Bitch Planet Book 1

Bitch Planet Book 1: Extraordinary Machine, Kelly Sue DeConnick (Writer) & Valentine De Landro (Artist) – 2015

(As ever with comics, it's impossible to tell the level of collaboration that went into the book, so I'm treating the ideas and the writing as the accredited writer's, and the style and artwork as that of the artist's)

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of violence against women, misogyny and other things that may feel too relevant right now.

Satire and humour are not the same thing. A joke may be satirical, just as a satirical work may elicit a laugh, but the point of satire is that 'prevailing vices or follies are held up to ridicule'1. Though one may end up laughing at these vices or follies, satire should also provoke discomfort, anxiety and, if the 'prevailing vices' are bad enough, anger. Unfortunately, satire is mostly seen in the 21st Century as comedians making rude jokes about a politician's stupidity and getting a mixture of laughs and 'oohs' of appreciation from the audience that they dared to be so bold. In some publications, Private Eye being the main one in Britain, the humour becomes more complex, more vicious and biting. And then occasionally we find ourselves with a work devoid of all humour, save only the occasional, very bitter laugh, rough, ready and pulsing with frustration and anger.

With that said, lets look at Kelly Sue DeConnick's Bitch Planet: 

In the very near future, non-compliant women are shipped off-world and incarcerated for life in a facility that the Earth authorities label the Auxiliary Compliance Unit, but is referred to almost universally as Bitch Planet. 'Non-compliant' can denote a number of things, from too fat to too thin, too loud to too shy, too prudish to too sexual, too queer or too black, and those too defiant of the system. Amongst the newest detainees are Kamau Kogo, a black former professional athlete before the new regime began, Meiko, a nimble young woman of Asian descent, and Penny, a huge woman whose formidable size is made up equally of fat and muscle. When, on Earth, the President, now known as 'The Father', decides that view ratings of Megaton, the globally favoured sport, are dropping off, he decides that a team should be assembled from the ranks of Bitch Planet.
If much of the synopsis sounds familiar, that's because it is. DeConnick borrows liberally from classic SF, be it the concept of an off-world prison or the idea of the ruler of the world using the viewing figures of the world's principal sport to measure his control. Where Bitch Planet rockets ahead of its predecessors is in the use DeConnick makes of these tropes, the satiric nature of the material and the fire with which she writes. Satiric fiction can be a very difficult genre to sustain, as the audience's engagement can waver once the point is grasped, but DeConnick manages this by demonstrating in her varied characters, amongst them an athlete and a designer of spacecraft, the brilliance, the warmth and the genius that is cast aside and ignored, because it is embodied women that the male populace find unpalatable. She shows, seriously and humourlessly, how many women have submitted and adapted to be 'compliant', some even working directly as guards and agents of the regime and spouting their rhetoric, whether they believe it or not. In portraying the men of Earth, we see DeConnick is likewise subtle; rather than having them make grandiose bigoted statements about women, she demonstrates the insidiousness of the misogyny in small exchanges and everyday interactions, patronising questions and condescending remarks that are barely an exaggeration of what one hears in real life. One such example involves a man saying he will run something past his wife, and his colleague advising him not to mention that, because people 'might get the wrong idea'2. Though she only uses it sparingly, DeConnick also includes a religious rhetoric, which has been carefully adapted, seemingly by the regime, around the central idea of God the Father, in order to further the self-righteous justification of this ruling patriarchy.

A Guardian review of the first three issues decries the lack of polish and finesse, but this criticism seems to slightly miss the point; Bitch Planet is DeConnick's own raw, violent reactionary response to the zeitgeist, and nowhere is this rawness more apparent than in De Landro's emotive artwork. In De Landro's hands, the violence feels far more real than is normally found in comics; every punch thrown by an inmate has weight as it lands, and in each gut-wrenching instance of guard-on-inmate violence one can almost feel the blows fall. It is also notable that, though there is continual nudity, as prisoners both arrive nude and often interact in the shower where they gain the closest thing they get to privacy, none of it is remotely sexual, not even when characters are acting in an overtly sexual manner. The colouring, suggestive at all times of stark, harsh lighting adds to the atmosphere, whether to show the oppressive nature of the prison or, back on Earth, to imply the tensions within the patriarchal paradise, that are already placing a strain on it.

