I called in at the local library yesterday to look through the graphic novels. There was a man in the children’s corner with his young daughter; he gave me a look I didn’t care for. I felt like saying ‘Mister, I’ve been borrowing books from this section for years and nobody has ever had a problem with that. Your little girl wasn’t even a random collection of chromosomes in your left ‘nad when I loaned out my first hardcover Batman.’
That’s what I felt like saying – so I said it. And the little girl bit me because I made her daddy cry. How was I to know she was the product of donated sperm?
This is one of the titles I took home. It could have been a lot weirder if you ask me, but then I’m about four and a half decades outside the target audience.
Here’s a title for the junior spies in the family.
‘Michael, Verity, and Sandoval have seen it all – but there is always something even stranger waiting just around the corner…’
Written with one eye fixed firmly on the 60s, The Mysterious Strangers will amuse the older readers with its numerous cultural references. Verity is a big fan of pop band The Scarabs – but they’ve abandoned their light bopping tunes for something altogether more serious. Sounds familiar! There’s even a clan of evildoers hiding behind an acronym. S.P.E.C.T.R.E, T.H.R.U.S.H – meet O.C.C.U.L.T.
Air stewardesses. Killer beauty queen cultists. A secret organisation, centuries old, dedicated to defending humanity. And a guy in a wheelchair named Absalom Quince. Er, let me rephrase that: And a guy named Absalom Quince in a wheelchair. The Mysterious Strangers is fun. The artwork’s not bad either.