Joseph Thompson wrote this review for Sleeping Hedgehog.
Pulp fiction and pork rinds have a lot in common. Both leave one feeling a bit greasy after consuming. They are neither the healthiest part of a regular diet nor the terror described by academics and health-nuts. Pulp provides a passing thrill on a rainy day when it’s too early to get drunk. Pork rinds offer a satisfying fat delivery system when every number in the little black book answers with a “No.”
Vertigo Crime’s August 2010 release Fogtown is the pork rind of pulp fiction.
Vertigo Crime descends from comic book royalty. Vertigo publishes many of the best-known mainstream works in the graphic novel world. Series include Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, the multiple award/ winning 100 Bullets, and cult classic Y: The Last Man to drop a few titles. The artists and writers involved with Vertigo Crime during 2009 and ’10 include some of the biggest names in the field like writer Brian Azzarello of 100 Bullets, New York artist James Romberger, and horror writer Peter Straub.
The depth of Vertigo Crime’s talent pool comes across in the strength of the artwork in each title. Fogtown is no exception. Storyboard artist Brad Rader takes a Dick Tracy approach that is both nostalgic and easy to move the eye over, without feeling done and simplistic.
Vertigo Crime’s lineage, however, fails to create a satisfying read this time. As written by Andersen Gabrych, Fogtown has more holes than a Swiss cheese pincushion. It runs the gamut from dope dealing femme fatales and corrupt clergymen to transgender prostitution and interracial homoeroticism. It’s quite a feat for a mere 176 pages. Small pages. It borrows classic twists and clichés from the rich tradition of pulp stories without adding anything new. The ending is triple S: sappy, saccharine, and sentimental. Gabrych can’t take all the blame for this. An additional fifty pages would have solved most of these problems. He could have filled all the holes in that space. With the extra room, Gabrych could have reshaped each cliché into a clever turn. Any number of editors, publishers and well-intended number crunchers could be responsible for the graphic novel’s lack of depth.
Without a doubt, Fogtown is a great way to pass a rainy, hung-over afternoon. Once. However, like pork rinds, this story will loose its flavor kept open for more than one sitting. Rinds should never be mistaken for real food despite the occasional indulgence, and Fogtown needs recognition for what it is: not real pulp, but a dirty, sordid snack when no one is looking.
(Vertigo Crime, 2010)
To which artist Brad Rader replied (at a time when Sleeping Hedgehog had replies enabled):
I prefer to think of “Fogtown” as popcorn with mozarella and butter on it rather than pork rinds. Also, I don’t mind if people look while I eat. But I’m glad you enjoyed it (sort of). Thank you for the well thought out, articulate (if ambivalent) review. If it’s any consolation, I’m ambivalent about it myself, and I drew the damn thing.