In the very recent political climate, stories like Bitch Planet are crucial and one only has to look at the resonance that it's had to see this. There is a symbol used in the comic to denote a non-compliant, which appears on all their prison jumpsuits and this insignia has now become an underground phenomenon, with hundreds of women getting the symbol as a tattoo. If reading Bitch Planet, or even my review of it, makes you uncomfortable: good*. It is not mean to be a comfortable read. Satirical far beyond any humour, gloriously, furiously feminist and blazing with DeConnick's own anger, Bitch Planet is unrelenting, uncompromising and, now more than ever, necessary.

*Kelly Sue DeConnick herself has done a wonderful talk about the importance of being uncomfortable, which I was a fan of even before I'd read her work. ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaxkgZ3eLak


Available from the good folk at Image Comics: https://imagecomics.com/comics/series/bitch-planet

1 The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, volume 2, Third edition, 1983


2DeConnick, Kelly Sue, Bitch Planet: Extraordinary Machine, Image Comics, 2014

The Bridge

Hi all,

Am currently in the heated midst of NaNoWriMo so have not had time to write anything this week. Instead, here's a really short thing I wrote a little while ago, before all the crap this year really took off, but seems relevant. Interpret it as you like, unless you take it that I am a Trump supporter, a professional athlete or a tap dancer...I am none of these things.

The Bridge 

Image copyright to https://www.pexels.com/photo/grayscale-photo-of-bridge-24495/

Though very early it was bright and clear, and the Inspector sat in his booth, staring down the long stretch of bridge upon which might appear at any moment some soul wishing to pass onto government land. He, of course, would take a moment or two to question them, see what sort of a person they were and what business they might be about, and then press the button to make the barrier rise and allow them entrance to his country.
It was not long before the first figure of the day appeared, and an odd customer they were too. One moment the bridge seemed clear, the next a faint voice said,
"Please will you raise the barrier that I may pass."
The Inspector peered through the glass and couldn't see anything, but he knew when he'd heard a voice all right, and he clambered out of the hut and leaned over the barrier. It was a very small person before him, almost a child, with very delicate features and skin white as a sheet. There was something distinctly strange about the figure; indeed the Inspector found he had to keep blinking and refocusing his eyes in order to see them at all, and he didn't like it one bit.
"And what may you be about?"
"Please," The voice seemed no louder close by than it had in the booth, and the Inspector at once found the quiet, pleading tone to be highly grating. "Please allow me entrance to your land."
"That's no answer to my question. What business do you have here?"
"I have travelled far, fleeing from my brother. Please allow me sanctuary in your land!"
Oh ho, the Inspector thought, so they admit to being trouble before I've even had to ask their history.
"That's no business of mine. I can see quite clearly you've no business here. We've enough troubles of our own without you adding to them!"
He turned away, and the quavering voice, desperate now, cried,
"Do not turn me away! It will be the end of me if my brother finds me!"
That did it, the Inspector thought.
"There's plenty of places you can hide from your brother without coming into our country. Be off with you."
He didn't look back, and by the time he was back in the booth, the odd figure had gone.
Good, he thought, and settled himself in his chair for a little snooze, content in a good morning's work.

The sun blazed in the sky, and the Inspector sat, cramming a grated cheese sandwich into his mouth. He reached for another crisp, but before his sweaty hand reached the salty bag, a double bass of a voice thundered,
"HELLO IN THERE!"
Grunting, nearly choking, the Inspector hauled himself from his seat and made his way out to lean on the barrier, stopping for a couple more crisps; when he saw the figure before him, one of these fell to the ground from his open mouth.
The man must have been seven feet tall, and broad with it. Long chestnut hair and beard framed the fat face, which beamed down at the Inspector in a way that irritated him at once.
"And who may you be? And what's your business?"
"I SEEK ENTRANCE TO YOUR LAND, FRIEND."
The giant smiled his stupid smile at him as if that would make everything all right.
"And why should I let you in?"
The smile slipped slightly, and the huge brow crinkled in surprise.
"I THOUGHT MY BROTHER HAD ALREADY COME THIS WAY. HE IS MY ELDER BROTHER, AND WE FLEE FROM OUR YOUNGEST-"
Ah, the Inspector thought, this is all starting to make a bit more sense: bad enough one weirdo trying it on, a whole family of them can be damned!
"Your brother was here all right, and I told him what I'm telling you: you're not coming over here!"
"YOU TURNED HIM AWAY?" The Inspector smiled to himself to see that stupid smirk properly wiped off the big man's face.
"Exactly. We don't want any of your lot around here. Clear off."
The giant looked crestfallen and the Inspector turned and stalked away to finish his lunch. Behind him, the oaf started,
"BUT, OUR YOUNGER BROTHER-"
"Your little brother can shove off too, and I'll tell it to him as well if he comes!" The Inspector didn't bother looking back, and simply re-entered the booth. He took a glance out of the window and frowned: the big man must have moved quickly for all his bulk as the bridge was deserted.

