Never one to shy away from pissing off the general comics readership and losing lots of friends, I am once again going to... well, review something.

West is a comic for old men, or at least for those that love to wistfully mourn the era of the western. The sweeping panoramic shots of Sergio Leone, the chiselled jaw of Clint Eastward (pre-Million Dollar Baby, when he was cool), the sparse, haunting musical themes of Ennio Moricone, and the general lack of ANYTHING happening for hours on end, before a blink-and-you'll-miss-it shoot-out climax.

And who better to write a comic for old men than fusty old codger writer Andy Cheverton and the withered and grumbling artist Tim Keable? Apparently they aren't THAT old, but to young pretenders like me; anyone over 35 is just a luke-warm corpse to step over on the way to comics stardom...

It's amazing how these two lovers appear to have monopolised the Western Genre in comics, and what's more amazing is how they haven't used that as an excuse to provide cheap-looking, sloppy comics, and have, in fact produced some enjoyable pieces of Pulp.

In true western tradition Andy's stories are vague and sometimes tough to follow, but give a feeling of greater depth beyond what is seen on screen. Jerusalem West acts as a cypher to bring to the fore the conflicts of the particular issue's characters. My one critscism would be the occasional foray into the realms of fantasy, which i personally feel unnecessary considering the strengths of both Andy's characterisations and Tim's frankly nerdy attention to period detail.

Tim's art has improved substantially since the series began as he settles into a fitting style, peaking at issue three; 'High Moon', while being slightly messier in the latest issue. His work is always atmospheric (though occasionally flat on some of the wider shots). And always complements the story rather than hindering it.

Texas Drama is not quite the best in the series (an honour reserved for High Moon), having a tad too much action for a Leone homage, and so suffers slghtly in the depth of story, but is still far superior to most small-press comics out there. The production values are high, with frequent special edition covers and stylish multipacks, and the first four issues of West make a very entertaining afternoon's read.

West is usually priced between one and two pounds and available online at www.angrycandy.co.uk

In his introduction to Monsters, the fifth themed anthology from Accent UK, editor Dave West notes that the very word seems to have been corrupted by common use to mean very large. It’s an interesting point, but one that needs a little further development – after all, monster doesn’t just mean “Hairy three-eyed creature”, but derives from the Latin root monere which means ‘to warn’. It is not such a big step then to say that monster stories, at their heart are warnings – don’t go into the woods at night, for example, or do not meddle with the mysteries of science. As a genre it is inherently conservative, as it has to define a normalcy in order to show something that deviates from it.

Of course, this means that no-one can ever agree what monsters are.

It shifts. Sometimes Dracula is the beast after your blood, but at other times he’s the unwilling victim of his own compulsion. The Frankenstein creature only wants to throw the pretty flowers into the water, until the little girl dies. Monster switches to martyr as we watch. And what about our human monsters – the Hitlers and Stalins and Idi Amins? Again, it changes depending who is looking.

Monsters contains twelve short stories that seek to examine this idea from a number of different angles, each a little different from the last. In the best tradition of

The outstanding story is 'Lusca' by the writing team of Moore and Reppion and artist David Hitchcock, thanks largely to the wonderfully evocative artwork by the latter, which charges this sea bound tale with a heavy, doom-laden atmosphere that far surpasses anything suggested in the script. However, this particular story feels somehow truncated, as though it were merely the opening chapter in a much longer work.

The other great highlight is editor Dave West’s giant robot tale 'Programming', for which he provides both script and art. The story tackles what it is that makes a monster head on. In this story the answer to this old question is very definitely us – we make the monster literally, out of cogs and wire and steel.

West’s name also pops up in two other contributions in the anthology as well. To be fair though, he does apologise for his ubiquity in the volumes introduction. West co-scripts with artist Andy Bloor on the werewolf story 'Maybe Tonight', which benefits from Bloor’s deep inky artwork, but again feels somehow incomplete, as though it were the beginning of something. If so, I look forward to seeing more of Bloor’s art, which combines Jacen Burrows and Charles Burns in an attractive way. I could easily see him working at Avatar, for example.

These are the stand-out stories in the anthology. The other tales work to a greater or lesser degree, although some tread ground that has often been covered before, and the two short comedic pieces both seem overlong.

The comic is as beautifully presented as the previous editions, and though I miss the iconic covers of those earlier editions, Shane Oakley’s contribution to the front of the comic is a wonderfully horrible example of monstrosity. Even better is Garen Ewing’s back cover, which manages to play on the tensions of the monster story in one unsettling image. The other good thing about the back cover is the price of £3.00, which seems incredibly cheap for the quality of the publication, especially when compared to the inflated prices of some other small press offerings.

Monsters is a perfectly good anthology, well presented and more than value for money. It’s exactly the type of thing that should be encouraged – a solid set of stories with a strong theme. I hope to see more like it.

£3.00 for 52 square bound pages. You can get copies of this and other titles at the Accent UK website.

This is mental. Here, creator Jon Williams openly suffers from post-traumatic stress as a consequence of the reception to Sidewalk #1, and is startled into a panic of compulsive self-indulgence which manifests in this book-length whim, a devotion to a post-mortem of that debut issue. There is a half-hearted struggle to develop characters and situations introduced in #1, but ultimately, Williams' hellish reality anchored to our own proves a high concept in dire need of a plot. Consequently, soul-selling demon reality-journalist 'D' and Jerome, his sidekick critic-construct, are utilised merely as mouthpieces for their creator's comic-related angst.

