Prophet, Volume 1: Remission

On the one hand, I appreciated and admired the really classic, pulpy sci-fi goodness: this was imaginative and weird in the style of some of that really strange shit that was dropping in 1970s pulp sf. I'm thinking, in particular, of that Sean Connery movie where he's in space that I watched when I was feverish and 12 years old (BIG MISTAKE - SO FREAKY). On the other hand, this gave me the heebie jeebies. After two weeks of decompressing from its weirdness, I can now say: in a good way!

Prophet's interlinking stories have the same feverish quality as that Sean Connery movie: full of brutal, primal gore and heaps of ever-stranger. I mean, within the first few pages it's implied that John Prophet - recently awakened from cryo-sleep on a far future, unrecognizable Earth - has just had sex with what I believe the artist's sketches call a “chicken vagina monster” (or something to that effect). My reaction, similar to yours, was: UGH WHAT. See what I mean? This stuff is intense.

Indeed, things got so weird I had to put this down and sort of space out for a minute, if only because it was late and I was starting to seriously freak. But, when I picked it up again, my “annoyed at having to read quasi-horror” feelings melted away: this stuff is actually pretty amazing. I didn't want to review it immediately, but instead let it sit for a week or so, and, yeah, my liking for it has fermented and brewed. I'll definitely be following up on this weird, wild sci-fi (and I'm surprised to be saying I find it more enjoyable and more compelling than Brandon Graham's Multiple Warheads.