It was night, and the Inspector, having exhausted the possibilities of the little television provided, pulled himself out of his chair, and out into the night sky for a breath of air. He leaned on the barrier, looking out at the stillness and sighed, congratulating himself on another day's good work. Then he stopped, and looked a bit closer.
There seemed to be something moving in the still night, a deeper darkness swaying and shifting. He squinted at it, then started in alarm: it was moving towards him, a velvety, flowing blackness coming quickly upon him.
"Hey, stay right there, don't try and come through!"
But it was no good, for the shadow passed through the barrier and over him and on, beyond the body that now lay on the bridge.

Tiger! Tiger!

Tiger! Tiger!, Alfred Bester – 1955

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of rape

It is one of the most oft-repeated and oft-invoked tropes of fiction that a protagonist does not have to be good, heroic, or likeable in order to be compelling. The anti-hero is an increasingly popular device, one need only look at the slew of recent media from The Sopranos to Game of Thrones, the focus on a broken, vengeful Batman in That-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named to Walter White in Breaking Bad, or the movie John Wick to the TV Narcos in order to see this. But, as many of these examples prove, there is a difference between a brooding, driven protagonist who may, Dirty Harry style, do unpleasant things in the pursuit of justice, and a creator actively choosing to make their central character a monster. This, as I noted in my review of Suicide Squad, comes with certain difficulties, and requires great skill on the artist's part in order to keep us engaged with the character, without glamorising or romanticising the awful actions they commit. And with that, I introduce an early S/F example, Mr Gully Foyle. 

In a universe where, centuries before, unassisted teleporting using only the power of the mind has become the normal way to travel thousands of miles instantly, mechanic Gully Foyle is trapped, floating alone through space on the spaceship Nomad, where he has been for half a year. No one can teleport (or jaunting, as it is named after the scientist Jaunte who first discovered the technique) through space and so, every couple of days, he makes the dangerous swim through airlessness to scavenge supplies from another section of the wrecked ship. He is a dull, slow, easy going man, capable, but utterly without ambition, until one day his salvation is at hand; the ship Vorga-T: 1339 notices his distress call, approaches the Nomad, and promptly turns and leaves Foyle alone. At this moment, Foyle is re-born into a ruthless, violent and unstoppable man whose only goal is to find and kill whoever gave the order to abandon him. From a colony of hermits where he gains some very distinctive tattoos, to the inescapable space prison that Foyle soon breaks free from, to the glittering heights of the galaxy's high society, Foyle hunts his quarry, blackmailing, raping and killing as he pleases, while being pursued by secret service, business conglomerates and armies, who search for a secret he doesn't even know he possesses. The only thing that perturbs Foyle, however, is the man on fire, a terrifying apparition who keeps appearing to him, burning bright…

Bester's vision of the future is very much of its time. A civil war rages between the outer and inner planets of the solar system, and the military intelligence of both sides are searching for a weapon of unbelievable power, the use of which would immediately determine the victor. The Macguffin here is called PyrE (as ominous an acronym between pyronic alloy and “E, the energy symbol”1 as you could wish for) rather than 'nuclear power' but the comparison seems obvious. Indeed, as with all the greatest SF/F, Bester uses the genre to comment on human nature. Bester's point is simple, no matter how far the future and no matter how extraordinary the advancements, such as teleportation through sheer will power, a new weapon will always be being sought, and the rich will always dominate.

Indeed, one of the best elements of the novel is Bester's depiction of the power and affluence of the rich of the galaxy, all of which is embodied in Presteign of Presteign. The idea that, in a world where everyone can teleport, it becomes a status symbol not to do so, is a wonderful one. Presteign's house is suffused with 'elevators, housephones, dumb-waiters and all the other labour saving devices which jaunting had made obsolete', while the arrivals at his social event are made by 'band wagon', 'glass-topped Greyhound Bus' and 'Esso-fuelled gasoline buggy'. The satire is complete when Geoffrey Fourmyle, Foyle's foppish alias, arrives by slow moving, private train, with men running before him to lay the track.

