Comic Review: Saga #55

Image Comics

Writer: Brian K. Vaughan

Artist: Fiona Staples

Letters & Design: Fonografiks

Warning: This review contains spoilers

Saga is back. A phonebook could be written about the preceding 54 issues, their impact on readers and towering scope. Saga is a curious story, always looking into unexpected corners. It’s ambitious and vivid and heartfelt. Saga is disgusting, and hilarious. But for now, all that matters is, Saga is back.

A plus-sized #55 picks up after a time skip about as long as the book’s hiatus. Hazel is 10 and has developed an enviable grasp on fashion. Fiona Staples welcomes readers with a truly tactile portrait of Hazel in action, fleeing a record store robbery in a daphne blue gambler and matching suit. “This old guy was trying to take pictures of my privates!” she exclaims to onlookers as she goes. This, Brian K. Vaughan tells us, is how an idea survives.

That’s the thesis statement for this issue, as we catch up with various characters just barely hanging on to the lives they’ve carved out for themselves. Alana and newcomer Bombazine are unsuccessfully hocking artificial breast milk (and more). Squire hasn’t spoken a word since the death of his father. And there’s no sign of (presumably alive?) emotional stalwarts Klara and Petrichor. 

Vaughan purposefully and wisely avoids an overly eulogistic return with #55. Marko has been gone for several years at this point. Times have changed, grief has been (partially) processed. And at the same time, his loss is something that will never make sense to those who loved him. There’s no easy bow to wrap up this tragedy. Rather, his death will no doubt be a touchstone in the series, one explored more as time goes on.

That said, we do get some insight into how Marko’s death has impacted the family. Or perhaps, how it hasn’t. Hazel understands and accepts how the death of Prince Robot impacted Squire. But she’s confused by the fact that she feels so comparatively little for her own father. It will be interesting to see how Vaughan explores this subject, particularly after demonstrating the strong, maternal bond that has formed between Alana and Squire.

Of course, Saga has always been as brutal as it is tender, and not everyone is hurting after Marko’s death. The Will reunites with Gwendolyn, casually offering up what will doubtless go down as a lasting image for Saga readers: the horned skull of our beloved, departed pacifist. Unlike Hazel, Gwendolyn is full of emotion when confronted with her ex-fiance’s death. She cries–tears of joy. The two make love while Marko’s skull (and Lying Cat) watch on.

The sequence plays a bit tawdry, but I sense Gwendolyn is spinning a web for The Will, luring him into an incendiary suicide mission on the Robot home world. She also raises an interesting prospect for the back half of Saga when she suggests The Will’s mission could end the war. The conflict between Wreath and Landfall has raged eternal. And at this point the war has become too big to fail. I’ve personally never entertained an epic, war-ending space battle as playing a role in the conclusion of Hazel’s story, but this book’s scope and direction never fails to surprise.

On the other hand, a quintessential Saga sequence plays out in Hazel’s bedroom when she plays her brother the record she stole. Vaughan does a great job describing the transformative influence of music, especially for young listeners, as Hazel and Squire spin ecstatically while the music streams pink energy all around them. “By the time the final chords faded into nothingness, you were already changed forever,” Vaughan explains. He adds, “That song, of course, was “Assassins of Sadness” by Fartbox.”

Alana reveals to the children that she’s something of a smuggler as a mammoth skull and crossbones pirate ship approaches, closing #55 in typical Saga fashion. Saga is back and I’m happy to wait for what comes next.