I’ve been on a graphic novel and comic book kick for a while. I’ve also been on a Cormac McCarthy kick. But since I’m not in the mood to plunge deep into the darkness of human depravity right now, I’ve decided to get back in the blogging habit with a series of reviews of the graphic novels and comics I’ve read recently.
I have to start with Corto Maltese: The Ballad of the Salt Sea.
What a fantastic book. The cover art sucked me in with its promise of a South Seas, damsel-in-distress, vagabond, pirate/anti-hero kind of tale. Add in cannibalistic but mostly helpful Polynesians, and that’s exactly what it delivered.
Corto is the invention of Hugo Pratt, an Italian writer and illustrator who wrote the books between 1970 and 1984 while living in France. I’ve so far been able to find Salt Sea and Corto Maltese: The Early Years, in English.
Corto, a sea captain, is the son of a British sailor from Cornwall and a gypsy Andalusian witch and prostitute known as “La Nina de Gibraltar.” Maybe because of his dubious pedigree and the fact he seems to earn his living carrying out sketchy deeds on leaky ships in the South Seas, he is loyal to no flag and seems to base his allegiances on individuals, trusting everyone until they give him a reason not to.
Perhaps his only loyalty is to underdogs – even Corto’s enemies, when they are down, seem to elicit his sympathy and often his help, which he usually comes to regret.
His escapades take place in the early 1900s. In Salt Sea, the story begins when a villainous rival of Corto’s named Rasputin picks up two shipwrecked Dutch cousins, whom he believes might be worth a large ransom.
Soon they encounter Corto, tied to a piece of driftwood and floating in the open ocean, and the adventure begins as he comes on board and tries to decide whose side he is on – another South Seas disrepute, much like himself, or the wealthy castaways, one of whom is a beautiful girl.
Complicating the story is the addition of the Monk, a powerful pirate who controls the region, playing nearby navy ships from the Netherlands, Germany, Japan and America off each other whenever it suits his purposes.
Pratt has a way of capturing the alien experience the two cousins have, and putting the reader in their place, far from home, surrounded by gruff captains and seamen, violent pirates, ruthless or clueless military officers and local natives.
And it’s the natives that he uses most effectively to convey a sense of unease – their tattooed faces and strange, stilted way of talking revealing little about where their loyalties lie.
The artwork is also compelling. Remember, these were drawn between 30 and 40 years ago, so there’s none of the intricate detail and sophisticated artwork and printing techniques we see in today’s comics.
Instead, there’s a simplicity to it that forces the reader to fill in some of the gaps on his own. Pratt’s attention to facial expressions is especially well done. There’s a perfect mix of excitement and fear as Pandora, the girl, says, “I’m curious to see this famous ‘Monk’” – referring to the murderous and mysterious pirate she is about to meet.
It’s a compelling adventure story, especially for anyone who has been to that part of the world, or who grew up fascinated by Herman Melville or Jack London’s South Sea tales of adventure, like I did.
I couldn’t put it down but also forced myself to read it slowly in order to stretch it out – it was that good. I recommend this book.
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