With Saga, Vaughan
and Staples have created what is perhaps the weirdest, dirtiest, most exhilarating
fantasy comic series of the decade. After trying the first issue for free via
the Comixology app, which spurred me to immediately ordering the trade
paperback collecting the first six issues, I was completely hooked and placed
an order for volume two. While I’m tempted to buy the third volume as the issues
are released, Saga’s narrative flow
gives it a genuine claim to being a graphic novel (rather than simply a collection
of comic episodes), so the collected format suits it well.
After the sheer mind-blowing strangeness of the first
volume, with its robot sex, phantom children and arachnoid assassins, volume
two was going to have a hard time making quite the same impact, and it’s true
that the shock of the new is now over. That said, Vaughan’s storytelling,
combined with Staples’s utterly spellbinding artwork pulled me into the story
once more, and I am more eager than ever to see how this tale develops.
A quick summary for the uninitiated: Saga is a science-fantasy story set in a universe where magic and
technology exist side-by-side. Vaughan has spoken about Star Wars being his inspiration, but has agreed that his creation
might be best described as Star Wars for
perverts. Where it goes further than Star
Wars is in embracing its magical angle, with an ingenious magical law that
requires each spell to be paid for with a secret. It’s a great way of forcing
characters to reveal certain facts about themselves that then spur the story on
in new directions.
The story takes place in some unknown galaxy, and although
there are recognisably human characters, there is no mention of Earth. This galaxy
has been subsumed by war, as numerous worlds are conscripted or coerced into
fighting on the side of either Landfall, the largest inhabited planet in the
galaxy, or its solitary moon Wreath. With the destruction of this planetary
system imminent, the technically sophisticated winged inhabitants of Landfall
fight the magically inclined, satyr-like people of Wreath on worlds throughout
the galaxy. On one such planet, Cleave, our heroes met: Landfallian gaoler
Alana and her Wreathean prisoner Marko. From there illicit union came the only
hybrid baby in the universe, Hazel, who narrates the series from a future
vantagepoint.
The story is driven by Alana and Marko’s desire to live a
quiet life together, and their need to protect their daughter from two
civilisations that despise her existence. With Hazel narrating, one might think
the jeopardy would be lessened, seeing that she must logically survive the
events of the narrative. However, in a universe where ghosts haunt woods made
from organic spacecraft and a leyak-like ghost child can be considered a
reliable babysitter, such a conclusion is not so definite.
Volume one ended with the unexpected arrival of Marko’s
parents, summoned by the destruction of his family’s sacred magical sword. It’s
this tortured family dynamic that drives the second volume, while the plot
itself is driven by their pursual by the Will, the galaxy’s finest assassin. While
Alana and Marko, in spite of their alien appearance, come across as genuine,
normal people in an extraordinary and dangerous situation, the human Will is a
more perversely complex character, with a skewed morality that gives him a
twisted nobility. His primary goal is not the capture of Alana and Marko -
although this is his official task – but vengeance for the death of his lover,
the Stalk, on her murderer, Prince Robot IV.
Ah yes, the Robot Kingdom. If there’s one image that could
stand for the strangeness of Saga, it’s
the television-headed Robot people, anatomically human but for this one strange
accoutrement and their literally blue blood. Yes, Robot people shit and shag,
just like everyone else, and are, for reasons as yet unclear, fighting on the
side of Landfall against the Wreatheans. No doubt the politics will become
clearer as we go on, but for now, it’s the sheer oddness of the imagery that is
compelling. Fiona Staples is the real star of this series, for without her
perfectly suited artwork, Vaughan’s universe would remain unrealised. She displays
an uncanny knack for creating relatable yet physically gorgeous characters,
while also creating some of the most perversely bizarre monsters ever seen in
comics. While the seahorse guy is a favourite, I’d be surprised if Staples can
ever top the monstrous beauty of the Stalk, the spider-woman assassin.
Saga has courted
controversy because of its sexual content, and it’s true that this is an ever present
element to this story. It’s missing the point to complain about this, however. The
core of this series is real people in an unreal universe, and real people have
sex. Couples who are perfectly mild-mannered and respectable in public go home and
lick each other’s asses, and Saga embraces
sex in all its beauty and dirtiness. This is not a children’s book, and it isn’t
pretending to be. This is a Star Wars where
Luke and Leia would have banged, even after they found out they were brother
and sister.
That’s not to say there’s no gratuitous elements. The major
controversy in this series occurred when Comixology refused to publish issue
twelve for iOS, citing the use of oral sex imagery that breached Apple’s rules.
The immediate objection to this was that many sex scenes had passed by this
point without protest, but since this particularly pair of images depicted gay
sex, they were reason enough to pull the issue. The issue was later made
available with an apology, and quite right too, although the scenes in question
were entirely gratuitous and, I suspect, were included primarily to bate the
censors. Then again, if Vaughan and Staples want to show a gay bukkake scene on
a robotic man’s television screen face, in the middle of a horrific battle
scene, who am I to refuse them?
What makes Saga so
well is the juxtaposition of the mundane and fairytale, the beautiful and
monstrous, the noble and obscene. This is a war story, but refuses to glory in
it, and as such does not shy away from the horrors that war creates, up to and
including collateral damage, prisoner abuse and child prostitution. The world
is a terrible place, and so is the galaxy of Saga. But more than that, at its heart, Saga is a story of parenthood, as Alana and Marko make tough
decisions in order to protect their daughter. Vaughan draws on his own
experiences of parenthood and embeds them in a fantastical universe, expressing
the love parents have for their children, while not being ashamed to admit that
they got their through carnal acts. It’s this honesty of storytelling, combined
with fine characterisation, unpredictable plotting and stunning artwork that
makes Saga such a trimph.
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