That this post-premiere issue wreckage proves curiously mesmerising is not to condone its lack of writing craft. (See the review of Sidewalk #1.) But Williams' scratchy, fluid cartooning speaks of innate talent, and one can't help but be disarmed by the ambition of a creator with a vision currently above their ability, whose enthusiasm fails to will into existence a semblance of writing know-how or guile. It's ragged stuff, perilously close to eccentric folly, but with an endearing mixed-air of fatalism and resilience, this issue leaves me intrigued and alert to signs of Jon Williams defiantly crawling from the wreckage.

US size, b/w interior, 24 glossy pages. Email for ordering details. Site: www.createtodestroy.com

Jay Eales and Selina Lock posted out my copy of 'Hellspoon', a product of the Midwinter Comics Retreat. Its a fantastic read, surreal and surrealer at every turn, rich in symbolism and metaphor and points of botanical and psychological interest. Its a tighter story and much less internal in structure than last years. This makes for a much more welcoming read for non-MCR going readers I estimate, without any of the epic struggle I perceived, in its coming together.

Its got many of the best jokes and conversations from the MCR, woven into a skilful big budget must-see mythology with giant servings of chaos magic. There are more concepts zooming around than there were flying cars in a flying car futuretropolis. (For sample, the first three pages feature illuminated wicker badger and brie warship religious prophecy, NaNoWriMo numerologist cults, voodoo gods and evil faeries. Page four ? Ho Ho Ho, you lucky people !)

Hellspoon is a thirty two page book constructed by Jay Eales, Selina Lock, Debra Boyask, Jeremy Dennis, Motodraconis, Jason Elvis, Daniel Hartwell, Jenni Scott, Dierdre Ruane and Andy Luke, also with Terry Wiley and Damian Cugley. Its wrapped behind a well pop colour photo cover, at A5 size.

At two pounds its such a bargain as to be practically a security risk. If you enjoy the work of any of these creators, this will appoint, and if you don't, this will not disappoint. Hellspoon is available anywhere you see the Factor Fiction Press sign, and over the internet from the UK (here) and the US (here)

Well, this is nice.

One of the great advantages of the comic medium is the fact that narrative is not essential. No other medium is better able to capture a moment and present it as complete unto itself. I’m talking about things like Harvey Pekar’s work here, or Jerry Moriarty’s sublime Jack Survives. In these works we see strips that couldn’t be said to contain a story, but still manage to capture the essence of something – to capture an idea, a feeling.

Catherine Leamy’s 2005 third issue of her title Geraniums and Bacon is a great example of this kind of comic. Of the nine shorts strips contained within its covers only one has any real semblance of a traditional narrative, but in some ways her strips are all the better for this. Her subjects ranges from night classes to lesbian pornography, with poetry and computer code in between.

At her best Leaming manages to capture the awkward moments where we are surprised by our own imagination, as in the sublime “Thoughts from the Midnight Service” in which the nameless protagonist catches herself comparing church architecture to the structure of the clitoris, much to her own discomfiture. There is a beat as she recognises the absurdity of the thought in her own head that catches the moment beautifully.

This less-is-more philosophy comes undone with the last and longest story in the comic, “Kitty Goes to the Movies”, which stretches a thin premise over 5 pages and then has the audacity to claim that “bad experiences make for really good stories”. Not in this case, I’m afraid.

Still, this is the one weak point in an otherwise strong collection, which features nice clean art throughout, and is unashamed to show its feelings in public. Find out more at www.metrokitty.com. You can buy the comic there for two yankee dollars.

This is subtitled “Autobiographical Musings”, presumably on purpose, but don’t let that put you off - this fine slice of comics cake is much better than the author’s own description would indicate.

What we have here is a record of the first few stumbles of heartbreak, as detailed by someone who doesn’t ever feel as though they will understand what love is. Well, everyone can empathise with that. While the whole tone of autobiography is one that can veer towards self pity (I think we’ve all seen comics like that), here it manages to escape this trap by cheerfully acknowledging this tendency. It’s a neat trick, and undercuts what could otherwise become very annoying. What is left is a winsome, funny little book that provides a few swift laughs and some moments of recognition.

The comics contained within date from 2002 to 2005, and an evolution can easily be traced if one follows the easy to follow dates on the contents page. Certainly Waugh’s art has become more relaxed and comfortable as time has gone on.
His art has grow stronger and is now more iconic than his earlier efforts. It has a crisp, clean quality to it that echoes the work of John Bagnell, or even fellow Scot John Miller.

Oddly, the stand out strip in the issue is the page long preface, in which Waugh welcomes his readers. It has an assurance of pace and dialogue that sets high standards for the rest of the issue, which the admittedly slight pieces sometimes cannot match.

The back cover proclaims that this is Glaikit Comics, which is a great title for anything, and I hope to see it in use again soon. I especially look forward to seeing Waugh attempt something with a bit more length to it. This has comic has set the stage for something with a little more meat on its bones.

Melanchomic is available for £1.50 plus an SAE from the author. You can contact him at andrewjameswaugh@yahoo.co.uk to ask for more information.