The Rest of Heaven Was Blue – Advanced Review

By: Matthew Wilkins (story), Emmanuel Xerx Javier (art)

The Story: You don’t need to share the same blood to be brothers in arms, but you may need to shed it.

The Review: The most dreaded lesson during my high school English teaching days was Theme for Freshmen.  I hated teaching it almost as much as the kids hated learning about it.  I probably made my job harder than it needed to be because I believe a proper theme can’t be—or shouldn’t be, rather—captured by a single word or a few words (e.g. love, loss, loneliness, the solace of donuts).  A story’s lasting power is often proportionate to the complexity of its theme(s).

This is all to say that if The Rest of Heaven Was Blue has any impact or resonance at all, they’re not destined to last for very long.  With ominous quotes bookending each chapter (“…and I was indeed wretched beyond the mere wretchedness of humanity,” from Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Black Cat”), it’s clear Wilkins wants very dearly to tell a serious story.  Admittedly, Heaven and its Vietnam War story is completely sober from front to back, with nary a chink for levity to shine through.  However, it also never breaks through the generic to make a personal and specific statement for itself.

Heaven tries, certainly, perhaps too much and too desperately to succeed.  Consider the opening monologue of the book: “Some say there are two worlds with clear lines dividing them.  Light and dark.  But in this realm of fear and power, it felt like we were wandering through their blurred margins.”  A narrative that starts out declaring its message so baldly seems to be unfocused on simply telling its story, allowing the themes to arise from there.

Wilkins is so obsessed with amoralizing that he neglects some fundamental storytelling work, most obviously with the character development.  Even limiting his main cast to three soldiers doesn’t bear riper fruit in more dimensional characters.  None of them, not even Garrett, our strong and silent protagonist, seem to have history beyond the story at hand.*  Their lives begin and end strictly within Heaven’s action, affording no opportunity to gain greater insight into any changes in their personality as their wanderings in the Vietnam jungle grow steadily darker.

While Wilkins does appreciate the wisdom of saying less, he doesn’t adopt it as a rule, but rather in fits and spurts, often going through whole pages without words, then opening the floodgates of confrontational dialogue and morose, rambling, slightly confusing narration:

“…I didn’t feel anything.  I saw people who didn’t understand what was going on.  I saw men who were more than willing to explain.  To show them fear.  If they didn’t know it already.  And I was swept up in it.  In a place such as this, where things happened whether I was here or not.  There seemed no longer any reason for my being.”

Much of the book reads like this.  Unfortunately, Wilkins doesn’t capitalize on the fleeting moments of genuine interest in his story, like the soldiers’ traumas manifesting as visions of animated cadavers (read: zombies).  Had he taken this further and truly explored the psychology of his characters, Heaven may have ended up making its own mark in the war comics genre.  Instead, it’s mostly a collection of brutal acts of violence and historical skimming with little personal meaning whatsoever.

The art is superior to the script, thought that’s not quite saying much.  There’s a little bit of the dignity of Joe Kubert in Javier’s military characters, though itd’s nearly lost amidst all the gruesomeness of the story.  While Javier can draw an elegantly grim face in repose, he doesn’t let you into the mind ticking from behind.  If Wilkins does little to provide some depth to his characters, Javier doesn’t do much to make up for his partner.

Conclusion: The story tries very hard in an endearing sort of way, but wears its desperation to be taken seriously too plainly on its military fatigues.  It would have had greater profit if it focused on developing its plot and characters instead of waxing philosophic.

Grade: C+

– Minhquan Nguyen

Some Musings: * Even characters who set themselves apart without ever standing out.  What’s the point of creating Wayne, who’s black, bears the only conscience in the troop, and understands the native language, only to kill him off without learning anything about his actual personality or life?