Oh, the South, with your contradictions and your black and white morality that only makes sense if you don’t stare directly into it. Like the shape of the sun, I suppose. With your indirect language, rigid social structure and traditions runnin’ deep as live oak roots; you tell us we are as good as our daddy’s name, the number of points on that buck we killed that one time, or the record of our team our senior year. I know you, with your steely pride and confused convictions, your heroes and your egos, your poetry and your prejudice.
Lemme tell you somethin’, though — someone else knows who you are, you slippery devil, and they’re fixin’ to tell everybody.
Written by Jason Aaron
Illustrated by Jason LatourTHE EXPLOSIVE ENDING TO OUR FIRST ARC! Earl Tubb and his big stick finally come face to face with Coach Boss. This will not be pretty.
Before you can really know this story, you need to know the South.
The South is Tradition.
The conflict in “Southern Bastards” #4 stems from a tension between the way things have always been done, and the way they ought to be done. In the South, there is a great deal of importance connected with history. All kinds of history matter here; local history, revisionist history, family history, histories of violence and historical societies, just to name a few. We are not about the business of letting go of the past. So, it stands to reason that tradition is an important part of the motivation for each member of the cast of this book. Tradition makes Earl Tubb pick up his father’s stick and his role in the town. Tradition makes the county respect Coach Boss and his winning football program. Tradition brings the conflicts of this book to a boiling point in this issue.
The South is Pride.
Jason Aaron and Jason Latour introduce us to some amazing characters in “Southern Bastards.” In issue #4 it becomes clear just what is driving two central characters forward: pride. Earl Tubb, our would be hero who is driven by his ethics and sense of honor, is a prideful man in his own way. His pride comes from doing the right thing, taking care of those who cannot take care of themselves, and being a man of his word. Opposite Earl Tubb is the small-town kingpin, Coach Boss. Coach’s sin is also pride, which in his case, borders on vanity. Insisting on maintaining his prestige within Craw County at the expense of others, Coach is a cold authoritarian figure. These two seemingly opposing forces are actually two sides of the same coin. Minted by pride, they flip end over end as they grapple for power in the small Southern town.
The South is a Drawl.
Jason Aaron writes a great Southern dialect, bless his heart. Beyond capturing the actual phonetics and cadence of the character’s speech, Aaron has given this story a voice all its own. Complex and sincere, subtle and sharp, the tone of the story shows that Aaron has a way with both the sound and the fury of the South. The appropriate mix of profanity and propriety is difficult to strike, but here it’s done with true style. There is an integrity in his writing that makes this all seem true, and makes the hits hurt just that much more.
The South is Connections.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the voicemails that Earl has been recording for someone heretofore unknown, since the first issue of the series. A man like Earl Tubb wouldn’t waste words telling a story for no one to hear, but given a reason he becomes eloquent, insightful and entertaining. We can believe that this gruff man would cry real tears after seeing cruelty, because he tells us how deeply it affects him. Even if his words aren’t meant for us outsiders, they bring us into the world of “Southern Bastards” #4 in a meaningful way. In this issue we finally find out who Earl’s been reaching out to, and it makes the little quiver that has been present all along in the voice of this story make perfect sense.
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The South is Brutality.
Latour has given us some angry artwork in this series so far, and the intensity goes up another notch in this issue. He draws Earl Tubb as a man with heavy boots and a heavy heart, thick lines and sharp angles make him seem tough and rugged. Those same visual cues make Coach Boss a believable antagonist, despite the fact that this good ole boy gone bad wears tiny gym shorts and tube socks un-ironically. The environment of Craw Country is raw sinew; the setting feels like a living thing. Full of texture and depth each panel possesses a forceful energy and weight. Latour’s work displays a thoughtful economy, His hefty lines are absent from the backgrounds of some panels, and disappear completely in others. This allows these bold lines to create tension and direct focus when he does use them. Latour is unafraid to show it, the ugliness, the damage, the pain; his fearlessness creates a very tangible emotional connection to the world.
The South is Colorful Characters.
Latour’s crowd scenes in this issue of “Southern Bastards” are especially strong. There are no soft faces to be seen. Everyone is grizzled and suspicious; no one seems at ease. Each person on the panel is a character, little details create a context and a story for each individual, that give them a realistic feel. These are the people you speak to in the Wal Mart; who lift one hand from the steering wheel to wave as you pass on a winding country road; who you’ll see at the church social on Sunday, if it don’t rain; who want you to say, ‘hey’ to your mama an’em, on their behalf. They are the ones who just a’int never been right, and the ones who you know how they are… their whole family is that way. These people have stories and Latour gives them life.
The South is Oppressive Heat.
In addition to the expressive forms he creates, Latour’s color choices make this title stand out visually. His colors are hot and humid as summer in Alabama. Most notable is the choice to use a red palette for flashbacks. Nothing is blurred by time or presented in nostalgic black and white. No, here in Craw County memories are part of you. Earl’s memories, his history, his traditions are as integral a part of him as the flesh on his bones and the blood in his veins, these experiences make him who he is. Drenched in violence and struggle his memories give the reader insight into the reasons for his sense of obligation to the county and willingness to fight. There is a vicious double-page spread in this issue that cross cuts a violent brawl with Earl’s memories. Strong and silent, this twenty-four panel grid is a gorgeous example of the power of Latour’s visual storytelling.
The South is Us Vs. Y’all.
I come from a little town (if you could call it that; there’s not even a stop light) with more cows than people in Northern Louisiana. It seems that those of y’all who didn’t grow up in the American South might not understand why “Southern Bastards” is so revolutionary. Sure, anyone can tell it that it is a great story with compelling characters, or that LaTour’s art is brilliant; but this book does something all-together new. The Jasons Aaron and LaTour have dispensed with all the mind-your-manners, pomp-and-circumstance, nice-nasty bullshit that we Southerners have always hidden our astronomical numbers of skeletons in the closet beneath. We don’t talk about it, y’all, it’s not polite.
When telling our own stories we filter some of the ugliness through a hazy lens of moonlight and magnolias. We use our ample charm to obscure the truth of the many contradictions and dualities that make up the fabric of Southern culture. When outsiders get ahold of our stories, we become Foghorn Leghorn, Colonel Sanders or Forrest Gump; caricatures full of humor and ignorance, and while we have our fair share of both down here we are much more complicated than that. We tend to hold onto secrets, from our Mama’s cornbread recipe to our intimate knowledge of everyone else’s business. We protect our own and all the sordid secrets that go along with them, but we are all real tired of doing so.
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That’s why this book is so incredibly refreshing. It is an accurate depiction of these clandestine customs and the culture that perpetuates them. I, for one, think it’s about damn time someone got around to tellin’ this kind of story, and these boys are doin’ us proud.
Final Verdict: 9.0 – You’ll be wantin’ to send Mr. Aaron and Mr. Latour a handwritten thank you note on your finest stationary by the time you’re done.
