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As I said  in yesterday’s review, I have decided this weekend to write about two comic book creators whom I am most excited about for the next year. Yesterday I wrote about Paul Cornell, today I have chosen Jeff Parker. Now as it happens I have already reviewed a book by Parker – the whimsical Mysterius the Unfathomable. His comic book career continues to grow from strength to strength, and like Cornell, he evidences a strong fondness for a brighter, more fun spin on the stories he writes. Agents of Atlas, his superhero team book for Marvel Comics, is a wonderful example of comic book absurdism, with talking gorillas, vast global conspiracies and underworld (literally) societies. It was fun, refreshing and each issue left me wanting more.

For this earlier effort from Parker published by Virgin Comics, he has teamed up with Ashish Padlekar to fictionalise a series of episodes taken from the life of creator Dave Stewart. Now I already thought Stewart was cool – he and Annie Lennox were a bright light in my culturally sour 80’s childhood – but with this book he outstrips even that previous coolness cachet.

What I really want to know is, when Stewart was a young fellow jaunting around Europe did he really meet a psychic octopus? According to Parker’s script something like that happened…

Well in fact the story of Walk In concerns a young Mancunian named Ian who has a habit of blacking out and finding himself in strange locations with no idea of how he got there. Recently these episodes have gotten worse and he has found himself coming to in new countries, with no memory of what he has done. In an attempt to cope with the dislocation, Ian begins to frequent strip clubs. They provide a decent cover for his unusual behaviour, plus there is complimentary food (and naked ladies).

He begins to experience visions after he arrives in Moscow, visions that he uses as part of a variety act at a strip club named Deja Vu. It appears his black outs have bestowed upon him the gift of being able to surf the patrons’ subconscious. He works for tips, is given floorspace to sleep on at an apartment belonging to two of the club’s strippers Astrid and Valery (shared with a German band named Doppelganger) and becomes a permanent fixture at the club, with his act as ‘The Dream King’.

His increasing fame draws the attention not only of the club patrons, but two sinister shaven headed twins who appear to be following him. Also his visions begin to become more elaborate. Not only is he witness to people’s dreams, he begins to see individual auras as well, not to mention the odd appearances of an octopus around Astrid’s neck. Finally one night, after hours of listening to Doppelganger’s turgid experimentalism, he goes into a trance state and sees an incredible futuristic vista of flying vehicles, incredible buildings and people resembling the unusual twins. Has he completely lost his mind, or is Ian actually stretched between two worlds.

Oh and there’s a talking bear from Sussex who is not too fond of string theory. Just throwing that plot detail out there.

This is a fantastic book. Also, given the locale of Ian’s adventures with drug dealers, Russian mafia and strippers, the tone is surprisingly innocent. Parker’s script gives Padlekar plenty of opportunities to include funny little details in the panels, such as a Pizza Hut sign in Cyrillic script, or Ian’s ‘Dream King’, costume resembling Dr. Strange‘s duds. There are also plenty of hints scattered throughout as to where the plot is going, such as Valery hearing from a fortune teller that she will lose her heart to a man with long hair. It does happen, but not in the way she expects.

The book itself is also very funny – the talking bear is also a sharpshooter, I love that damn bear – and Ian’s weary acceptance of his increasingly weird life is well described. His narration to the reader is audible to the other characters, who assume he is crazy. If you’re looking for a comparison, think Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time, but with a psychic octopus and some strippers with hearts of gold. Padlekar’s art is somewhat cartoonish, which adds to the slightly innocent tone as mentioned above, with plenty of opportunities given for psychedelic excess during Ian’s visions of the futureworld.

Strongly recommended folks, Parker is someone to watch for the future.

I sat there, chest damp, exposed and chilled. The room was entombed in darkness: the hour of night when not so much as a squeaky brake disturbed the silence. But I had seen something in an instant, a single flash. A child lying next to me in the bed. Grinning, eyes narrowed in mischievous glee, chewing its fingers, wondering if it would be caught in a naughty, practical joke. I sighed. Of course – it had been my Friend.

“Are you there?” I whispered. “Are you there?”

For years I had an interest in therapy, the theories of Freud, Lacan and Jung. It’s no accident that one of my favourite writers is Slavoj Zizek, himself a Lacanian. The relationship between an analyst and a patient is an interesting one. Freud talked about the phenomenon of transference, how the analysand will often attempt to circumvent the process of therapy by attempting to become involved with them emotionally.

Today I find aspects of blogging culture, which of course I am a part of, interesting for how its plays with notions of inviting strangers into our personal lives. This blog, the circumstances of my application for residency in Australia and the lengths I am willing to go to while waiting by reviewing a book each day, is itself a function of this new culture. How honest are we to our blog readers though, to the people in our lives, to the care professionals who sit with us to discuss our issues? As a part of society we are so practiced in the art of playing roles that it is difficult to relinquish them, even when our honesty is essential.

Justin Evans’ book rests on the question of a child’s honesty. George Davies is still recovering from the loss of his father, who died mysteriously after a trip to Honduras. With academics for parents, George never really had a chance in the schoolyard. His vocabulary is overly developed, he can speak German and Latin and his conversation is more suited to a discussion of scholarly pursuits than the aggressive banter of the boys of his age. In short, he is desperately lonely and needs a friend. Then one night George spies a face starring at him, suspended in mid-air. Shortly after that he begins to hear voices calling his name and finally the spectre of a boy comes for him to show him visions of the afterlife.

George’s new friend tells him many things and hints to a conspiracy lying behind the death of his father. He alleges that a family friend, Tom Harris, is responsible for convincing Paul Davies to travel to Honduras. This was all part of a plot to steal away George’s mother and kill her husband. Slowly but surely the young boy becomes convinced and sets about trying to prove that his father was murdered.

Justin Evans begins this story with the adult George Davies entering therapy following the birth of his own child, years after the events described during his childhood in the early 80s. He feels a strange sense of revulsion at the thought of being close to his son, one that deeply alarms his wife. George’s therapist encourages him to write about what happened to him following the death of his father. She argues that the things he heard and saw where the hallucinations of a deeply disturbed eleven-year old. However, the exercise of writing allows George to revisit his feelings from that dark period of his life, including the suspicion that maybe he was not a troubled boy in need of medication. Perhaps he was possessed by a demonic doppelganger.

This is a gripping debut from Justin Evans. He gives equal attention to the development of the psychiatric perspective of the events, as well as the mystical interpretation. The question of whether George is indeed mad, possessed, or simply a compulsive liar remains ambiguous. The character of George’s sceptical mother is well-realized, a liberal feminist whose studies into critical theory are curtailed by the glass ceiling in the academic system. Her son’s resentment of her growing affection for another man is cleverly drawn out. I just felt the ending slightly predictable, but overall this is a very interesting novel.

Think William Blatty’s The Exorcist, with a stronger understanding of psychology.

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