[Comic Book Review] Crossing Midnight

Crossing Midnight

Written by Mike Carey

Art by Jim Fern

$9.99
Vertigo/DC Comics
The last few years have seen a revival of fairy tales in popular media (Pan’s Labyrinth, Brothers Grimm, Stardust, Fables, and the god awful, Lady in the Water come to mind). But ask a comic book fan where the fairy tale disappeared to and the answer would probably be “No where.” Comics have always played on the notions of fantasy, the macabre and morality play for decades. Just like fairy tales.
But the mechanics of a fairy tale, have been elusive for the most part (Admittedly, I haven’t been looking hard enough). That is, what makes a fairy tale a fairy tale. Some seem to have figured it out (Neil Gaiman), others have seem to understand but are incapable of refurbishing it under modern trappings (M. Knight Shamayalan).
Mike Carey and Jim Fern’s Crossing Midnight seems to have successfully accomplished both.

Crossing Midnight could have easily been conceived as a Manga or Anime. Its interpretation of Japanese mythology/folk lore appears that precise.

It’s a story about a family indebted to “The Kami,” spirits who reside in a world outside of ours. Their purpose seems to be (I say “seems” because the series is not over yet) to rule over the everyday objects the Japanese make and use. Objects such as swords.

The family line has been incapable of manipulating blades, in any incarnation, since Ancient Japan. But modern day, twins, Toshi and Kai Hara seem to be the first since then to channel this ability. When Aratsu, lord of knives, arrives in the bedroom of teenage Toshi, he demands her to fulfill a debt placed before she was born.

This may all seem like very basic material --- but it’s not. The stories intrigue stems from what personal drama within this family line has caused this supernatural collision between The Kami world and ours. And why after all this time has the girl, Toshi, manifested this ability and been selected to fulfill this debt.

It’s to the credit of writer Mike Carey (X-Men, Lucifer, Hellblazer), that this story is inviting to western sensibilities, as well as, people familiar with the trappings of Anime and Manga.

It’s because of Carey’s whoa-inducing, imaginative, writing that the fantasy elements don’t overtake the characterization (a mistake I see a lot of in pieces like this), and the violence, while sparse, happens at the most appropriate moments.
Speaking of characterization, Carey uses a lot of flashbacks to give us insight into the family. Normally this would break the rhythm of the story, but here it is just as intriguing as the fairy tale elements, often blending into them (there is a great bit with the Yakuza that is played up early in the book and, effortlessly, seeps right into the fantasy of the story.)
If you are a fan of Bill Willingham’s Fables or a fan of Manga and Anime, then this book is perfect for you.

A Horror Story...

I saw a rainbow today. It arched over the subway entrance against an evil gray sky.
An unquestionable reminder that there is a god.

That’s when I realized, I was on my way to the Dentist.
An unquestionable reminder that god has a sense of humor.

An hour later, I’m reclined within the discomfort of a plastic green chair. My head propped towards the speckled ceiling, A thinly-haired Asian woman sticking sharp question marked-shaped utensils into my poor, helpless, mouth.
God. If my mouth could speak --- y’know without the aid of my brain --- it would be cursing me for this moment. I could imagine its chapped lips agonizing, asking me, “Why Troy? We’ve given you and your girlfriend SO MUCH happiness. Why do this to us NOW?”
I have no words.

Know this, Dentist are reverse masochist. I’m certain they get off on the discomfort of others.
This woman has, probably, experienced many an orgasm through the contorted faces of her patients. Her, husband, disgusted, probably left her when he realized every attempt to conceive children resulted in her fist, forcibly, lodged into his mouth.
Sick, sick, bitch.

“Wider,” she demands, tugging on the side of my lip with some plastic mirror-thing.
As my throat seems to swell, I do as I’m told. I open my mouth wider. I fight the urge to clutch the arms of the chair. I feel the question mark scratching the inside of my teeth. She narrowly misses the back of my gum with each scrape. I brace myself for the inevitable…
Y’see, I’ve inherited my mom’s abnormally sensitive gums. A characteristic that has made each visit to the dentist a game of Russian Roulette. Each appointment is met with the ominous question of “will my gum bleed out when she, accidently, cuts it while cleaning my teeth?”
I feel the question mark getting closer and closer. My body tenses involuntarily. I can feel her utensil climbing the curve of my inner tooth. The suspense is killing me.
Then it happens. Tooth turns to gum. The sensation in my mouth goes from a medium scratch to soft tissue being cut open.
I want to make some sort of agonizing noise, but I have some straw thing spitting water into my f*cking tounge.
“Wider, Wider…,” she taunts.

You fuckingcockguzzlingcuntasticbaldheadedbitch, I think to myself.

The pain is all too familiar and has never lessened over time. My gums are sensitive to anything with an edge --- dull or otherwise. I’ve had them bleed from potato chips, forks, sporks, straws, even my own GODDAMN teeth.
Of course she knows this. She’s the one who told me. But does that stop her from gouging my pink, interior, mouth flesh with her pointy toys?
NO!!!!
In my head, I promise myself that if she demands me to open wider again --- I’m gonna lose it.
“Close your mouth a little,” she snears.
Dammit! She read my thoughts.
Clever girl.
She slices another piece of gum.
I swear she’s hacking away at me. Like those adventurers take pickaxes to mountains of ice.
I taste blood.
She looks deep into my teary eyes. I can make out her face smiling deviously under her protective facemask.
“Your tongue keeps getting in the way,” she says irritably.
Jesus Christ, lady! My tongue is just doing it’s best to protect me. It’s my mouth’s last line of defense.
She reaches over to her tray of dental tools --- or as she, privately, calls them: sex toys --- emerges with a patch of folded up gauze. She captures the tip of my tongue and holds it steady. With the other hand, the question mark returns. She digs away at he crevices between my two front teeth. My spine tingles. The sound and the pain are too much. I can’t taste the blood because she has my tongue but I see crimson sprinkle her mask and goggles.
“WIDer,” she groans.
That’s it!
I unclench the arm chair and smack her hand away.
“Graaaaaah,” she growls, still clenching to my tongue like a crab.
“Graaaaaah,” I gurgle, as she still clenches to my tongue like a crab.
I won’t hit a woman, so I force my hand into her screaming mouth. She lets go of my dry tongue and, like a K-9 attacking a criminal, she digs in. Satisfied, her eyes roll in the back of her head. She shivers uncontrollably. Her teeth relinquish my bleeding fist.
“Disgusting.” I say to her crumpled body.
Incapable of looking at her orgasmic expression any longer, I leave her amongst the fallen tooth brushes, running out the dentist office, comforted by nothing I’ve experienced here.
I vow to never use another HMO again.