Dead Boy Detectives #10 – Review

I’ve often found Dead Boy Detectives fun, but never really funny. I smile a good deal, maybe have a chuckle once in a while, but laughs are rare. Litt’s humor is of a very British kind, absurd, understated, and situational, so it takes a little more of your attention to catch on. A lot of it has also been buried under the series’ melodrama, so the jokes lose steam almost the moment after they’re told. Comedy depends on momentum; once you start laughing, it’s hard to stop.

Maybe that’s why this issue, despite taking place against the background of Rosa’s dwindling life, strikes you as the funniest Litt’s put out yet. Here, the heightened tension accentuates the dry remarks that just keep on coming, one after another. The black cat insists it can help convince Rosa’s parents that their child can be saved; its white partner retorts, “You underestimate the impact of an extremely cute visitation.” When Crystal tries to intervene, her mother says soothingly, “Crystal’s always been a bit weird,” and her dad chimes in, “Yeah, we usually find it’s sensible to ignore everything she says.” Once Crystal finally gets the Greens to listen, Julia says brusquely, “If this is about Jesus, I’ll be really annoyed.” You almost forget an innocent girl is dying here.

After that hectic opening, things only spiral more out of control, and the jokes get even more absurd. Miranda complains after an insult from her granny, “Mu-um, she called me a bitch. Aren’t you going to tell her off?” Crystal panics when the cats, still invisible, begin talking around the Greens, “Oh, no—they’ll just think I’m a crap ventriloquist!” Wackiest of all are Edwin’s obscure references, which require a bit of research (or European heritage) to appreciate:

“This was worse than Margate on a bank holiday! Or the north face of the Matterhorn in perishing January. Or Second House, Friday night at the Glasgow Empire!”*

Humor helps our heroes cope with the dire situation before them, which is probably for the best. Both Edwin and Charles show a lot more spirit than usual in the battle against Nye, though sadly, we don’t get to see Edwin’s “considerable swordsmanship,” which indeed has been “pitifully underused over the years.” Instead, Nye falls to the combined might of the boys, Tragic Mick, Rosa, and Hana, which actually is the better outcome; it’s nice to see the damsels in distress contribute to their own rescue.

While all these efforts may very well be in vain, as seen at the end of the issue, the real tragedy is the opportunities Litt misses by taking down Nye so soon. Poorly defined antagonists has been an ongoing problem for the series, and Nye fits right in. Other than the thin brief of his history in #8, we get no further development on his history or motivations. He’d be a great children’s storybook villain if his nature wasn’t so grim; he did, after all, have to die to get to where he’s at.

We can only hope we’ll get a little more information out of everybody—Nye, the Greens, Crystal’s parents, Clementine’s mother**—once the action calms down a little. Maybe we’ll even return to the Neitherlands, especially since Litt merely glides over its scope. I’d like to know more about the Zombezi, the river in the Neitherlands where you can find “[h]alf-life lowlifes, newly arrived.” I don’t know what any of it means, but it sure sounds interesting.

Buckingham and Kelly make a great team. Buckingham’s strong sense of storytelling gives the issue its clarity, but it’s Kelly who gives its liveliness. Kelly expands on Buckingham’s thoughtfully constructed figures with a leaner, swifter, more detailed linework that makes movements seem more fluid and natural. You can see the difference in close-ups; the ones drawn solely by Buckingham in Fables tend to look plain and a little dull, but in DBD Kelly captures most of the emotional tension of the scene.