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alibi_shopSwamp Thing #15-29 (2005-2006)
Written by Joshua Dysart
Art by Enrique Breccia, except #19 by Ronald Wimberly, #20 by Richard Corben, #25 by Dean Ormston, #26 by Jock
We haven't really had a new major point-of-view character in Swamp Thing for a while (aside from the Vaughan series, where they were all new). Dysart creates a good one in Jordan Schiller, a scientist whose connection to Swamp Thing goes all the way back to the Alec and Linda Holland days—and rather than being just a plot device or an excuse for further retcons, this idea leads to some of the most interesting character writing we've had in the series in a long time, even if things do still kind of fall apart toward the end.
Jordan is an older guy who had a relationship with Linda when he was her teacher in grad school, and then watched her gradually get involved with Alec, who was also his student. This might be the first time we've seen Linda Holland as a real person since those first few pages in 1972; she's always been an idealized love object in memories and dreams (except for one of Mark Millar's godawful ideas, but let's not speak of that). She starts out as still being idealized in Jordan's memories, but we get to see some other sides of her, and the love triangle isn't played for melodrama but is just a situation between adults; ultimately what tips the scales isn't Jordan's age or the teacher-student thing, it's that Linda and Jordan are both idealists who are shattered by Nixon's re-election, whereas Alec isn't all that political so he remains more emotionally available. This may not have much to do with Swamp Thing, but it's moving, especially as it's framed by present-day Jordan's fear that he's not only lost his youth but may be losing his body and mind and career after suffering a stroke. Jordan's story goes to some unexpected places later on, and helps to make these issues feel like they have a through-line even when that's not always the case.
Alec Holland was always almost as much of a non-character as Linda; we just knew he was a blond dude with a big chin*, smart, basically a nice guy (if overconfident: his spirit in heaven once tried to make a pass at Abby's astral form when they had just met). I like how these flashbacks give us a somewhat less sympathetic character without being inconsistent with anything we've seen, and without really taking sides between him and Jordan. Of course, Alec per se hasn't been part of our story for decades—Swampy just had Alec's memories or part of his spirit or his "humanity", it's never been very clear. Dysart brings in the idea of "the Holland Mind" as a composite entity made of all of Swamp Thing's perceptions of Alec, which has become disconnected, and in a very clever bit (at least for readers who have seen the last 200+ issues) he implies that the way the series has constantly revisited its own beginning is a problem: "all the separate notions of the Earth Elemental are infected with this moment [of Alec's death]", i.e. too many origin story recaps.
But unlike with earlier writers, there's no new systematic mythology element or plot device to sort this all out; Swampy takes his time thinking about it, and then he basically decides to stop worrying about it and be whatever he is. This is characteristic of Dysart's whole run: he's more concerned with creating an emotional arc than with explaining why things have to happen a certain way, and in general I think that works fine. When Swamp Thing is mentally drifting through the Green and describing how it feels, it's not as lyrical as Alan Moore, but it's often pretty lovely and isn't just repeating stuff we've heard before. And when Abby gets some time to think about starting over in Houma (she's doing OK with Tefé again, she's getting into social work, and we're reminded that it's been a while so she's now 50 years old), that's well written too.
There is a plot though, or rather two plots. First there's a very, very, very weird variation on the old "evil corporation + mad scientist + gene-spliced monster" tune, where the villain at first seems to be a company called Mantoson (Monsanto, get it) but turns out to be... kind of a baby mad scientist who is his own monster, and is also from another dimension or at least in another dimension, who made an artificial lifeform that's killing the ocean but it means no harm... I think? It's extremely confusing and at times seems to be a deliberate parody (the antagonist goes on and on in ridiculous cosmic-villain-speak full of mixed metaphors, until one of his accomplices yells "I can't understand a fucking word that comes out of your mouth!"), and I kind of love it. It gives Breccia a chance to go nuts with goofy sci-fi visuals that don't require any explanation for why anything looks the way it does.
The second plot, which closes out the series, brings the focus back to the swamp: developers are grabbing up land after Hurricane Rita, one of their hired heavies murders a local, and (for no special reason) a bunch of folktales from the dead man's memory start coming to life and waging war on the humans. This drags on and on, with way too much time devoted to a bunch of super-angry redneck toad creatures who kill people, and to a somewhat cool but arbitrary interlude where Jason Woodrue (who apparently died in some other comic at some point) returns to life as a whole lot of sad little beasties. But Dysart makes a fair effort at not forgetting about the people during this chaos, and some Cajun characters that he introduced a while back are by now familiar enough that we care what happens to them.
It's wrapped up awfully abruptly (and I'm not sure I buy that Abby decides to move back in with Swampy at this point, abandoning her other relationship and her job), but it makes a statement: love and community are not incompatible with doing good in the world. That's a refreshing thing after what feels like dozens of Swamp Thing plots that were based on the opposite premise. And this whole version of the series was refreshing; it's not exactly smoothly crafted (except for the art), but all in all it might be my favorite run since Veitch.
More lists I'll probably get tired of doing
Best pseudoscience gibberish: "John Chapman [a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed] was controlled by the omni-apple cognizance!"
Who needs continuity anyway: I feel like the Matt Cable we see in Jordan's memories is kind of a retcon—he seems like much more of a shady corporate lackey. But I don't care because Cable in those days was very boring.
Grossest thing: A street kid that Abby was trying to help gets her head chomped in half by a stupid monster. Also, Swamp Thing digests a baby that he accidentally killed, but that's actually kind of a touching moment.
