FIRST ISSUE: THE OCTOBER FACTION

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 so mysterious as to be cryptic or incomprehensible. 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.

The debut issue of Steve Niles’ The October Faction is another I won’t pick up again. And that’s too bad because I like a lot his Criminal Macabre series (much credit to the highly individual but engaging artwork styled by Christopher Mitten).  Although tantalizingly illustrated with a quirky but appealing line and colored by Damien Worm, The October Faction is almost an object lesson in how not to do a first issue. There are too many characters, for one thing—which is all right but not, as Niles does here, if their relationship to each other and to some overarching dilemma is not clearly indicated. We meet bickering Phil and Geoff in the first few pages; they may be brothers, but I can’t tell for sure. But the end of the book, I realize that Geoff has a sister named Vivian; and their father, Frederick, is a college professor, teaching a course in monsters.

In the longest segment (of three) in the book, Fred’s brother Lucas visits him, and the two reminisce about their past “business.” Neither is still active in it, and we don’t know what it is/was. Perhaps it has to do with monsters? Killing them? Hunting them down? And who are the Harlows? Victims of a “double homicide”?

At the end, Vivian visits Geoff, who has captured a ghoul by tracing one of those demon circles on the floor. Then we see Deloris, Fred’s wife (about whom Lucas came to warn him) as she drives up to what appears to be a storage shed and tries to awaken a corpse she finds there in a coffin. That’s the cliffhanger.

But as a device for creating suspense, this issue is merely a page-turner: it has no more imperative than a page waiting to be turned: we turn pages because books have pages that are to be turned. It’s structural. No inherent story content propels an interest in discovering what might be on the next page. Ditto here.

The only thing that might pass for a complete episode is the conversation between Fred and Lucas, but that’s so saturated with mystery and ambiguous allusions that we cannot make much sense of it. Consequently, it is of no use in acquainting us with the personalities of either of the characters.

Apparently — to piece together something from the spooky segments herein — the book is about monsters and monster hunting. This issue introduces us to the principal actors. But there is, as yet, no evidence of a plot. Apart from a sort of general curiosity about what might happen next, there’s no compulsion without a plot: a plot usually implies some sort of threat to the status quo. None appears here.

And we don’t like any of the characters — they’re simply mysteries. All mysteries demand solutions, but mystery alone is not enough to persuade me to read on. I must also have an interest in one of the characters shrouded in or engulfed by the mystery. And we don’t get to know any of this gaggle well enough to be interested in them.

Finally, the coloring by Worm is much too dark. Although his drawings are attractive, we can see almost nothing of them because he has shrouded the tale in shadow so deep it’s dark as a moonless night. What might spark our interest, the pleasure of seeing his art, is thereby spoiled, its purpose frustrated.