For some reason I’ve been avoiding Mike Mignola’s B.P.R.D., but now that the first omnibus collection, Plague of Frogs, has crossed my desk, I can’t think why.
“B.P.R.D.” is, for those not familiar, the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, and was the place that Hellboy found a home. He has left the organization, although he appears in flashbacks in the first part of this volume, but the Bureau is also home to several other unusual people: Abe Sapien, an amphibious man; Roger, a homunculus; Liz Sherman, a woman with pyrokinetic powers; and Johann Krauss, who makes his appearance here — he’s physically deceased, but due to the unusual circumstances of his death, his soul wasn’t in his body at the time. Krauss was a medium, and the Bureau has come up with a containment suit to hold his psychic essence.
The story focuses on these four and Kate Corrigan, who is the official liaison to what they call “enhanced agents.” It begins with “Hollow Earth,” which gives the first intimation that there is something down there that does not wish us well. Through various episodes the story begins to come together, as the agents — and the world — are beset by a plague of fairly aggressive frogs under the direction of a presence from the dim past.
One of the remarkable things about this one is the way the major story arc is revealed in segments until we reach the final section, where it becomes a focused and absorbing story. Another is the deft revelation of character and the psychology that drives not only the “specials” but the normal humans they encounter. (Yes, there are one or two places where it’s blatant, but on the whole it’s very well done.) Individual backstories are used very well in this series and actually serve to illuminate the characters as they are now.
The graphic work, beginning with Mike Mignola’s original concept, maintains an overall stylistic consistency, although a moment’s observation reveals that there are a number of artists involved. And it’s arresting: the characters straddle the border between grotesque and appealing and whatever their antecedents, one can see visually the common humanity at play here.
It’s over 400 pages, and I didn’t notice. And although it’s rated for age 16, it held this adult’s interest with no problem.
(Dark Horse, 2011)
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