The New Deadwardians

Dan Abnett is best known (in comics anyway) for his collaborations with co-writer Andy Lanning which have ranged from DC’s “Legion of Superheroes” and “Resurrection Man” to a whole host of cosmic Marvel projects which I’ve written about and generally enjoyed over the years.  This represents the first series I’ve read from him as a solo writer and, save for a pretty misguided plot twist towards the end, it comes off pretty well.  As the title implies we’re dealing with the living dead in England circa 1910 after a zombie plague ravages the countryside and causes the remaining liveable areas to be walled or fenced off.  A strict segregation of classes emerges with the primary divider between them being those who have taken the “cure” which bestows immortality and immunity to the plague.  What is the “cure” exactly?  Vampirism.

Interestingly enough, the “v” word is never uttered at all in this story.  Granted, it’s immediately obvious what it is from the cover and the way people talk about having “urges” involving the drinking of blood, the pale skin, and the need to file certain teeth down.  For reasons most likely relating to dramatic expediency, Abnett also has his vampires immune to sunlight as well.  What they are not immune to is the deadening of their enjoyment of life that comes from having the time to do anything they want.

However, as these are British vampires they don’t get all emo about their life situation, they soldier on through it with a stiff upper lip as protagonist George Suttle demonstrates.  We’re first introduced to him staring at the ceiling at night as he tries to sleep and remember what it was like to dream.  Immediately following a noise downstairs, he finds out that a zombie has invaded his home and started eating his oldest housekeeper.  Abnett uses this scene to swiftly establish Suttle’s character as a no-nonsense individual as he stakes the zombie to a table and shoots it through the head in short order.  He then explains his situation to the police who arrive as we find out that he’s an inspector in the murder squad, served as an officer in something called the Mourning War, that zombies can’t smell vampires, and that he’s enough of a gentleman to offer the “cure” to the other female housekeeper who was bitten.

The first chapter of this story is actually a small marvel of worldbuilding as it conveys everything I’ve mentioned in the paragraphs above without feeling rushed or weighed down by exposition.  It also sets up the central storyline which involves that rarest of things in this day and age:  the murder of someone who has taken the “cure.”  The body of a naked aristocrat with his hand cut off is found down by a riverbank and the death of someone who was thought to be unable to die could send shockwaves throughout society.  As the only inspector in the murder division, it falls on Suttle to track down the killer.

That his journey takes him through the halls of high society through the gutters of where the normal humans live proves to be thoroughly entertaining for the reader.  Not only does Suttle prove to be a resourceful, intelligent person whose investigative practices are immensely satisfying to see at work, but his investigation provides further illumination of this world as well.  Through him we get to see the horrors of the Morning War when the zombies, or “restless” as they’re called here, rose up to attack the countryside as well as how the rich and powerful plan to manage the current situation.  Suttle’s own growth as old human urges are awakened in him again may feel somewhat predictable yet the struggle he goes through to get to them feels earned and the end results are satisfying.

Had the story not taken a surprise twist towards the end, I’d say that we’d be looking at a contender for “Best of 2013” already.  Unfortunately, “The New Deadwardians” also provides another example of why it’s almost never a good idea to explain where the zombies come from in any story.  That’s usually because any reason beyond “they just did” has proven to be thoroughly unsatisfying and usually involves breaking either the rules of the world or one’s suspension of disbelief.  It’s more of the latter here as the reason in this story involves something that’s barely foreshadowed and set up.  The fact that it’s also the easiest and therefore most unimaginative reason for their existence doesn’t help either.

As for the art, it’s minimalism proves to be most appropriate to the material.  I’d never heard of I.N.J. Culbard prior to this story, but his work has the look of a fine “Masterpiece Theater” production in the way it captures the England of the era.  The majority of his characters also have an appealing “stiff upper lip” quality about them that further enhances the feeling that you’re watching such a production.  In fact, the way Culbard plays everything here dead straight (uh… pun intended I guess) without a hint of satire or deadpan irony feels quite refreshing as well.  After this, I’d certainly like to see what he can do with material from other eras and genres as well.

My enjoyment for “The New Deadwardians” was dampened by that misguided plot twist, but not extinguished entirely.  Abnett’s writing combined with Culbard’s art created an interesting and compelling world that I would certainly like to see revisited at some point.  If they do, here’s hoping that they get it all right next time.