This review is going to be a difficult one to write. Every time I open Transmetropolitan: Volume Three Year of the Bastard I end up reading the damn thing all the way through again. I’m up to about four times now. Probably five by the time I manage to knock out this review. I take back everything I said previously about loving Transmetropolitan. That was just a schoolgirl crush, puppy love if you will. Year of the Bastard marks the true beginning of a full blown, intense, shout it from the rooftops love.
Volume Three, Year of the Bastard is the beginning of a major story arc in Transmetropolitan. Spider Jerusalem, professional muckraking journalist of the future, hits the campaign trail of the upcoming presidential election, doing all that he can to uncover the political corruption and deceit on all sides. The Beast, Spider’s political enemy, a larger than life all-American leader, is being taken on by hopeful upcomer Gary Callahan – nicknamed The Smiler for his constant and unfailing grin. Spider’s unbiased political position – he wants the best for the people, but doesn’t think that politicians will be able to offer real help – means he is free to report on the best and the worst of both sides. His ruthless honesty, his refusal to be bought, is admirable despite the toll it takes on his health and sanity.
I write a column for The Word newspaper called “I Hate It Here.” The joy of being in this City has worn off. I sense, vaguely, that I’m finally as beaten as everybody else. I sense everything vaguely, these days.
I’m not going to reveal too much of the narrative because the major pivotal point, a politically motivated assassination, has such a strong impact. It proves all of Spider’s cynical assumptions correct and betrays what little hope and faith he had in the campaign. A single page of the look of utter shock on Spider’s face, the background for once in the series just white space – none of the City’s technology or advertising crammed into the space – is just horrifying in it’s ability to convey so much emotion. This is something that I really like about Robertson’s art, the facial expressions are phenomenal. Much of the drama comes from human interaction and reaction, and the artwork is such an integral factor of the series’ appeal.
Royce: “One day a little over six years ago I went to Spider Jerusalem’s house, Yelena. We were missing a column, and I’d had enough. I had a gun. I was going to walk away with either a column or his heart. I found him in his house’s bath, his body covered in regenerative tape set to reinflate and re-wall his veins, shooting heroin into the skin between his toes. He was bleeding from the eyes because he’d rubbed cocaine into his tearducts thinking it’d keep him awake. Banging H into his feet because all his other veins had collapsed. His last book was being released, he was writing hugely popular columns. He was beloved for torturing the president in print weekly, he was all over TV and the feeds and whispered adoringly over at dinner parties. And then it all stopped. He was loved and rich, and suddenly he couldn’t write anymore. Not like he was, anyway. Spider Jerusalem needs to be in the City to write, Yelena. But he also needs to be hated.”
In amongst all the political scandal, Spider gets a new assistant, Yelena Rossini, and his previous assistant Channon returns as his bodyguard after a brief stint as a Bride of Christ in Fred Christ’s church. Spider has to deal with his public persona being sold as a commodity and the responsibility of being seen as the voice of the people, and does so by ingesting ridiculous amounts of legal and illegal drugs. A single story issue finishes off this volume, while still bitter and misanthropic, adds a little trademark black humour to what is otherwise an emotionally draining collection. Spider, alone in the City at Christmas time, expresses his hatred for the holiday season as well as revealing several distasteful new rituals that have taken hold.
Transmetropolitan just keeps getting better, even when I already thought it was amazing, sucking me into its horrid vision of our future and the search for Truth within it. Now to read Year of the Bastard a fifth time.
I want to read this!!! It reminds me of a more grown-up ‘Soon I Will Be Invincible’ by Austin Grossman. Also, the cover just screams “read me!”
Do it! C’mon, the outlaw journalist as superhero!
Going to check out Soon I Will Be Invincible too, sounds interesting.