The Adventures of Carrie Giver 1

This series highlights things that many of you will have missed, for better or worse…

SO, WHY SHOULD WE CARE?

Released in 2006, this title is by now probably of interest only to Neal Adams completists, as he donated a typically overwrought cover to this charity comic designed to raise consciousness of the plight of caregivers. It was, let’s be honest, on a hiding to nothing from the beginning; ‘awareness/worthy cause’ comics have traditionally seldom earned back the expense of putting them together, and our heroine’s possession of perhaps the most sphincter-puckering heroic ID since ‘Paranax the Fighting Fetus’ would have deterred a lot of comic-store habitués from even opening it. However, it surprised by default; going in with the low expectations produced by the ‘mission’ and title, the book itself proved to be – not outstandingly, but sufficiently – entertaining and informative.

Our heroine, Carrie Miller, is not herself a caregiver (where would she find the time for heroics?) but has a kick-ass if thankless job at the Department of Labor, where she lobbies for caregiver’s rights, but still gets to wear nice suits and the occasional glam gown at evening functions. Having lost her own husband and daughter shortly after the start of her super-career, when she was too busy helping others to save them from a road traffic accident, she now works tirelessly for the caregivers in both her civilian and heroic guises, while fending off the advances of creepy politicos and ambivalently ogling the hunky co-worker who offers to ease her lonely widowhood.

Okay, it’s hardly Sense and Sensibility – hell, it’s barely Hollyoaks – but it’s handled with greater skill than the average ‘public service’ comic. The art is generic but accomplished, with penciller Eduardo Savid and inker Rob Hawkins having clearly read a stack of Neal Adams comics and learned from them, rather more so on some pages than others.

Although Theresa Funiciello and Diane Pagen’s script suffers from clunky transitions and the occasional storytelling gaffe, we do come to care, slightly, for the beleaguered Carrie as she threads her way through RTAs, choking emergencies, crooked senators and the odd aspiring rapist.

Worth mention is the dexterity with which the inevitable ‘infodump’ sequences are presented; these folks have facts, figures and statistics to present, and by cracky they’ll get them across, no matter what! The daunting waves of factoids are appropriately contextualised within the main plot, rather than as intrusions, and conveyed without exhausting the patience of the reader – at least not of this reader. Wisely, the creators don’t opt for a traditional origin story – that’s in back, in text, for those who’re bothered – instead getting us immediately involved with Carrie’s goals, and her world, and trying to make us see why we should care about either.

One observation, which is inevitable in context, is that it’s unfortunate that the creators decided to make Carrie a white Anglo-Saxon. Yes, I can see that this particular comic already has a harder job than most in gaining an audience, without giving many fanboys an additional excuse not to buy it; but given that the majority of caregivers in the US are Afro-Caribbean and Hispanic, it would have been nice if Carrie, with her posh job, power suits, evening frocks and comparatively affluent lifestyle, had been other than the Caucasian persuasion.

As it is, despite everyone’s doubtless good intentions, there’s a condescending air of “Rich white lady doing a charity gig for the poor coloured folks”, which, in a comic that manages to avoid many other pitfalls of the standard ‘awareness’ book, is particularly regrettable.

The story was mostly stand-alone, but ended on a “to be continued…”  that in retrospect was unjustifiably optimistic. I’d have mildly liked to see more of Carrie – despite the god-awful name – but doubted that we would. Despite being superior to most of its type, people weren’t given incentive to look beyond the title and the ‘mission statement’ to the comic’s slender, but genuine, merits – even if the overweight, middle-aged white males behind the counter of most comic shops had carried it in the first place…