Tomorrow Stories
Written by Alan Moore, Penciled by Kevin Nowlan, Melinda Gebbie, Jim Baikie, and Rick Veitch.

That Alan Moore -- what a prankster. First, he changes the face of superhero comics with Watchmen, then starts another comic renaissance in the late nineties with the formation of his America's Best Comics imprint, and now he's revamping the "anthology comic." Not content to let sleeping dogs lie, the shaggy-haired British scribe just can't seem to stop reinventing himself. Tomorrow Stories is an outstanding example of Moore's invention and innovation, in that it serves both as a revitalization of a story style that hasn't been popular in years as well as a parody of the style itself. Even for a seasoned pro, this would prove no easy task. Moore pulls it off as if it is an afterthought.

Take, for example, Jack B. Quick, the hero of his own self-titled story. A boy-genius inventor who just happens to live on his parents' farm in Queerwater Creek, USA, Jack has knack for scientific mischief that constantly upsets the balance of life in his small town. There's the time when creates a miniature sun in his backyard through a quantum vacuum (supplied, of course, by a jury-rigged quantum vacuum cleaner). When his mom advises caution, he sheepishly replies, "Don't worry, mom, I won't break any laws of physics." Yeah, right -- trouble is, due to its smaller size, the sun's life span is rapidly increased, and before long it's developed a mini-solar system and is fast on its way to atomic collapse and eventual contraction into a black hole. Frantic for a solution, Jack and his parents are saved when Bessie, the family's errant cow, inadvertently plugs the hole with her own body. Of course, there's now a cow rump suspended about twenty feet in the air, but it's a small price to pay for avoiding certain doom.

The Cobweb is an entirely different affair, following the misadventures of lackadaisical heiress Laurel Lakeland, better known as costumed crime-fighter Cobweb, who, assisted by her confidante Clarice, provide a feminist perspective (written by Moore, who is, of course, a man) on the dynamic duo. Together, they hold the night against villains like Dr. Phallocrates Phlange, PHD, a repugnant cretin who uses a "puppetron ray" to turn women into living dolls -- hey, he's a control freak. Soon enough, Laurel is able to turn the tables on the dastardly fiend; she transforms him into a sentient Pez dispenser. It's an unpretentious romp that provides the lighter side to Moore's other female-oriented book, Promethea while just as easily poking big fun at everything from Supergirl to Xena (Laurel and Clarice have one of those suitably "ambiguous" relationships, of course). And there are plenty of jokes hurled at recent comic portrayals of women as nothing more than buxom, spandex-clad objects.

Greyshirt is a different matter altogether. Greatly inspired by Will Eisner's classic comic strip, The Spirit, which also inspired Batman, this tale follows a mysterious agent of the night as he combats the criminal element in all its nefarious forms. Confronting the darker side of humanity, Greyshirt is an archetypal hero, sporting a mask over his face as well as a spiffy Gabardine suit. The stories are often experimental in nature, as evidenced in an installment entitled "How Things Work Out," a story that contains four panels per page on four separate pages -- the panels each look at the same characters at four separate points in time, going from present to past, so you have to read backwards to piece the story together in order. It's like that episode of Seinfeld that began at the end, multiplied by a hundred. This is the only installment of the book that is not humorous -- really, it's more of a nostalgia piece, accessible either to seasoned comic veterans who still ache for Silver Age comics or newcomers who want to see mean storytelling abilities exercised to their fullest.

The First American jumps right back into campiness as it details the doings of a Captain America-type who finds himself dealing more and more with the moral collapse of the country. What's not to like in a storyline which maintains that, once Jerry Springer is unmasked as an alien bent on brainwashing mankind through the airwaves, everyone pretty much has no problem with it? Other plots feature child-bandits emulating Quentin Tarantino flicks, the Moral Majority coming down on comic books and superheroes, and a time-warping menace who wants the world to perpetually exist in the sixties (He is stopped, thank God). At the outset, this seems little more than good-natured fluff -- further reading, however, provides keen insight into the workings of Moore's mind. Nothing is sacred, and no institution is immune to his acerbic humor.

Tomorrow Stories is a rare comic that defies categorization, and that's a good thing. More than a simple anthology series, it serves a springboard for Moore's unquantifiable ideas. He's playing with humor, drama, and story structure here, and it mostly erupts in cool and funny results. Sure, it doesn't always work as well as his full-length books, but it's an exciting venture from a man who is still opening up the medium in fresh and intriguing ways. The artwork, by Kevin Nowlan, Melinda Gebbie, Rick Veitch (longtime Moore collaborator) and Jim Baikie is uniformly excellent, with each style suitably adapted to the subject matter -- often emulating the classic comics they're so enamored with. If you're new to the comic world, Tomorrow Stories will make less sense than it might to someone who's been around for a while, relying as it does so much on comic history, but it will, at the very least, perk up interest in some of the classics of the medium. Either way, it's genius work from a living legend.

-- David Rosiak

Tomorrow Stories, published by DC Comics, is currently available as a monthly title only through comic retailers.

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