“Bliss” #1, from the creative team of Sean Lewis and Caitlin Yarsky is anything but. Our story begins with Perry Ohara, on the stand in the dilapidated courthouse of Feral City, pleading clemency for his disgraced father, Benton. The crowds are moaning in disbelief. The rafters sag, the cloth city tabards lie ruin. And worst of all, the mildewy, spittle pelting judge hollers with indignation. The whole place is wretched, but young Perry seems determined to make his case: how his father fell in line with some dangerous beings peddling a drug that literally turns your tears into your worst memories, which then seep out onto the ground. But that’s old news — what Perry really needs to share is a warning. There’s something else coming.
Cover by Caitlin YarskyBliss #1
Written by Sean Lewis
Art by Caitlin Yarsky
Reviewed by Kobi BordoleyThe team behind hit comic COYOTES returns for an all-new, two-arc maxi-series. There’s a drug called Bliss wiping away memories in Feral City. A good-hearted young man, overwhelmed by a deathly sick child and distraught wife, makes a deal to become the personal hitman to three gods, killing those in their way and sending memories down the river of Oblivion in exchange for his family’s well-being. Breaking Bad meets Neil Gaiman’s Sandman in an urban fantasy unlike any you’ve ever seen.
There’s a sense of theater to “Bliss” #1. In the clearest sense, the story begins with a man on a stage, speaking before a crowd. And the rest of “Bliss” #1 plays out like that. The prose reads at times like a soliloquy, which makes sense given Lewis’ history as a playwright. Because of this, the pace of the story feels almost elegiac. We get family history, where things went wrong, the hard choices made and their consequences. It’s very straight forward, and very in your face. However, “Bliss” #1 never comes off as overly moralizing. The reason is that Lewis wants to show us more than just grim underbelly of society (boring), but to have a conversation.
When we interviewed Lewis about a year ago, he made a point that his art was not didactic, but dialectic. Meaning, combine this art with something else: your thoughts, your social context, your relationship to the world, and come out with a new understanding. With that in mind, it’s likely that “Bliss” will twist and turn, moving through a lot of gray area. Themes of addiction, regret, and closure will all likely play a part. When “Bliss” #1 starts, Perry’s father is a destitute man, poor but trying his best to care for his ailing son. He appears gentle, overly cautious and easily bullied. At the same time, we see Perry pleading for redemption in a crowd full of hundreds of people, each alleged victims of his father’s destruction. The gulf between these two worlds will be where “Bliss” resides. Did some of those people have it coming? Probably. Does working for ill-mannered gods with unknown intentions mean doing some very dirty dirty work? Very likely. Given Lewis’ strong track record, the answers will not be easy.
While Lewis’ writing gives the story its soul, Yarsky’s artwork gives the world of “Bliss” #1 its edginess. To start, her colors are subtle yet evocative. Twilight purples, sunrise pinks, and pre-dawn blues wash over most panels in “Bliss” #1, giving the story a dreamy look. This makes sense, as so much of Perry’s family story feels like a bad dream, the kind where something awful is coming but you’re powerless to stop it. In terms of setting, Yarsky really hits the mark with Feral City, the veritable scene of the crime. Streets are seedy but filled with character. The city seems to spiral upward into endless skyscrapers, which somehow look both sterile and corporate yet intriguing and mysterious. In other words, Feral City has shades of both Gotham and Mos Eisley Cantina. In terms of setting, Yarsky really pulled this off.
Yarsky’s character drawing also hits the mark. In Feral City, everyone (save a certain grocery burgling ruffian) looks practically emaciated. Less in the sense that they’re starving, more in the sense that their thinness represents there impermanence in the world. In some panels, characters seem to In “Bliss” #1, life truly is fleeting. There are so many ways to describe the world Lewis and Yarsky have built, and “Bliss” has been described as part Sandman part American Gods part Breaking Bad. All these comparisons are apt. We’d add the following, though: most precisely, “Bliss” #1 feels like Charles Dickens meets Guillermo Del Toro. What does this mean? “Bliss” will have a lot to say, but will speak to us unconventionally, forcing a dialogue. That, and there will be monsters — both human and not.
Final Verdict: 8.7. Anchored by strong writing and elevated by moody art direction, “Bliss” #1 offers something sweet for urban fantasy fans.
