Pretty Deadly #3 – Review

By: Kelly Sue DeConnick (story), Emma Rios (art), Jordie Bellaire (colors)

The Story: Who says you can’t make deals with Death?

The Review: Image Comics has certainly made a name for itself over the last couple years, and rightfully so.  Until Vertigo’s recent revival, no other publisher has been so devoted to producing such consistently original material.  While the quality of these works have varied, their novelty, at least, will always work in their favor; you’re more likely to get a higher quality out of a story if the writer is invested in nurturing her brainchild to maturity.

So while Pretty Deadly may have its faults—I will never get over the utterly distracting bunny and butterfly thing, for example—there is no doubt DeConnick is carefully constructing a story of some import.  There is something about the rugged isolation of the Wild West, not unlike the moors of England, that easily gives birth to rumor and legend, a point DeConnick makes literally between Ginny’s origin story and another, even more disturbing birth described in the issue.

But Ginny is a creature born with a purpose, to seek revenge for wrongs done to others and, above all else, to herself.  It’s clear, from the moment a girl-child Ginny gazes balefully upon the man who led her mother to Death, that vengeance is part of her make-up.  This is in contrast to—spoiler alert—Sissy, the “spawn of a thousand violent deaths,” whose reason for existence is unclear.  You can only speculate as to why Death would so fervently desire to snuff out Sissy’s life so soon after her birth, resulting in a kind of second death.

Perhaps Death predicted all along that Fox, the man—spoiler alert—revealed to be the same one who locked away Ginny’s mother in the first place, could never bring himself to actually slay Sissy.  This second failure, unlike his first, is redemptive, a show of compassion that was absent in the way he treated his wife.  If nothing else, it’s the only evidence that he’s a “good man,” as Sarah (another witness to and possible catalyst of Sissy’s birth) claims.

But such statements have no effect on someone like Ginny.  When Sarah talks about scorpions whose lives depend on the whims of humans, it’s obvious she’s the scorpion and Ginny the human, but it also indicates a major and profound difference in the two women’s natures.  Ginny was raised by Death to hunt men who have sinned, and she’s as relentless in that task as any supernatural force.  But Ginny is also half-human, and we know there’s a measure of compassion in her, too, since last issue revealed a strong kinship between her and Sissy.  The crucial question, the one that will decide how the plot turns, is whether Ginny knows Sissy is the “beast” Death wanted slain and whether Ginny knows it’s the man whose death she seeks that has taken care of Sissy all this time.

If that isn’t tension enough for you, DeConnick ratchets it up even further with her choice of language, which switches between the ambiguous (“Out there, some fool’s writing the story of how this world ended and it starts with a coward—”), the metaphorical (“This is me and mine, right here.  Scorpions, spiders, ants…”), and, most potent of all, the abstract logic of legend.  Consider the exchange between Fox and Death, who demands, “You are not the girl’s father.  What right have you to make such a demand?”

“I am, by marriage, the child’s only living relative.  That grants me rights.”

“So it does.”  Only in fiction.

While Rios is a master at the grim, downcast expression you often see in the earliest photos of American history, she shows a little bit more range here, especially in Sissy’s quick-changing moods.  Rios captures the innocent petulance and sweet sadness of a young girl perfectly, elevating Sissy beyond the boundaries of cuteness characters like her are often fenced in.  Sometimes Rios’ wild lines get in their own way, making it hard to make out certain images from each other, but this is mostly a beautifully drawn book.

Conclusion: These have all the makings of rather high drama, which isn’t something you get from your typical western, but this isn’t your typical western.

Grade: B+

– Minhquan Nguyen

Some Musings: – I appreciate that Clayton Cowles colors the crow’s text in pink, just to make it clear that Molly is, in fact, a female.

– And I ought to say, merry Christmas, everyone!  Hope you all had a wonderful time opening presents or eating Chinese food, whichever it happened to be.