7 Deranged Comics for Truly Disturbed Minds
Over the decades, artists and writers working in comics and graphic novels have produced some truly out-there works, ranging from the mildly bizarre to the downright deranged. That’s a compliment, by the way. Slight derangement just means you’re unwilling to tell the same stories in the same way over and over again. If the results can be a bit disturbing, so be it. The best stories often are—shock for the sake of shocking gets old, but an unconventional story from way-out-there minds? That’s what it’s all about.
Comics and graphic novels are, very often, collaborations between a small number of people. Particularly when it comes to small and indie publishers, there’s much less pressure to create for a broad audience, and the visual scope is limited only by the imaginations and talents of the artists. The result? Some truly messed-up stuff. So, yeah. We’re big fans of “deranged” around here. Here are a few favorites.
I Hate Fairyland, by Skottie Young
When wee little Gertrude falls through a magical hole in her bedroom floor, she doesn’t pop out onto a goofy fairy cloud, and she isn’t greeted by munchkins or a cheshire cat. She lands, instead, in a bloody heap, complete with broken teeth and protruding bones. Gertrude’s adventures, which are supposed to last for about a day, leave her a caustic middle-aged woman in the untagging body of an eight-year-old and with the strong inclination to give you the finger. She’s an incredibly poor fit for a world of talking animals and fairies, which is very much part of the fun. The whole thing is a candy-colored dream that looks a little bit like a modern, churlish take on Looney Tunes.
Most deranged bit? The violence, though cartoonish, is way over the top. Gertrude is particularly brutal when annoyed one too many times by her narrator.
Preacher, by Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon
At one point, it was just about the least likely comic book to be considered for television. Times have changed, and now the story of a fallen preacher possessed by the offspring of an angel and a demon is on its way to AMC. What a time to be alive. Garth Ennis and artist Steve Dillon fearlessly slaughter sacred cows as Jesse Custer takes off across America in search of a God who abandoned heaven, who seems to be afraid of the new being that inhabits Jesse. Taking the ideas of Holy Blood, Holy Grail and The DaVinci Code to their logical extremes, we also find out what happens when you protect the bloodline of a certain biblical savior from outside influence for 2,000 years.
Most deranged bit? The humiliations visited upon Custer’s arch-nemesis become more and more repulsive as the story continues.
Happy, by Grant Morrison and Darick Robertson
Darick Robertson, of The Boys (which, don’t worry, we’ll get to), teams with comics’ master of weird for this single volume story about Happy the Horse, a flying blue pony and the cheerful imaginary friend of Hailey. Sounds fun, right? Except that Hailey has been kidnapped by a Silence-of-the-Lambs-esque child-killer who dresses like Santa. Happy teams up with Nick Sax, a sloppy, corrupt cop who’s maybe the worst choice to rescue the little girl. The whole thing is grimy and bloody, wallowing in the conventions of grim-and-gritty comic book storytelling to the point of parody. It makes for an incredibly messed up buddy-cop story, but still manages a bit of holiday cheer by the time it’s over and done with.
Most deranged bit? Anything involving the serial-killing, drug-addled Santa. Ho-ho-horrorshow.
The Boys, by Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson
The only writer to make the list twice, Garth Ennis is the rare creator who manages to shock and outrage while simultaneously telling a really solid story. The Boys is the story of the titular black-ops team, charged with monitoring superheroes. Wee Hughie is recruited to fill a vacancy on the team, a job the Scottish schlub is particularly game to take on, considering his girlfriend was carelessly killed by a member of the worlds’ leading super-team. The idea of superheroes lacking in the nobility department isn’t new, but Ennis and co-creator Darick Robertson take it gleefully over the top, while also selling the idea of a very believable world in which superheroes live without limits and require an utterly ruthless team of enforcers to keep them in line.
Most deranged bit? Every chapter includes something shocking, but the “Herogasm”arc, involving a drug-fueled superhero sex party, is particularly, er, climactic.
Black Hole, by Charles Burns
The most disturbing things confronting readers of Charles Burns’ 2005 indie masterpiece are the stigma of disease and the horrors of adolescence (having been teenagers, we’re still not sure which is worse). Chris, Rob, Keith, and Eliza all come into contact with a mysterious and unnamed sexually transmitted disease that causes grotesque mutations in them and other teenagers who come into contact with it. It’s not a parable about the dangers of sex so much as it is about the terror that often greets sexual awakening, with a bit of a added subtext about the treatment of people with AIDS, particularly in the early days of our understanding of that disease. Burns channels all of the complex feelings about changing bodies and growing up into some very disturbing visual metaphors.
Most deranged bit? The depictions of the progress of what’s nicknamed “the teen plague” are pretty icky, particularly if you’re squeamish about that stuff. I, for one, am very squeamish about that stuff.
Afterlife with Archie, by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and Francesco Francavilla
Fearlessly taking a beloved property and making of it a bloody and disturbing horror book, the gang at Archie Comics gets extra points for sheer brazenness. If it didn’t star such familiar and beloved characters, this would still be a pretty great horror book, with truly stunning art by Francesco Francavilla. Even a passing familiarity with the Riverdale gang, though, makes the stakes that much more real, and the gore that much more disturbing. The book opens with the death of a beloved pet and a zombified Jughead who’s as hungry as ever. Just, you know, not so much for hamburgers.
Most deranged bit? The relationship between the Blossom siblings takes a rather disturbing turn.
Orc Stain, by James Stokoe
James Stokoe’s fantasy story filters elements of The Lord of the Rings through R. Crumb’s artistic sensibilities. The story is about the building war between the Orctzar, a chieftain who has managed to unite the Orcs of the south into a massive army, and One-Eye, the one prophesied to destroy him. The highly detailed art and elaborate fantasy world are the big highlights, but the violence and unique economics of Stokoe’s world are enough to earn the book a spot on this list. The action kicks into gear with a castration, and it’s not just to prove a point: in the lands of Orc Stain, male genitalia are the only currency worth having. “Gronch loppin’” is more than a hobby to the orcs, it’s a way of life. Stoke rather heroically tackles the art and the story. (While we’re talking about Stokoe, we have to give a shoutout to his participation in one of our favorite weird mini-series of all time, Godzilla in Hell, which is about…well, you can probably figure it out.)
Most deranged bit? The elaborate explanation of the process by which a gronch goes from organ to spendable chit might give male readers chills.
What’s your favorite deranged graphic novel?