Next: movie review interlude
Written by Joshua Dysart
Art by Enrique Breccia, except #19 by Ronald Wimberly, #20 by Richard Corben, #25 by Dean Ormston, #26 by Jock
We haven't really had a new major point-of-view character in Swamp Thing for a while (aside from the Vaughan series, where they were all new). Dysart creates a good one in Jordan Schiller, a scientist whose connection to Swamp Thing goes all the way back to the Alec and Linda Holland days—and rather than being just a plot device or an excuse for further retcons, this idea leads to some of the most interesting character writing we've had in the series in a long time, even if things do still kind of fall apart toward the end.
Jordan is an older guy who had a relationship with Linda when he was her teacher in grad school, and then watched her gradually get involved with Alec, who was also his student. This might be the first time we've seen Linda Holland as a real person since those first few pages in 1972; she's always been an idealized love object in memories and dreams (except for one of Mark Millar's godawful ideas, but let's not speak of that). She starts out as still being idealized in Jordan's memories, but we get to see some other sides of her, and the love triangle isn't played for melodrama but is just a situation between adults; ultimately what tips the scales isn't Jordan's age or the teacher-student thing, it's that Linda and Jordan are both idealists who are shattered by Nixon's re-election, whereas Alec isn't all that political so he remains more emotionally available. This may not have much to do with Swamp Thing, but it's moving, especially as it's framed by present-day Jordan's fear that he's not only lost his youth but may be losing his body and mind and career after suffering a stroke. Jordan's story goes to some unexpected places later on, and helps to make these issues feel like they have a through-line even when that's not always the case.
Alec Holland was always almost as much of a non-character as Linda; we just knew he was a blond dude with a big chin*, smart, basically a nice guy (if overconfident: his spirit in heaven once tried to make a pass at Abby's astral form when they had just met). I like how these flashbacks give us a somewhat less sympathetic character without being inconsistent with anything we've seen, and without really taking sides between him and Jordan. Of course, Alec per se hasn't been part of our story for decades—Swampy just had Alec's memories or part of his spirit or his "humanity", it's never been very clear. Dysart brings in the idea of "the Holland Mind" as a composite entity made of all of Swamp Thing's perceptions of Alec, which has become disconnected, and in a very clever bit (at least for readers who have seen the last 200+ issues) he implies that the way the series has constantly revisited its own beginning is a problem: "all the separate notions of the Earth Elemental are infected with this moment [of Alec's death]", i.e. too many origin story recaps.
But unlike with earlier writers, there's no new systematic mythology element or plot device to sort this all out; Swampy takes his time thinking about it, and then he basically decides to stop worrying about it and be whatever he is. This is characteristic of Dysart's whole run: he's more concerned with creating an emotional arc than with explaining why things have to happen a certain way, and in general I think that works fine. When Swamp Thing is mentally drifting through the Green and describing how it feels, it's not as lyrical as Alan Moore, but it's often pretty lovely and isn't just repeating stuff we've heard before. And when Abby gets some time to think about starting over in Houma (she's doing OK with Tefé again, she's getting into social work, and we're reminded that it's been a while so she's now 50 years old), that's well written too.
There is a plot though, or rather two plots. First there's a very, very, very weird variation on the old "evil corporation + mad scientist + gene-spliced monster" tune, where the villain at first seems to be a company called Mantoson (Monsanto, get it) but turns out to be... kind of a baby mad scientist who is his own monster, and is also from another dimension or at least in another dimension, who made an artificial lifeform that's killing the ocean but it means no harm... I think? It's extremely confusing and at times seems to be a deliberate parody (the antagonist goes on and on in ridiculous cosmic-villain-speak full of mixed metaphors, until one of his accomplices yells "I can't understand a fucking word that comes out of your mouth!"), and I kind of love it. It gives Breccia a chance to go nuts with goofy sci-fi visuals that don't require any explanation for why anything looks the way it does.
The second plot, which closes out the series, brings the focus back to the swamp: developers are grabbing up land after Hurricane Rita, one of their hired heavies murders a local, and (for no special reason) a bunch of folktales from the dead man's memory start coming to life and waging war on the humans. This drags on and on, with way too much time devoted to a bunch of super-angry redneck toad creatures who kill people, and to a somewhat cool but arbitrary interlude where Jason Woodrue (who apparently died in some other comic at some point) returns to life as a whole lot of sad little beasties. But Dysart makes a fair effort at not forgetting about the people during this chaos, and some Cajun characters that he introduced a while back are by now familiar enough that we care what happens to them.
It's wrapped up awfully abruptly (and I'm not sure I buy that Abby decides to move back in with Swampy at this point, abandoning her other relationship and her job), but it makes a statement: love and community are not incompatible with doing good in the world. That's a refreshing thing after what feels like dozens of Swamp Thing plots that were based on the opposite premise. And this whole version of the series was refreshing; it's not exactly smoothly crafted (except for the art), but all in all it might be my favorite run since Veitch.
More lists I'll probably get tired of doing
Best pseudoscience gibberish: "John Chapman [a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed] was controlled by the omni-apple cognizance!"
Who needs continuity anyway: I feel like the Matt Cable we see in Jordan's memories is kind of a retcon—he seems like much more of a shady corporate lackey. But I don't care because Cable in those days was very boring.
Grossest thing: A street kid that Abby was trying to help gets her head chomped in half by a stupid monster. Also, Swamp Thing digests a baby that he accidentally killed, but that's actually kind of a touching moment.
Next: movie review interlude
