Warlord of Mars – Dejah Thoris 1 & 2

WARLORD OF ARSE!

Okay, admittedly I’m a stranger to the twilight world of the heterosexual, but honestly, guys –what is going on with these covers? The variants on the two issues so far have run a gamut from ‘That’s a bit cheesy’ to ‘Sweet Zombie Jesus, Get It Away From Me!’. It’s like these guys have never actually seen a naked lady before in their lives. Or even had indulgent friends who are willing to, y’know, show them pictures.

And these are, in many cases, ‘proper’ artists; Joe Jusko (best of the bunch, but not by much), Art Adams (be ashamed! Be very ashamed!), Sean Chen – people who’ve had actual careers, elsewhere. The apparent lack of experience – of life, art, and the female anatomy – is embarrassingly inexplicable.

That’s insulting to the readership, and to the retailers (and I’m truthfully embarrassed to have these covers on display in my store).  What’s insulting to the creators is that not one of the variant covers so far has been illustrated by the interior artist, Carlos Rafael, which is not only rude, but a damn shame, because his work is rather lovely, both from an aesthetic and a Good Girl Art perspective.

It’s as if the publishers have no confidence in the content of the book to sell on its own merits. More fool they, because its merits are considerable, once you get past the truly horrible selection of covers.

The story deals with an arranged marriage of state between Dejah Thoris, Princess of Lesser Helium, to Dor Valian, Son of the Jeddak of Mars, in an attempt to bring peace to the warring cities of Helium. Needless to say, it’s a double-cross, and once at the feasting table, the nobles of Lesser Helium are betrayed and captured, with, doubtless, the rest of the story arc focussing on Dejah Thoris’ escape and ultimate triumph. In these endeavours she has the marginally competent assistance of her intended husband, who wasn’t let in on the plot, and actually thought he was going to get lucky with Dejah.

No, it’s about as unoriginal as you can get; but it’s beautifully told, and our heroine comes through well as a natural peacemaker, a budding diplomat, and a skilled and fearful warrior, deserving of respect. Yes, she’s wearing pretty much a g-string and pasties, but in the interests of fairness, that’s little less (and sometimes more) than the men around her are wearing; it’s a hot planet, and when state banquet attire comprises jewellry, weapons and a loincloth, one shouldn’t be too swift to focus on sartorial faux pas.

And Carlos Rafael’s art is a treat; he’s obviously looked really hard at a stack of Frank Cho work – who can blame him? – but his style is flowing, graceful and immensely appealling. His figures, while beautiful and idealized, are nevertheless bound by anatomy and physics. His pages are delightful to look at, combining visual allure with admirably clear narrative.

This title has much going for it, but it’s genuinely hampered by the inapropriate, tacky covers. It deserves a greater chance than I fear it’s going to get, so please, I ask you, pick one of the less hideous covers, and give it a try. Despite appearances, it will be worth it.