If you’re wondering why I’m so out of my standard rotation on graphic novels, one reason is that the Marvel stuff reads very quickly and another is that the Stick book was borrowed. But you were probably talking about the actual rotation, not all this side stuff, right? Right, you pay attention to that as closely as I do, so of course you were! Well, the answer to that is that the newest Walking Dead volume has been delayed for months. (And the next one will be delayed even further, as Wikipedia Pete informs me there are only two out of the standard six that have even been published as single issues, thusfar.)
But the important part is, the aptly named Made to Suffer finally did publish, and then I got it and read it. Yay! For values of yay that mostly relate ironically to the title, because, damn, that was a brutal book. The two civilizations we’ve seen in the series have been on a collision course for about half of its length, and this book marks the payoff. The zombies have a front row seat to a mini-armageddon in which nobody is safe, not least because said zombies forgot to bring their popcorn, if you know what I mean. (And I think you do.)
Made to Suffer may also mark the first time I’ve seriously considered the forthcoming zombiepocalypse as an extinction-level event. But if people act like this (and if there’s one thing I can say Kirkman seems to have access to in spades, it’s the human psyche), we’re all doomed, no matter how well prepared we may feel. I guess the moral of the story is “Don’t be a dick,” which would be more comforting if people who are dicks were so easily able to recognize that about themselves while also trying to stave off the end of the world.

Back in May, I decided it was time to get back to the Dresden Files. So I grabbed the third book off my shelf, stuffed it in my luggage, and flew off to Michigan with it. At least, I assume that’s what happened, because I remember the intention to do so, but somewhere in the course of that weekend, the book disappeared into a mystical vortex or fell through a hole in reality, or something. You know how you’ll walk around life, and occasionally when you open a door you’re certain that instead of leading to wherever it’s supposed to lead, it will instead be a portal to someplace else entirely? That is what happened to my book, is what I’m saying.
For the most part,
It only took me, what, 8 months to finish
I can’t really explain what went wrong with