But burning at the heart of Tiger! Tiger! is the tiger himself, Gully Foyle. Entering the novel as a man of only “physical strength and intellectual potential stunted by lack of ambition”2, his desertion by Vorga prompts a sea-change within the man, reducing him to such savagery that even his lover describes him as 'Liar...Lecher...Tiger...Ghoul. The walking cancer...Guly Foyle'3, a phrase that is contrasted in the text with the line from Hamlet, 'remorseless, lecherous, treacherous, kindless villain'4. Foyle is a monster of the highest calibre, manipulating and brutalising anyone he wants to, especially Robin Wednesbury, whom he first rapes, then later recruits to act as his confederate. However, as stated, Bester's concern is human nature, so Foyle, having undergone extensive surgery to rid himself of distinctive facial tattoos, finds himself with severe nerve damage, so that under stress 'he saw the old tattoo marks flaming blood-red under the skin, turning his face into a scarlet and white tiger mask'5. Therefore as Jiz, his then lover remarks to him, 'You'll have to learn control now, Gully'6. An even greater change occurs for Foyle when, mid-way through the novel, he encounters the cold and beautiful Olivia Presteign, and discovers in her contempt for him that which he initially believes to be love, but is really the beginnings of self-awareness. From here he continues to grow, faced with impossible moral decisions that only he can make, as well as the overwhelming remorse for his previous behaviour. Bester uses Foyle to trace humanity's rise from savagery to awareness, and, with the mystery of the Burning Man who haunts Foyle finally solved, perhaps beyond, as Foyle is able to utter this exchange with himself, in the final pages:

“I believe,” he thought. “I have faith.”
He jaunted again and failed again.
“Faith in what?” he asked himself, adrift in limbo.
“Faith in faith,” he answered himself. It isn't necessary to have something to believe in. It's only necessary to believe that somewhere there's something worthy of belief.'

Tiger! Tiger! Is an extraordinary novel, if not without flaws. The rape of Robin Wednesbury occurs only to demonstrate Foyle's savagery, and although she does reappear as an interesting and fully developed character in her own right, there are some uncomfortable overtones of her now being obsessed with her attacker. Using rape as a plot device, particularly when the narrative is not centred around the victim, is best avoided, and, though the book was obviously written over half-a-century ago, to a modern reader it's inclusion feels unnecessary. Overall, however it is an excellent book, brilliantly invoking William Blake's poem, and crafting with it a SF tale that is at once haunting and uplifting.

P.S. If you're from England, the names are great fun, as he used an English telephone directory for them, hence Dagenham, Yeovil, Sheffield and others.

I am reading from an old Penguin edition, but a newer version will be available in any good bookshop!


1 Bester, Alfred Tiger! Tiger!, Penguin Books, 1974.p. 209
2 pp. 15
3 pp. 99
4 pp. 104

5 pp. 108

6 pp. 107

Sex Criminals vol. 2

Sex Criminals vol. 2: Two Worlds, One Cop, Matt Fraction (writer) Chip Zdarsky (artist) - 2015

(Once again, though I am now even more aware that Fraction and Zdarsky work collaboratively, as I will never know whose idea was whose, I am still attributing the layout and artwork to Zdarsky and all writing and characterisation to Fraction) (Also, not bothering with referencing, as the volume doesn't have page numbers!)

For those just joining us now, when Suzie and Jon have sex, time stops. Literally. When either orgasm they enter a state (The Quiet to Suzy, Cumworld to Jon) of neon swirls and JJ Abrams style lens-flares, where time stands still and which lasts until they are ready to go again. And Suzie, desperate to save her local library from foreclosure, and Jon, desperate to get back at the soul crushing bank he works at, decide to use the Quiet to steal the money needed from the bank. When they do so, however, they are interrupted by the white-clad Sex Police, led by a woman dubbed 'Kegalface' by Suzie, from whom they barely manage to get away. More details: https://takeareadonthedark-side.blogspot.co.uk/2016/07/sexcriminals-volume-1-2014-matt.html

Back with Jon and Suzie, as Jon succinctly states, 'honeymoon's over'. Having been deeply shaken by their encounter with the mysterious Sex Police during their disastrous burglary of the bank, Suzie and Jon are laying low. However, Jon's mental health issues begin to cause problems as he develops hypochondria and paranoia, specifically that they are being continually monitored by the Sex Police, and though Suzie attempts to support him, eventually he uses the Quiet to break into the leader of the Sex Police's home. They take a break, and begin to recover, Jon through meeting a new therapist and Suzie by visiting her new gynaecologist Robert Rainbow (yup…) who asks her out for coffee. Robert is also, it turns out, one of Jon's childhood friends, and when the three, along with Suzie's friend Rachael, all collide by accident, what could have been an awkward and ugly encounter actually helps to heal everything. That is, until they turn the corner, and see the library being demolished by order of the Sex Police, of whom the owner of the bank is a member. After a furious and much-needed second argument, Suzie and Jon, reunited at last, decide it's time to 'fuck with the Sex Police for fucking with us'. And, using the files that Jon stole from Kegalface about other people like them who are being monitored by Sex Police, they start recruiting Nick Fury-style, starting with a Dr Ana Kincaid, aka Rae Anne Toots, aka Jazmine St. Cocaine, former porn star and leading light of Jon's teenage years… 

