The Sculptor

David Smith, the Art obsessed Sculptor of the title, cuts a deal with Death – he gets the ability to sculpt anything he can imagine with his bare hands –  and 200 days later he’s dead. And after he dies what’s left is what ever legacy he manages to carve himself.

Scott McCloud’s first true graphic novel begins with this premise and over its 500 gripping pages weaves a pacey and well plotted tale that successfully combines quirky indie tropes with the epic landscaping of Kirby’s New York superheroics.

Given that Scott McCloud’s name has been long associated with technical theory – his book Understanding Comics is one of only two books that convincingly breaking down the way comics work – you might have expected a dry flaunting of technique. Instead, and while the technique is just fine, it’s the merging of a cutesy indie and big comicbook fare that’ll win this a big crossover audience. (And no dobut get a film made of it.)

On the indy side, there’s human interest, and New Yorkaphilia. Cute manic girls, tortured boys, a love story, a good supporting cast, jokes – and talk about art and life against a backdrop of brownstones, taxi chocked boulevards, the Hudson, art interventions, galleries and parties.

On the Kirby side there’s people ripping up pavements, walking up walls, the NYPD with bullhorns, etc – it’s not an even balance, listing to the side of quirky indie, but Scott McCloud manages to stay on the wire and, even at it’s most over the top, manages to keep to keep the pages turning and plot twisting.

It’s not a comic pushing at any boundaries, either of expectation or of execution, but it’s a fine read that could easily find a wide audience and is a comic I enjoyed considerably more than I thought I would.