I've never really been into the Sub-Mariner character. Like Thor and the denizens of Jack Kirby's Fourth World, Namor always struck me as too lofty and alien, too far removed from mankind, making it impossible for us regular folks to connect with him. By delving into the character's boyhood rather than his lofty regal period, Jemas and Watson brings a great deal of humanity to the character. This first issue is just an introduction of the character and setting, though, and lacks in any real plot or conflict. There's a promising foundation here, to be sure, but I'm reserving my decision on the book until the actual structure above takes shape.
A young girl goes wandering along a beach along the Pacific Ocean in the 1920s, and she encounters an odd young boy wearing nothing but a necklace of seashells. Similar in age, innocence and curiosity, the two begin to play together. They build sand castles, but each one has a radically different idea of what a castle looks like. As the young girl's worried mother finally tracks her child down, the young wanders off into the ocean, to be found by a mother who was just as worried about him, and just as irked with him that he wandered off.
Compare this comic book to any issue of X-Treme X-Men. Makes for a strong argument against digital inking, at least when it comes to Larroca's artwork. Danny Miki's inks, which usually add a sketchy look to pencilled artwork, brings a clean, soft and crisp quality to Larroca's style here. There's a pristine, untouched innocence that one can see in the young Namor. Larroca's work here reminds me of the styles of Jim (Batman) Lee, George (JLA/Avengers) Perez and Carlos (Avengers Forever) Pacheco. He really brings out the exotic cultural landscape of Atlantis nicely as well, and the soft and deep blues and greens that J.D. Smith brings to the book reinforce that atmosphere.
The opening scene, in which Namor and a young American girl connect for an afternoon, is a pleasant one, and it establishes the notion that this undersea people isn't so different from us regular folks. The scene is far from subtle, though, and it seems completely disconnected from those scenes set in Atlantis. Namor doesn't dwell on the encounter. He seems to have no desire to repeat it. If that's the case, then what was the point? Is he curious about the world above, or eager to become a leader below?
Watson opts to drop the purple prose that usually characterization the dialogue of Atlantean characters in previuos Marvel stories, and though it strains credibility a little, it does make it easier to relate to these characters as people, not alien comic-book figures. Watson's greatest strength as a writer has always been his ability to delve into the complexities and universal qualities of relationships, and I hope we get more of the same in future issues.
