An admirable first issue must, above all else, contain such matter as
will compel a reader to buy the second issue. At the same time, while provoking
curiosity through mysteriousness, a good first issue must avoid being too
mysterious or cryptic. And, thirdly, it should introduce the title’s
principals, preferably in a way that makes us care about them. Fourth, a first
issue should include a complete “episode” — that is, something should happen, a
crisis of some kind, which is resolved by the end of the issue, without, at the
same time, detracting from the cliffhanger aspect of the effort that will
compel us to buy the next issue.
Repleat
with “devils, deserts and deviants,” Steven
T. Seagle’s Soul Kiss No. 1 is
virtually an exemplar of a first issue. We meet Lili on the first pages, and
she speaks to us directly: “There are three things you should know about me,”
she says, then lists them. Her manner — blunt wise-ass tough talk — tells us that
she’s nobody’s fool. Next, she’s on a stretch of deserted highway in Arizona with a stalled
car. An old lecher shows up, offering to help but drooling as he does. Lili
tells him to buzz off, but he doesn’t, and then when she mutters to herself
that she’d give anything not to be there, the Devil himself appears, whispers
something to Lili, and when she answers “Yes,” she next finds herself at home
in bed with the taste of moths in her mouth. She remembers, then, that back in
that desert, thousands of moths descended upon the old lecher and ate him
alive. The moth taste in her mouth, she realizes, is the taste of ... death.
But she thinks little about the implications of that until she kisses her
boyfriend, Damon, and thousands of moths descend upon him and eat him up. She
knows, then, that she’s made a bargain with the Devil. On the last page, she
agonizes about how to get out of the deal. Given her personality — the
tough-talking broad — we suspect she’ll figure out something, and to learn what
it is, we’ll buy the next issue of the book. The cliffhanger is created: we
want to know what will happen next. The first issue’s complete episode begins
at the stalled car in the desert and is resolved with Lili’s discovery of the
implications of her bargain with the Prince of Darkness. Nicely done.
Marco
Cinello renders all these devilish doings in stylish visual shorthand,
sometimes deploying a bold line to limn starkly simple angular forms, sometimes
resorting to a painterly manner, layering monochromatic hues over sketchy
pencil-like drawings to evoke remembered episodes. He supplies backgrounds
sparingly, relying, usually, on figures and faces etched against elaborate
splashes of color instead of detailing furniture or landscapes. Layouts
sometimes follow a patterned grid, and sometimes panels fall across a page
against an expanse of unrelieved white. His drawing style and storytelling
maneuvers give every page a visual intensity of dramatic impact even without
the story; but then, there’s the story, expertly told.
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