All rights to Matt Fraction, Chip Zdarsky and Image Comics

If all of this sounds considerably heavier than the previous volume, that's because it is. For the whole first issue of the anthology Jon is coloured only in monochrome, a perfect visual representation of his disconnect and growing depression, and his mental health is one of the most keenly explored elements of the book. In giving Jon's problems the spotlight, Fraction and Zdarsky not only present someone dealing with their mental health, and often in a mildly unhealthy way, such as self-medicating with the drugs he used before, but do so in a warm and non-judgemental manner. Indeed, they subtly demonstrate several important factors in managing mental health issues, such as the benefits of exercise (without suggesting it is a magical cure-all) and that if therapy is not working, chances are that a different therapist is needed. Fraction and Zdarksy also poignantly show how it can be to live with such issues, and how difficult it is for Suzie trying to deal with her own problems, as well as support Jon. Even as Jon recovers, he struggles both with the idea of loving Suzie and of telling her that he does, stating to his therapist that 'I'm in no shape for something like that…A few months ago I was off my meds, freecycling all over the goddamn place between mania and full-bore panic attacks'.

Having said this, though poignancy rather than joy may be the dominant emotion throughout most of Volume 2, this is still Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarksy. From the dick-pics that Rachael has received that horrify Robert, to the multiple awful parodies of porn, to the note stuck on Dr Kincaid's door, each issue in the volume has at least one laugh out loud moment, and dozens of sniggers interwoven with the darker elements. Even during the massive shouting match that will either end, or reconcile, Suzie and Jon, Fraction himself keeps chipping in with increasingly frantic comments like 'Really, Jon?' or 'Ooph. C'mon, Suzie', which his characters are obviously unable to hear.

Indeed, though the tone is more serious and mournful this time around, Fraction's deft touch never wavers. The depiction of Ana Kincaid's life from Rae Anne Toots, by way of Jazmine St. Cocaine to university professor, which contains an injury that killed much of her genital sensitivity (making it difficult for her to orgasm), porn performing and drug addiction – as well as an uproariously funny nod to another excellent comic, the Wicked and the Divine – is handled excellently by Fraction. One element of this is allowing her to narrate her own story, in her own terms, and Fraction manages to pitch her voice, intelligent, practical and only slightly bitter, exactly right. In a superb touch, he also allows a far more educational element into the text, as when Suzie speaks to Robert regarding the unfortunate effects the pill is having on her, he responds with an entire page of advice on contraception taken straight from Planned Parenthood. It is made interesting and engaging, and wonderfully shows Fraction's socially responsible (to sound very grown-up about it!) attitude to writing about sex superpowers. Alongside this, is Robert's own backstory, in which we are reminded that everyone, no matter how nice or normal, has their own sexual hangups and baggage.

Zdarsky's contribution is also magnificent, and never more so than in the quiet moments. Although once again he creates some beautiful images and colours for the set-pieces, particularly the final pages, it is his drawing of the space, literal and metaphorical, between Jon and Suzie as they grow apart and closer again, that gives these moments such power. Also, once again the man's phenomenal talent for facial expressions is on full display, most of all on the beautiful two pages of the pair sitting on a park bench, where Jon concludes 'It's hard, but it's probably worth it'. Zdarsky is also responsible for the image of Jon, having broken into Kegalface's house and facing off against her husband, wielding a double-ended dildo like Darth Maul's lightsabre, which is, I hope you'll agree, a thing to be cherished.

Sex Criminals Vol. 2 is a beautiful, poignant and utterly life-affirming read, and, as with the first volume, the overwhelming urge is simply to scream 'BUY IT! READ IT!' at the top of my lungs.

And of course, on the penultimate page, we have what is probably the greatest sentence it is possible to leave your protagonists faced with: 'Wait, you aren't weird sex ghosts too? Huh.'


Link to Image Comics page where this magnificent book is available: https://imagecomics.com/comics/releases/sex-criminals-vol.-2-two-worlds-one-cop-tp