By Richard Sala (Fantagraphics Books)
ISBN: 978-1-56097-773-5 (PB/Digital edition)
Richard Sala was a lauded and astonishingly gifted exponent and comics creator who deftly blended beloved pop culture artefacts and conventions – particularly cheesy comics and old horror films – with a hypnotically effective ability to tell a graphic tale.
A child who endured sustained paternal abuse, Sala grew up in West Chicago and Scottsdale, Arizona. Retreating into childish bastions of entertainment, he eventually escaped family traumas and as an adult earned a Masters’ Degree in Fine Arts. He became an illustrator after rediscovering a youthful love of the comic books and schlock films that had brightened his youth.
He started his metafictional, self-published Night Drive in 1984, which led to appearances in legendary 1980s anthologies Raw, Blab! and Prime Cuts, subsequently producing animated adaptations for Liquid Television.
He died in 2020 aged 65, but his work remains welcomingly atmospheric, dryly ironic, wittily quirky and mordantly funny; indulgently celebrating childhood terrors, gangsters, bizarre events, monsters and manic mysteries. His most well-known characters are a host of wonder women, like gloriously trenchant storybook investigator Peculia, gun toting mystery maid Violenza, disenchanted ex-cop Natalie Charms, and this particular femme so very fatale – girl sleuth Judy Drood…
The Grave Robber’s Daughter is an irresistible tract of baroque pictorial enchantment, culled from Sala’s anthological series Evil Eye (#14) and sees the self-proclaimed sleuth Judy Drood abruptly stuck in a strange little town after her car suddenly breaks down. After venting some understandable spleen when the phonebooth she uses to call for assistance also dies, the irascible, potty-mouthed teen trudges to the bucolic, way-off-the-beaten-track and downright spooky backwater of Obidiah’s Glen: a sleepy hollow that seems at first glance completely deserted.
Walking on, Drood discovers an abandoned amusement park where a gang of extremely rude youths are insouciantly consuming booze and smoking. After being mocked in a snide manner only teenagers can attain, Judy plunges deeper into the sideshows, only to endure similar brusque treatment from a troupe of sketchy performers.
The carny has certainly seen better days, and the congregating clowns and delinquents make her nervous enough to leave in a dignified hurry. Eventually, back in town she bangs on a random door and learns the houses are all empty. Drood’s on the verge of another epic rage explosion when she hears a sound and finds a small girl sneaking around.
Outrunning the scared scamp, Drood quizzes little Nellie Kelly and hears a tales of supernal terror…
Everything was normal until the circus came to Obidiah’s Glen, but when the clowns paraded through town, the adults all followed and now are gone. Only a few high school kids seemed able to resist the call and they just mocked and laughed…
Drood accompanies Nellie to her own shack on the wrong side of the tracks and hears a tale of personal woe before falling asleep. She wakes up just as a clown attacks and – on brutally killing him – discovers something stomach churningly scary about the jolly invaders. Galvanised and furious, Judy tracks missing Nellie to the funfair and deals with a carnival of horrors in the Hall of Embalmed Abominations and other spooky funhouses. She has a bit more trouble discouraging the horny, potential teen rapists, but benefits from a brief distraction from Nellie…
All too soon the bad kids’ boastful ringleader Timothy reveals how many wrong assumptions Judy has jumped to, disclosing the truth about Nellie and her outlaw dad, the awful pact made with a dead witch and how Tim saw his chance to grab incredible ultimate power by getting rid of all the parents…
Sadly, as Judy knows there’s no reason or sense in the world, only chaos and opportunity, when the arcane armageddon she’s anticipated hits, she’s well on her way out of the frying pan and into the fire…
Delivered in manic and moody monochrome, this pacy chiller plays with a choice selection of contemporary Bêtes noir, mingling tropes and mixing memes with stunning audacity to craft a mash-up for the ages.
The Grave Robber’s Daughter amusingly exposes the seamy, scary underbelly of a darkly possible existences, blending nostalgic escapism with the frenetic frisson of children scaring themselves silly under the bedcovers at night: an ideal treat for the big kid in your life – whether they are just you, utterly imaginary or even relatively real…
© 2006 Richard Sala. All rights reserved.