In his introduction, Bendis calls Mark Ricketts "one of the most singularly talented people in comics." I'm not sure about all that, but I do know that after reading Nowheresville, I'd certainly like to see some more of these completed graphic novels that Ricketts is hiding away from the world. Nowheresville is a complex and intelligent murder mystery with style to spare and an art style that calls to mind many of the crime comic greats without imitating any of them. I'd be lying if I said that I had no trouble following Ricketts' labyrinthine plots and twists all the way to the end, as the vast array of characters and shifting motivations made for a sometimes dizzying read. However, I'd rather have something that requires a reread than something I can see coming ten pages away, and Chic Mooney fits in nicely amongst the fascinating list of crime comic protagonists that includes notables like Marv, Amy Racecar, Jinx and Goldfish.
I am not what you would call knowledgeable about the beatnik scene. In fact, my knowledge extends about as far as Flinstones and Simpsons references will get you. However, Ricketts really brings the dialogue, the free spirit and the mixture of zen thought, arthouse pretentiousness and sense of community into his script. Though all of the various supporting characters in Chic Mooney's world are very different, whether they're aspiring jazz musicians, burlesque dancers or would-be writers, they all fit nicely into the realm that is being portrayed. As does Chic himself, a man of mixed heritage with the impossible mixture of the cool of James Dean and the zen calmness of the Dali Lama.
However, while this is certainly a novel of a specific place and time, Ricketts is also telling a clearly-identifiable crime story, with all the favorite genre hooks. The tough protagonist and his eager but wet-behind-the-ears sidekick, the femme fatale (two of them, actually), the cop who's out to get the rough and tumble protagonist for past run-ins, the shady crime figure and of course a ruined romance or two. Along with these familiar hooks, we have new twists, including a bit of gender-bending at the end that fits right into Mooney's weird world and some poetry and jazz that gives the whole thing a different flavor than the always enjoyable yet slightly tired noir first-person narrative.
The artwork on the book was as solid as the writing, and I can see why Bendis is so in love with work that is basically brand new to 99% of the comics audience. I see elements of Dave Lapham, Eduardo Risso, Paul Grist, Frank Miller and Brian Bendis himself, all blended together into a style that is unique and new. Ricketts's work has a timelessness that would sit comfortably among the EC comics of the 1950s and 60s, but it also fits stylistically into the popular artwork that populates crime comics today.
Nowheresville does have a failing tied into its great strengths, and that's a level of complexity that is truly dizzying. There are three big murders over the course of the graphic novel, and each one is full of suspects and possible motivations, and all of those suspects and motivations are tied into one another. In theory, this makes for a grand reveal where it all makes sense, but by the end of it, I was so lost as to who was who and how they related to one another that it took a long reread to finally make out what happened and why. I would put Nowheresville on the Memento level as far as complexity and difficulty grasping; which is to say it's well worth it for the payoff, but you need to really pay attention when you're reading it.
