Yeah, True Grit bitches. Comic books start in a hole when it comes to respect. Stephen King or James Patterson can vomit ridiculous drivel and call it literature, and millions of people will buy it and feel comfort . . . they are readers. They eschew American Idol and Law and Order, instead spending their nights digesting the literary equivalent. But stories are stories, storytellers are brilliant or ignorant independent of their medium. The Wire or The Sopranos have just as much literary cred as anything written by Phillip Roth or Don Delillo. This week Ain't It Cool News announced that DC will be bringing The Preacher to their Absolute collection. The ultra prestige, hardcover and slipcased Absolute line has been used to showcase The Watchmen, The Dark Knight Returns, and The Sandman. And while all three of those collections are wonderful examples of how impressive comic books can be, The Preacher is the War and Peace of the medium.
Written by Garth Ennis - an Englishman - and illustrated by Steve Dillon, The Preacher is the pinnacle of highbrow comic book lit. The story of a Texas preacher who is infested by the child of the union between an arcangel and a demon, The Preacher runs the gamut between existential musings on the nature of spirituality and John Ford-esque gunfights and Clint Eastwood aphorisms. I have read through the entire 66 issue run of The Preacher numerous times, and every time I find something new, something important. It is hard to explain, but if you have ever had doubts about the existence of an all-knowing creator, have ever questioned the motives of the hordes of Christianity, then this book will grab you by the neck and won't let go. Vampires, international conspiracies, cowboys, chicks, and gunfights - The Preacher has it all, including none other than John fucking Wayne as a costar - plus, it spawned a douchebag mainstream rip-off, The Da Vinci Code. Do yourself a favor and check it out.
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