Swamp Thing #7 – Review

By: Scott Snyder (writer), Yanick Paquette (artist), Nathan Fairbairn (colorist)

The Story: From the ashes he’ll rise again—yes, I said “he.”  Look for Phoenix elsewhere.

The Review: I know as a reviewer, I should approach everything with as much of an open mind as possible, but I’m only human; I get affected by biases and prejudices as much as anyone else.  Though I like to think I’m pretty forgiving when it comes to this stuff, once a writer has lost my faith, it takes a lot more to earn my good opinion the next time around.  Conversely, a writer who impresses me gets some leeway, even when he’s not at his best.

That’s a foreboding intro if I ever wrote one, but don’t get too worried; I’m not saying Snyder has fallen off the clipper ship of quality he’s been steering for the past six months.  It only feels like this issue doesn’t quite break new ground for the story, even in spite of the dramatic ending.  If anything, Snyder spends the bulk of the issue going over the same plot points he’s been emphasizing and re-emphasizing all along: the Parliament of Trees’ martyred accusations of Alec’s betrayal; their I-told-you-so’s about Abby; the notion of the plant world as being more hostile than peaceful; the value of human restraint to Swamp Things.  Without exception, we’ve covered this territory quite thoroughly before.

But that’s the kind of thing that separates a skilled writer from one who’s merely competent.  Snyder’s one of those few storytellers who can deliver every bit of exposition he’s thrown at you before without coming across as redundant, boring, or stale.  If you want to lock it down, that gift comes from the rhythm of his writing, something that can only be honed over years of literary experience.  The Parliament describes their end to Alec thusly: “We are dying, the Parliament of Trees.  Having stood for thousands of years, we are dying.  You will watch us die from here, from inside the Green, while your body is protected by us…so you can know our pain, feel it as we do.  And then you, too, will die.”  Not to get my English major on, but the use of conduplicato in that passage is a thing of beauty.

Besides the sheer momentum he generates with the flow of his writing, Snyder also makes the familiar themes like new by weaving them all together, setting the epilogue of the old arc and the prologue of the new at the same time.  It can’t be mere coincidence that this all takes place over a scene where the old guard of the Green perish, giving up the last of their strength to make way for the new.  And certainly it can’t be a coincidence that this process happens to be a microcosm of the natural world in general: life, death, rebirth.

Yet against these rather abstract and large-scale ideas, Snyder grounds the story with the most relevant, human theme of all: the sacrifices made for love—the strength gained from pity.  While the Parliament expend themselves in the end for Alec’s sake, they do so really out of a desperate attempt for self-preservation.  Their actions make Alec’s painful choices seem even more noble in contrast, as he doesn’t take on his fate for them, but “for her,” even though she has become perhaps his greatest enemy of all.

Good luck trying to figure out how truly good the script is because the art—my Lord, the art—is of such fantastic stuff that the words almost get lost.  Marco Rudy made some attempts to emulate Paquette’s style of horror and layouts, but no one but the man himself can deliver those lush figures, those distinctly nouveau, floral panels, and most of all, that gripping sense of drama.  It’s hard to imagine Alec’s transformation would have lived up to Snyder’s emphasis on “the pain, the pain, the pain” (nice use of epiezeuxis, by the way—English major attack!) were it not for Paquette’s gruesome portrayal of the invasive nature of the changes, strands of plant life creeping and crawling throughout his body, using his spine as a trellis, covering his organs like moss on stone.  Major kudos to Fairbairn, whose psychedelic colors are no less responsible for the flat-out beauty—in spite of the truly grim imagery—of this issue.

Conclusion: A rich, deep issue deserves a rich, deep review.  Snyder is a worthy successor to the illustrious Swamp Thing tradition, proving this title really deserves all the hype attached to it over the years.

Grade: A-

-Minhquan Nguyen