by donaldr
A brief and frequently repeated scene from my childhood, circa 13 years old:
“I’ve been walking for about 20 minutes, down windy cobblestone roads, in the unmitigated heat, sweat pouring down my neck. I finally reach the “piazza,” or the central plaza of my little Italian town, and I go to the giornalaio (newspaper vendor) and revel in anticipation . . . you see, today is the day the new Dylan Dog comes out.”
I grew up with Dylan Dog comics, spending weeks saving up for them, and hungrily devouring them in mere minutes after I bought them. And now you know that anything I tell you about the Dylan Dog Case Files collection of “Seven spine-tingling stories,” as it proclaims on the back cover, will be completely and irredeemably biased.
However, “bias” is an incredibly useful tool when talking about Dylan Dog. He is a “nightmare investigator,” a fiendishly handsome private eye (looks loosely based on British actor Rupert Everett), with a sharp mind, open to the possibilities of the paranormal, and understanding of the depths of human evil. So: unbiased towards the existence of zombies, vampires, the devil incarnate, and all the other usual suspects. His clients tend to be beautiful and somehow flawed women that Dylan usually falls for. He subsequently consummates his love, and invariably ends up with a broken heart. So now we know he’s heavily biased towards the fairer sex. His wisecracking assistant, Felix (who in the Italian versions is actually a mustachioed Groucho Marx!), is a constant barrage of horrible but guilty-pleasure inducing puns, and most anyone who meets him is immediately regretful of ever making his acquaintance.
Now you know that Dylan Dog has elements that a young 13-year-old Italian boy finds irresistible: monsters, intrigue, hot women, and slapstick humor. But why should you read it? Because as I grew older, while I could still revel in the simple candy-like, fast-paced action and fantastic and bizarre otherworldly drawing, I started to find that the ideas and feelings that were carefully spun in to many of the books were downright genius. From the touching love and the corresponding mirror of hate that all humans are shown to be capable of in the Johnny Freak story, to the loneliness evoked by Memories From the Invisible World, to the idea of a multi-dimensional Shangri-La in Zed, I am always amazed by how much the comic medium can make you feel. Nothing has ever come closer to fully describing exhaustion better than After Midnight, and Fata Morgana has got to be the best reality-bending dream-state zombie story ever. Period.
If you happen to pick up this tome (680 pages!) and end up liking it, you should keep your eyes out for the soon to released Dylan Dog feature film Dead of Night (from an AMC blog). A little to my dismay, Dylan Dog has been cast as Brandon Roush of Superman fame. I’m a little concerned that he’ll be a little too “soft.” But, if the movie ends up not doing the comic justice, we’ll still have the innumerable volumes of Dylan Dog to read.
Anyhoos, get this book, whatever it takes: buy it from us, borrow it from a friend, get it from the library, whatever. It’s a comic masterpiece. But, what do I know? As I said before, I’m biased.
