Maybe that Longfellow dude was on to something.
At some point in his long and accomplished career, ol’ Henry wrote that “great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.” For creators, there’s something to be said about getting a little creative and emotional momentum under your feet to help a story come into its own. It’s about letting the thing understand its innate size, scope, and speed, and how stories are like people in that they certainly need time and practice to get truly good.
Good As Dead isn’t nearly at its end, but issue #2 proves that greatness is an increasingly viable option.
Admittedly, David and Maria Lapham (with colorist Dee Cunniffe) had a pretty good start to their extra dramatic small-town saga. Though familiar enough, the endless battle between the Valdes and the Calhouns was the perfect backdrop for a story about generational trauma, the breakdown of social structures, and the general state of our not-so-star-spangling country. But then that thing happened with some stories where there were so many layers to lay down, and plates to start spinning. And so that work felt a little busy and perhaps even distracted from the gritty, unwaveringly human stories that the Laphams are so great at otherwise weaving.
Perhaps some of those issues were the inherent scope of this book. The major inciting incident for Valdes/Calhouns Round #3,648 was the collapse of the oldest bridge in Port Linden. Yet even with an explosive start like that, Good As Dead quickly got busy spinning out in so many directions at once, and yet the sheer rush of it all felt discombobulating. Busy, layered stories are never inherently bad, but there’s something about a streamlined precise narrative scope that just hits harder.
Courtesy of Skybound/Image Comics.
Luckily, within issue #2, the creators work to more effectively positioning that inciting event as fodder for pitting Sheriff David Calhoun against the rest of the Valde clan. The mid-issue confrontation between clans is everything I love about the Lapham’s stories: Tense, nasty, mean-spirited, and unwaveringly honest, it depicts people at their most honest and savage fighting for crumbs in a post-truth/irony/decency America. You almost forget about the bridge itself, and it feels like a distant memory as we focus less on why we fight and instead the increasing stakes and general ferocity. (Huh, where’ve I seen that before?)
Similarly, #1 featured the death of Dr. Joseph Yao, who set himself on fire just a day or so before the Emissary Bridge went bust. That component of the story didn’t exactly seem like overkill, but it did leave me wondering about just how that would spin out into the story proper and just how much attention we could give to the good doctor amid so many other storylines. And with a little skill and grace, the creators manage to connect Yao with Sheriff Calhoun and lend a little heft and legitimacy to that whole “poisoned cop” and “man on a mission with days left to live” side of Good As Dead.
Sure, all stories need time to grow, but this specific choice feels like it’s growing a massive story while maintaining a proper sense of unshakeable intimacy. And that deeply personal connection is how the Laphams operate best — there are story tendrils weaving through the world, connecting things left and right. (And not just a big, complicated story.) Through that process, we are all united in fear, anger, disgust, etc., and that balances a story no matter its auspicious goals.
Courtesy of Skybound/Image Comics.
And speaking of intimacy and being unsettled, we have to talk about David Calhoun. Because it’s here that his poisoning becomes very real, and in that way some of the more ludicrous tendencies of this book — ludicrous for the close-to-earth confines of Stray Bullets at least — seem to vanish. (Sort of like the bridge stuff; it’s all feeling less like gimmicks and more like a proper story that knows it’s a production and is trying to distill everything down.) Perhaps most effectively across this issue, the visuals for David really make a huge difference. Because as much as I like the design of this world (and it’s oddly anachronistic mix of charm and grit), David Lapham is at his best when he’s making characters suffer.
And David Calhoun suffers here hard — he’s basically on death’s door, slamming pain pills and slapping on fentanyl patches like there’s no tomorrow. (Cause there ain’t.) There’s that deep, existential pain and sharp, cutting humanity found in every moment that he’s on the page, and that very sense “infects” the rest of the issue. It’s here that we once more cut through the shiny layers and neat-o plot devices to see the stark truth of these people: They’re dying, and whether that’s physically and/or emotionally, that gut-punch of honesty peels everything back to reveal the ugly, unavoidable reality of this broken town. And that, my friends, is where no one is greater than the Laphams.
Courtesy of Skybound/Image Comics.
Yet this story isn’t just David Calhoun’s tale, and so many B-/C-players across Good As Dead #1 had me slightly worried about the pacing and focus of this story. But everything also seems to be coalescing to some extent, and there’s some great elements meaningfully supporting the primary Calhoun-Valde storyline. There’s some rumblings with David’s wife in a subplot that may feel painfully timely/relevant. Or, the stuff with David’s mom and son, which may not necessarily go anywhere but is the kind of “background chatter” that adds even more textured life to this book.
Even Deputy Lorraine gets a chance to really step up, and while she felt like a lacking sidekick in issue #1, her investigation manages to 1) brilliantly undercut David’s obsessions and 2) actually give weight and credence to some larger conspiracy. And when it comes to visual nuance and general accomplishments, there’s a an added weight/power emanating from Lorraine that generally makes you perk up.
Courtesy of Skybound/Image Comics.
But of all the “other happenings” in Good As Dead #2, the stuff with Bobby (David’s sister, an unwell ex-solider) feels like the most potent and intriguing. The two siblings hatch a half-cocked plan to get at the Valde family and collect important evidence from J.P. Valde, and the two create this “sickness feedback” loop that’s like the best-worst car crash you can’t avoid. But it’s also oddly beautiful — there’s rain covering their break-in of the Valde compound that’s just utterly gorgeous and emotionally all-consuming — and we see these siblings come together to carry one another’s burdens in a powerful way.
But they also facilitate some of the book’s sustained thematic developments, and Bobby especially has some dialogue that speaks to these huge ideas of our post-COVID suffering, the disposable nature of small towns like these, and even the “mutation” of the nuclear family. But as is the case with so much of this issue, it’s all done in this unflinching and direct manner, positioning these people less as players in a story experiment and more so the driving force of this increasingly human story about being alive in a world where pain and death are somehow getting even stronger. It didn’t take much (or very long), but a little character movement and the right perspective has given Good As Dead so much added presence.
Courtesy of Skybound/Image Comics.
And that’s not even all of it, either. There’s the continued sub-plot with the teenagers trying to get “revenge” on the Calhouns; a secret girlfriend of Dr. Yao who may also be connected to the Calhouns; some possible inner turmoil with the Valde family; and the continually evolving dynamic between Lorraine and David. Things are certainly getting busier as they’re reaching a fever pitch, but I don’t feel nearly as overwhelmed as I did with Good As Dead #1. That’s because the secret to a story like this isn’t cutting back or paring down — it’s finding the time and space to let the story stretch its legs, figure out what it wants to say, and then making that happen with the utmost intent and deliberateness.
I feel oddly hopeful after this issue. (I mean, also scared and depressed.) Good As Dead clearly had the potential to be truly important, and now it’s achieving that with something mighty but manageable, demanding but rewarding. I can’t speak for Mr. Longfellow, but I imagine if he could read this book, he might simply say, “Hell yeah.”
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