Amazingly, the critically acclaimed but poor selling WildStorm mini-series, The Winter Men, has arrived in its completion via a great trade paperback collection that is on sale now. The original series, running five regular issues plus an over-sized special, took over three years to hit shelves. That's correct, three years, six issues.
Suffice it to say, the potential impact and acclaim for the series, written by Brett Lewis with top notch artistry from John Paul Leon, was shafted a bit. Shipping on such an irregular schedule dwindles readership, even for books put forth by the most high-profile creators. In the end, I think that The Winter Men will be a book that people will be rediscovering in its collected format. At least, I can only hope that's what happens.
As you know, most things coming from WildStorm - at least things that aren't video game tie-ins - tend to be superhero-centric stories for adult readers, like Ex Machina or The Authority. The Winter Men follows those guidelines in some respects, but ultimately the "superhero" part of the tale is only hinted at instead of shown, and what remains is a hard boiled conspiracy caper that should satisfy fans of books like Criminal. The tale follows Russian Kris Kalenov, a former member of the secret Soviet superhuman project The Winter Men, who is now leading a very familiar life doing bitch work for the Moscow government and struggling to maintain a relationship with his wife. As stories are wont to do, Kris' past is thrown back at him when a little girl goes missing and he begins connecting the dots.
There are so many layers to this book, from Russian history to commentary on American pop culture, that it's easy to ignore the interesting plot that Lewis has constructed. Even without his lacing of intellectual prowess, the plot of Russian gang warfare and a kidnapped mystery girl has enough fuel to burn on its own. However, the thing that solidifies The Winter Men as a truly great book is in Lewis' consistency with the themes he establishes. Most prominently, our lead character's nickname is "The Poet", and he lives up to that title via Lewis' handy work. There were numerous occasions where I found myself just mulling over select lines of narration or dialog, reveling in their brilliant construction or powerful simplicity. Throughout all six issues Kalenov delivers upon his nickname, and every time it made it just that much easier to understand why the hell this book took so long to come out.
John Paul Leon's work is appropriately gritty, using thick and heavy inks to accentuate the seediness of the world, with the spaces in between filled with the always amazing colors of Dave Stewart and Melissa Edwards. Leon keeps his layouts relatively simple; there's no fancy panel work or experiments with the gutters here, but the storytelling flows seamlessly from panel to panel through Leon's keen ability to draw the reader's eye where he wants it to go. As simple as his pages are, Leon doesn't resist from changing up the design: some pages are as simple as two panels, while there are others that get upwards of ten. The art definitely caters to the script, but the writer/artist dynamic is very much in sync.
The Winter Men is, in some ways, a missed opportunity, at least in its infancy. In fact, before I picked up this trade paperback to review it, I scarcely even remembered the original release. But now available in this format (complete with sketches and excerpts from Lewis' original pitch), hopefully it'll grab the attention of new readers and make them remember what scheduling woes may have made them forget, just like it did with me.
