by James Robinson, Peter Snejbjerg, Michael Zulli, Steve Yeowell,
Teddy
Kristiansen
DC Comics, $14.95 paper
Many are the crimes perpetrated against witches and women through the ages,
and in this graphic novel (originally published as a three-part comic series),
writer James Robinson seeks to address about half of them. Beginning with a
Pictish pirate band’s savage assault on a coven in Roman-era London, Robinson
creates the catalyst for a tale of revenge across the centuries. As she is
being raped by the pirate chief, the priestess of the coven, Ursula, calls on
Hecate, goddess-queen of witches, to help her obtain vengeance, in a future
life if not the present one. Her plea is heard by a trio of enchantresses —
the trinity who represent Hecate in her three incarnations: maiden, mother, and
crone — who agree to avenge the crime whenever Ursula and her attacker are
reincarnated together in London. What follows are three episodes in which the
souls of these antagonists are brought close enough for retribution to be
possible.
Given the way Robinson has structured the book, with each episode
corresponding to an incarnation of Hecate, we know that Ursula must endure at
least two lives before vengeance is hers. But suspense seems not to be
Robinson’s chief concern. Rather, he seems most intent on creating vivid images
of repression and hatred over two millennia — of witches most specifically,
but in a broader sense all women and in the broadest sense, anything that is
“Other.” That he does with vigor, fashioning a kind of horror that has nothing
to do with the supernatural, but with man’s — and I mean precisely that —
awful predilection for ignorance, prejudice, and violence. In a medieval
groom’s assurance to his bride that “it’ll only hurt a little”; in a gypsy’s
comment that the “locals fear us”; in a rapist’s words to his male victim that
“it takes more than sword and a sneer to be a wild man”; in a modern husband’s
remark to his wife that, “if you worried about me more, worried about the home
being right, I think we’d both be happier, don’t you?”, Robinson depicts
something more frightening than malevolent spells and spirits. And that feeds
in us a page-turning fury because we feel so keenly the need for justice.
Adding to the book’s effectiveness is the distinctly different feel each era
gets. Here, Robinson is aided immensely by his artistic collaborators. Teddy
Kristiansen’s second century is dark, scratchy, and angular, a world of
primitive brutishness, and Peter Snejbjerg’s 14th century is more rounded and
developed but still frequently subsumed in shadow. The 19th century of Michael
Zulli is lush and romantic, a time of high fashion and the influence of exotic
cultures, while Steve Yeowell’s 20th century comes off as antiseptic and
Formica-clean. (While he only contributes the book cover and frontispiece,
Michael Kaluta adds a fascinating baroque portrait of Hecate’s sorceress
sisters.) They help us leap visually across the centuries, and each adds his
own satisfying fillip to the menace and mystery within these covers.
It is a bit curious that this story of female persecution and retaliation has
been formed wholly by male hands, but given the nature of the tale, it may be
that these men are endeavoring to make amends for their gender’s crimes through
their efforts here. Whatever their motivation, these artists have concocted a
juicy revenge fantasy well suited to Halloween — or any season, really.
— Robert Faires
This article appears in October 25 • 1996 and October 25 • 1996 (Cover).