genre—dominated by men and bimbos, and Renee
Montoya is a fitting example. A Latina lesbian who served
as a detective for the Gotham City Police Department, Renee
moved from a minor supporting character in
Detective
Comics to a major
player in Gotham
Central. Rucka
wrote her in both series, as well as in the majority of the
Question scenes in 52, so it was logical that he would be
tapped to write the spinoff/follow-up Question series. At
the end of 52, Renee uncovers a underground conspiracy
involving a Gotham City criminal organization and the
newly-introduced Bible of Crime. The Crime Bible, a
document dating back several centuries, is being used to
usher in a new age of Hell on Earth. Donning the disguise
of the Question for the first time, Renee foils the
sacrifice that would have triggered this age. But as
Crime Bible: Five Lessons
of Blood begins,
it becomes clear that the Gotham City criminal group was
just a localized sect of a much more wide-ranging Religion
of Crime. Crime
Bible follows
Renee as she attempts to cut off the reach and influence of
this group.
Although the tone and pacing of Rucka’s writing is
consistent and effective, the art in Crime Bible is inconsistent. Each issue is
illustrated by a different artist. Since each of the first
four issues explores one of the Religion of Crime’s four
major tenets (deceit, lust, greed, and murder), the
experiment in artistic rotation makes sense. But because
some of the artists are stronger or better-suited to
Rucka’s tone and vision, the overall story arc is a bit
disconnected. Tom Mandrake provides a sketchy, shaky start
in issue #1, and Jesus Saiz’ art in issue #2 is stiff and
static (which is unfortunate in an issue focused on lust).
The art begins gaining traction and momentum in issue #3
(illustrated by Matthew Clark), but the best rendering of
Renee and her world is turned in by Diego Olmos in issue
#4. Because Olmos’ heavy but defined inks and effective use
of contrasts are a perfect fit for the series,
Crime Bible
would have been better served
if he had drawn all five issues.
Artistic inconsistency aside, Crime Bible provides an engaging look at the world of
human depravity. And because Renee has reached a point of
crisis in her own life, her perspective provides an
effective narrative focus. Much like Vic Sage before her,
Renee doesn’t know who she is—what her physical and moral
limitations are, who her allies are, or why she is even
drawn to this quest. She insists that she is trying to
prevent each of the Religion of Crime’s sins, but she gets
pulled into the very crimes she is trying to fight. By the
beginning of the last issue, Renee has reached a tipping
point, and Rucka cleverly calls attention to Renee’s
dilemma by conflating the word “faceless” with the word
“faithless.” This is a smart, literate story.
For a series so carefully plotted and paced, then, I was
shocked when I reached the last page of issue #5. I turned
to read the next page, but there wasn’t one. The ending is
abrupt and jarring, even if the result was not entirely
unexpected. Many readers and critics have complained that
the end wasn’t an end at all—that this miniseries is just a
set-up for the next series (which is turns out will begin
this summer in Final Crisis:
Revelations). But
this reading misses the point that Rucka has been trying to
make with the Question all along. This character—this
concept—is about mutation and change. Vic never really
found a solid end-point either (no human being ever does),
and his conclusions always only pointed to the next
question he needed to answer. Renee seems to have fallen
into a chasm by the last issue, and the series does end
abruptly. But this series is effective in the same way
that The Empire
Strikes Back is
effective. It provides an ambitious study of human
character while staying true to the realities of human
behavior. Crime
Bible doesn’t
feel complete, but it feels true. And just as Vic
experienced—and as he tried to teach Renee in the year
prior to his death—people often have to fall quite far
before they can begin to climb their way back up. I’m
looking forward to seeing this process play out in the next
story, but I’m also satisfied with the statement Rucka has
made in this one.
