Superheroes tend to jump off the page at us, desperately welcoming us with garish uniforms and oversized action, but books like Gone I feel can be even more inviting, as they gently tease great stories hidden in between their covers. This is a world that's entirely dependent on its atmosphere, and while I can't say too much without giving away the great, shocking moments that each issue drops, I can say that - following the stream of consciousness of the protagonist, where it's just the reader and this one character - when the shoes begin to drop, even though the events might not seem like much, if I were to write them here, the power of the narrative is such that the revelations are incredible in the space they inhabit. It's the unique kind of pacing and tone that render everything with import.
The artwork is very simple, but not in an uncomplicated sort of way. Yeah, I know how that sounds, but the lack of definition allows the vastness of the spaceship to really hit home with us. It's a defined and well-utilized choice, centering the action in the middle of nothingness, letting the character drive the plot completely. As stark as the tree in Waiting for Godot, the emptiness becomes a physical presence, the lack becoming oppressive in a way that any deviation becomes a unique opportunity for distraction. This is the feeling that was echoed when prisoners saw the aforementioned play; they understood instinctively that very feeling of needful distraction, and this work meets that level wonderfully.
This is a great work to sit with and experience in the silence of a calm night. With the great amount of distraction available to us at any moment in our lives, the singular experience like this is a rare and most welcome treat. Turn it all off and find the wonder in the smallest moments again.
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