By David Lapham (writer), Tony Harris (pencils), Jim Clark (inks), J.D. Mettler (colors)

*sigh* I want to love this book. I really do. Spider-Man’s my favorite character, the creative team is incredibly talented, and yet, this book fails on so many levels. David Lapham’s story is such an enigma; it’s just frustrating. I can’t remember having this much disdain for Peter Parker. Instead of the sweet tempered kid, we get a pompous jerk who is completely caught up in himself.

Now, I know it took a disastrous turn of events to make Peter realize his mantra of responsibility, but in this mini-series you don’t even want to root for him. He’s a complete jerk and I was honestly cheering for him to fail. The only people I genuinely care about are Aunt May and Uncle Ben. The disrespect and crap Peter puts them through is just outrageous.

Once again, the only beacon of light comes from Tony Harris, Jim Clark, and J.D. Mettler. Every page they do is just pure magic. Props also go out to Joe Caramagna for making the lettering pop out in a flamboyant, but fun way. I love David Lapham as a writer and artist. But this story just isn’t working for me. I’ll keep reading, hoping things improve, but my doubt is running high. I can understand if you’re trying to teach Peter Parker a lesson in humility, but this is ridiculous. A person this pompous doesn’t deserve to wear that outfit.

Marvel says it wants Spider-Man to be care-free and fun again, but this book is anything but. Peter Parker is a complete emo, filled with teenage angst and zero charisma. (Grade: D)

– J. Montes