‘The Butcher’s Boy’ #2 slides the knife in even deeper to thrilling effect

This second issue cements the book’s interests in creativity, thoughtfulness, and general mayhem.

June 18, 2024

With its debut, The Butcher’s Boy felt like a horror movie that opened on a rotting animal corpse. Which is to say, it went for the throat immediately, and it was deeply interested in a massively human story about a group of friends on a road trip gone awry. But I also got the sense that like said establishing shot, there was some gimmickry involved (like the way time is regarded and/or disregarded in structuring the narrative). The question, then, became if The Butcher’s Boy had the fire and chutzpah to build on this tale, or if writer Landry Q. Walker and artist Justin Greenwood had shown their whole hand with the mighty opener.

As it turns out, The Butcher’s Boy ain’t just blood and guts and solid gimmicks but a continually thoughtful and potent take on the slasher story and horror in general.

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In issue #1, The Butcher’s Boy used that “time hopping” device to shock and unsettle, with an emphasis on a massively compelling mix of horror and gore. In issue #2, though, the device is used with more efficiency even as it becomes a more “routine” way to view and engage with this story. We spend nearly as much time in the past (just a few months), seeing how the group’s dynamic was beginning to “evolve.” Then, when we moved back to the “present,” we see the threads of uncertainty, disconnect, arguing, etc. play out in full force.

We see, for instance, how the Chris and Emma “situationship” developed, and how Chris’ broken heart has been stewing for months. (And how does this engagage Hans?) Or, how Chris’ behavior impacts Alan, who seems to be his one true friend (for now). Even the way the rest of the group reacted/behaved beforehand, and what these annual trips offer their friendship (and why this latest jaunt to La Perdita is clearly different).

And, in the most obvious sense, having all these lush interactions is what makes for an even more robust and engaging horror story. But I think the use of time here, and the way all of these relationships extend and develop, does a lot to foster a sense of unease and overall tension that feels like it’s really integral to any truly great horror experience. It’s almost like a more dynamic and complicated spin on jump scares in the way it tries to get us standing perpetually on our tippy-toes. Or, how it tries to draw out and compress (however it sees fit) the gap between the quiet moments of respite and the explosion of action/violence/etc.

Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.

There’s this sense in reading this issue that we could move in space-time and some idea would be mitigated or heightened, and through that process we get something that’s psychological, yeah, but remains as visceral and about bodily responses/reactions. It’s an increased, slightly meta-tinged awareness of horror storytelling, and it plays with that to further tantalize and torture us with a story where the horrors know no bounds and they strike at the heart and mind as much as the stomach.

Admittedly, though, it’s a more cerebral experience overall, and it’s easy to get caught up in trying to see how this story operates and unfolds (which I suspect is part of their creators’ larger plan of attack). But if you want a more direct and visceral kind of horror, The Butcher’s Boy art team (Greenwood joined by colorist Brad Simpson and letterer Pat Brosseau) offer just that — albeit with a slight twist, of course.

By twist, I really just mean that the artists try to respect the deeply human focus of the narrative, the slow build and tension, and also the “time device” by expertly picking their shots. There’s chunks of this second issue where the only real action is some deeply revealing conversation or a terse argument, and while that’s all well and good, it’s very clearly divorced from the intensity and action you’d expect with a horror story.

If anything, denying some of that stuff is a proper strength of the larger identity of The Butcher’s Boy; it’s about drawing our that uncertainty and leaning away from cheap gore and bloody madness. But when it does come, when it’s built up methodically over the course of this issue (lots of talk about weird burgers eaten in issue #1…), it feels so deeply satisfying.

Courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.

Sure, satisfying in the sense that it’s still deliberate and measured — The Butcher’s Boy can’t blow its blood budget so quickly (it’d be unsatisfying but also affect the emotional power at this book’s center). It’s about turning things up just enough to get us to feel that knife slide in a little further without completing severing the artery.

It’s the way Brosseau’s lettering takes on a more sinister, unnerving feel, and how that starts to tickle the darkest part of your brain. The way that red colors (and some really solid, vaguely psychedelic purples and blues) start to pour into the page to show us that the mood has turned on a dime and we’re about to see and feel something we maybe saw coming but are wholly unprepared to handle.

When the violence or momentary scare has fully settled — the issue ends with a particularly heinous feat of proper slasher madness — it feels really pronounced. It’s not entirely disconnected from, say, earlier moments of some shadowy figure lurking, because it’s about consistency in building to these moments. It’s also about sticking the landing in a way to serve as both a release and a declaration of sorts. That declaration could be, “This is what you wanted, right?” or maybe just “How’s this for horror,” and either way you get the sense that this isn’t so much just wondrous gore but another way this book is messing with your senses. It works every dang time.

The Butcher’s Boy maybe isn’t what everyone wants out of horror — even as I also think it’s pretty much a kaleidoscope of all the best ideas, intentions, and energies of the overarching genre. But if you’re unsure about whether to pick it up or not, I’d joyously tell you to regardless of any uncertainties. Because The Butcher’s Boy is that wondrous mix of old-school horror and something different, a story about celebrating humanity’s richness as much as dissecting it. If you embrace it head on, then The Butcher’s Boy will have you feeling like the ending of Ready or Not or something.