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By Bob Byrne
What to expect: A wordless epic of redemption, tenacity and rampaging insects.
Order Mr Amperduke
Review by Alex Frith
Many Megazine readers will remember Mr Amperduke as that small press episode from a couple of years ago that was actually better than the other, professional, stories in the Megazine. Certainly it had enough impact that its creator, Bob Byrne, has since gone on to have his own series in 2000 AD (Bob Byrne's Twisted Tales). It was hinted in that original outing that the world of Mr Amperduke had more than 5 pages of story in it, and thankfully the full story is now available for all to enjoy.
The set up of the original story was fantastically bizarre, and I'm tempted to say little more so as not to spoil it. (In fact, if you really want your mind blown, I recommend reading this book with absolutely no prior knowledge). That said, here's the premise:
Mr Amperduke is a retired gent who devotes much of his time to his beloved creation, Amperville. This is a miniature city that he has built in his basement, and populated with tiny creatures dressed in lego outfits. The people in this city live normal and happy lives in the sort of way you might see in old TV shows such as Postman Pat or Camberwick Green, with Mr Amperduke as a kindly benefactor who is loved by the Amperville inhabitants. The original short story explored a certain darkness that afflicts Amperville from within. This long form story, however, is much more concerned with a new darkness that affects Amperville from without. This set up allows for a potentially endless supply of stories of all kinds. What we get is a sort of monster movie, coupled with an exploration of self identity. Big themes dressed in small clothes, of you will.
The story opens with Mr Amperduke being asked to look after his wayward grandson. An evil little bugger who soon enough breaks into the locked basement and discovers Amperville. Partly out of spite for his Grandpa, and partly out of a vicious experimental streak, he decides that a fun thing to do one day is to lob a particularly nasty beetle over the walls of this miniature city. Meanwhile, Grandpa has had an accident and is laid up in hospital with his leg in plaster.
From that point on, the story turns more closely to Amperville itself, and becomes a kind of Godzilla story. How will our plucky legomen defeat the monstrous beetle? Who lives, who dies, and who are the real heroes?
There's a lot of action, but even more there's a lot of personal drama. Characters feel fear, shame, and sadness as they react to their situation, and Byrne wrings the emotions very deftly - especially considering there's no speech for him to rely on. I have to be honest, reading a wordless comic this long is something new for me, and it felt not unlike watching a silent film. That's to say, for all that it was an exciting read, it wasn't as easy or relaxing to read as many comics are - I felt like I was doing more work as a reader. More like reading a work of literature as opposed to, say, skim reading the latest Bendis-written Marvel comic.
The content of the story itself is simplistic at times, but it's thoroughly engaging and satisfying. However, the real triumph is the art. To my mind, it's a masterclass of storytelling. It's kind of scratchy and cartoony in style, which might not be to everyone's taste, but it suits this story very well. The real trick that Byrne puls off is getting under the skin of the characters. There's literary merit in the facial expressions, the pauses between action assaults, and generally a depth that belies the basic story.
More than anything, the art style reminds me of a certain subset of Manga, not least when a robot warrior shows up with all manner of weapons. Which is all to the good as far as I'm concerned! I would say that fans of manga would definitely get a kick out of Mr Amperduke, but it has a more universal comics appeal, too.
The book comes with a smattering of extras: the short story from the Megazine (which is independent of the main narrative), along with Byrne's original Mr Amperduke effort.
Add to that an informative introduction and you've got a neat package. It's pocket-sized rather than Prog-sized, but it's a thick volume.
Despite it's being wordless, it's not a quick read. Breathlessly paced at times, often brimming with Hitchcockian tension, but also ripe with fruit for reflection. It's a story I can imagine turning to time and again and finding fresh delights in, and I recommend it to all and sundry.
To get a copy, order one now from Clamnuts
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