It seems that Aftershock have had a habit lately of combining their titles with themes of horror or hellish tones. From “Blood Blister” to “Babyteeth,” these themes, especially tied in with an underlying theme of family, have become very prevalent. So when I saw “Her Infernal Descent” solicited, a comic about a mother travelling to hell to save her children, I was intrigued. What does this comic have to offer that those others don’t already do?
Written by Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson
Illustrated by Kyle Charles
Colored by Dee Cunniffe
Lettered by Ryan FerrierA tale of loss told in five parts. Any good mom would march through the inferno of HELL to get her family back.
Unable to cope with the burden of grief, a middle-aged mom descends the nine circles of hell to retrieve her forsaken family. Guided by the ghosts of William Blake and Agatha Christie, this no-nonsense mother journeys deep into a bizarre underworld filled with celebrity sinners, surreal landscapes, and absurd tasks. HER INFERNAL DESCENT is a retelling of Dante’s Inferno that updates the themes for a modern audience.
From the writers of the break-out hit The Dregs, and the artist of Roche Limit, this is HELL like you’ve never seen before.
Like the best of hell-related literature, Nadler and Thompson give this comic a kind of free-wheeling, slowly spiralling pace. We start with a tactful recollection via internal monologue of a nameless mother character of the loss of her family, and her mostly vain attempts to live on. It’s an interesting look into her thought process considering that this is the only time we get this perspective from her, and shapes how we see her reacting to the rest of the comic. However, it is a little poetic and dressed up, which is strange as she herself says to William Blake later on about not wanting to embarrass herself by reciting poetry. But as we move on from the initial scene, the pace and literal flow of the comic moves at a steady, walking pace, once we meet up with the William Blake spectre who takes the Mother down to Hell. What I love is that there’s never an instantaneous jump to Hell, never a literal or scientific take on the journey to Hell, but that Blake simply seems to take the Mother through a warped version of her own neighbourhood until they reach the gates of Hell.
The biggest idea that this book uses is the inclusion of great creative figures of history interacting with the Mother in Limbo. Which brings me to sidetrack a little: I find it interesting that Nadler and Thompson chose to leave her unnamed. It gives a sense that not only is she the mother of her own lost family, but she seems to operate as the symbolic mother of all these lost figures of history, an interesting character device. But regardless, it’s interesting that William Blake takes upon the most rational role to guide the Mother through Hell. But it’s even more interesting how the Mother interacts with the other historical figures. Of course, the Greek philosophers and storytellers are arrogant about how their works are being remembered through history. It’s also suitable, and kind of morbidly funny that Poe remarks about his popularity only taking off and people knowing about him post-mortem. What’s most interesting is how aloof and almost enigmatic John Milton, a Christian poet is to the Mother. He works almost as a prophetic figure, telling her about the nature of Hell before literally spiriting himself away.
The biggest question I’m finding needs to be answered is that why is this a tale that needed to be told, considering it’s a question and quest that is often retold throughout history. But what Nadler and Thompson bring to the table is something that tonally feels like a blend of several religions, modern culture, and literary history, working on a symbolic and physical level. William Blake refers to Lucifer and other aspects of Hell in the tradition Christian way, as well as there being poets like John Milton and Shakespeare to insinuate that this must be the case for the Hell of this comic. However, the existence of Charon, a figure of Greek mythology who ferries the dead to the underworld, implies that this is something more. It’s interesting in that we’re never directly told what kind of Hell this is, leaving it up to the reader to piece together each piece of evidence and see this more as a literary afterlife than anything particularly concrete, which is what makes the concept seem fresh once more.
Continued belowKyle Charles has the perfect aesthetic and style for a tale of a journey to Hell. Reminiscent of Ben Templesmith but with a smoother and more concrete pencilling style, Charles works well at making the mundane look interesting and supernatural. Even from the start of the tale, rendering the innerworks of the Mother’s house, all the scattered belongings and unwashed dishes feel somehow gothic, maybe from the inclusion of a Crow as symbolism, but Charles seems to draw everything with a detail that feels romanticised. It also works well in tandem with the idea of this Hell being a blend of every literature concept of the afterlife — there’s no concrete style, but every aspect of the landscape is reminiscent of something greater — ornate Greek architecture and design, or grandiose English Christian architecture.
What works best in terms of setting is how the mundane slowly turns to something more otherworldly, especially from when William Blake first meets with the Mother. It seems at first that when they leave the house, they’re simply walking into the Mother’s neighbourhood, yet quickly it’s revealed that something more abstract is present, when the idyllic scenery starts to reveal airbourne tree roots, floating human bones and architecture that seems to fold into itself. But then Charles thrusts us back into the mundane, placing us back on a suburban street with cars pulling into driveways. This is interesting because there’s little about this scene that is out of place or supernatural, yet since we were previously exposed to otherworldly aspects of the world, it makes us uncomfortable with how normal this scene is, implying that there must be something more underneath it. Then, the road dissolves and drops away, revealing a smoking crevasse, implying cleverly through visuals that underneath every suburban ‘paradise’, there’s sinister motive. Charles literally shows you, the reader, that Hell can be found at the end of your parents’ street.
Dee Cunniffe does a spectacular job on colors here, conveying some of the most surreal and lush otherworldly landscapes in a modern comic book. What makes it so much fun is how grounded the first page is, and how everything spirals from there. Cuniffee still uses a diverse palette, but the colors are muted and straightforward. It’s once the transition occurs and William Blake finds her, that the environments seem to light up with wonder from the inside. As we step out into the suburban road from the Mother’s home, everything is light up with an uncomfortably bright golden glow. There’s sickly greens scattered throughout, and the houses sit a pale and luminous blue against the burning sky. It’s subtle implication through visual storytelling that we’ve begun the descent to this world’s Hell, without having to have William Blake himself directly announce it.
“Her Infernal Descent” #1 is a great way of infusing religion, literature in with a tale of familial sorrow. Nadler and Thompson have a great protagonist in which famous personalities of history interact with uniquely, and creates a thoroughly original and almost dayglow Hellscape. Charles and Cunniffe do a great job at making the mundane seem like it’s hiding a sinister purpose, with fish-out-of-water object placement and eerily glowing color palettes. Plus, the world needs more comic debuts with middle aged women as protagonists.
Final Verdict: 8.5 – A well-told rendition of an age-old tale, “Her Infernal Descent” blends elements of literature, modern culture and religion in with hauntingly beautiful art.
