It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye – or a trailer full of clues in a mysterious fire. Joe Bradley’s search for her missing friend Mac Guffin has yielded a number of clues, but no actual answers, and the deeper Joe dives into this mystery, the less likely it seems that she’s going to come out alive. Not even a day tucked away at the library can stop the storm that’s coming. Written, drawn, colored and lettered by Tyler Boss.
The trouble with something so rigidly defined is that when it starts to break its format – even after a mere two issues – it gets very alarming, very fast. Given that something sinister was clearly going on in this issue, I was waiting for things to start spinning out of control, but I was not prepared for how much it would get to me. Despite all the clues offered, it doesn’t feel like our protagonist Joe Bradley is any closer to finding answers – but she’s definitely close to the end.
The first indication that something was off was right on page one – moving right in, close and personal, with our unnamed omniscient narrator as he watches a film. The rules, I thought, are that he stays facing the reader in one fixed place, indifferent to the world around him, until the time comes at the end of each issue to step up and sympathize with Joe Bradley. To maintain distance from the story, not to show he’s subject to the passage of time by mentioning he’s spent the intervening issues doing mundane things like bathing, sleeping, and eating. I shouldn’t be this dependent on a series’ rules when it’s just on its third issue, but Tyler Boss has managed to master one of the most understated talents of mystery writers everywhere: the ability to lull the reader into a false sense of security.
There is a solidness to Boss’ storytelling. When a panel or a piece of dialogue establishes something, it feels real, it feels solid, in a way you can trust, even in a story that’s all about conspiracy, even when it features a narrator who may be charming but isn’t the easiest to trust. With the cozy colors of a small town, and the slow, meticulous gathering of clues, you’re put at ease. A part of the reason for that is to make the creeping sense of unease all the more disturbing, but in issue #3, when things start going wrong, it’s so much more frightening. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
We may not have an inner monologue from Joe letting us into her head, but it’s clear that she’s not doing well. The mystery she’s picking at is only getting more bizarre, more dangerous, and she’s no closer to finding her friend Mac Guffin than she was when she started. Her remaining clues offer no answers, but keep rearranging themselves into the Pendermills symbol that’s been coming up repeatedly throughout the series. For the first time, I wonder if Joe herself has seen the symbol – she’s not acknowledged it, no matter how many times it’s come up. Is it the one part of the mystery that she can’t see, that’s left for the readers to view?
In any case, Joe might have had her first real brush with danger, but she’s not backing down. She heads to the library to follow up on the only leads she has: a list of names of people who have been marked special in the town’s book of records for reasons unknown. People who include Mac Guffin and Joe’s own father. What follows here is a lovely sequence I wish comics did more of, as in the space of a couple of pages Boss lays out what feels like hours of painstaking research. The discovery of clues and the steadfast way Joe has gone about her detective work has been a big part of this series. The sheer amount of detail put in slows the pace of the issue down beautifully – you really feel the time that Joe has put into this.
Her investigation takes a pause for a story from our blue-suited narrator, telling us a fable of a hare who outwitted the dogs chasing it, even though the images clearly contradict the story being told. The hare, despite its cleverness, is surrounded by its hunters and left with nowhere to run. It’s a scene that’s both ominous and breathtakingly lively.
The color choices of the following scene are particularly striking. Throughout the series we’ve been treated to the colors of a softer lighting, be it day or night, indoors or out. As a snowstorm rages, as the lights begin to fade, and Esper picks Joe up to tell her one final time to back off the investigation, the colors are suddenly a lot darker: more saturated and vivid. Like the world’s been behind a dusty window frame that’s now rolled down. It’s another deviation from the norm the comic’s established, and it’s effectively unsettling.
Joe’s last stop this issue is to the home of Freddy Quil, the one man who admits he knows what’s going on – the first time someone acknowledges all is not well. It’s a slow-paced, quiet lead-up to the reveal, and it’s fascinating how it’s handled. Freddy offers no answers: the reveal itself is the simple admission that there is a pattern, after months of denial and dead ends. The mystery is unsolved, but the horror that’s been lurking beneath has very quietly lifted away its mask to confirm your fears that there is, indeed, something terrifying going on – now would you like some tea?
The juxtaposition of the mundane and comforting with the growing unease and horror is what makes this book’s moments linger long after they’ve passed. It’s a horror that weaves its way into you with a pervasiveness that, like the reappearing swirly symbol, is never actually acknowledged. As the climactic issue gives way to a very literal definition of falling action, the book’s unease evolves into alarm. I’m afraid for Joe in a way that’s rare for me, and it’s a testament to just how perfectly the story’s been laid out so far. I’m always eager for the next issue of Dead Dog’s Bite, but now?
I’m dreading it just as much.
