Most comic book fans have a solid idea about what they’re going to buy every week as they descend upon their local comic shop. With that said, there’s still a lot of fun to be had just glancing at the week’s new releases and taking a chance on a book that looks promising, funny, scary, etc. That’s where covers come in. A fantastic image can make the difference between trying something new or saying, “Nah, not this week.”
In that spirit, here are the covers that captured our attention this week, with entries from comics editor Chris Coplan. This is Judging by the Cover.
Absolute Green Arrow #2
Cover by Rafael Albuquerque and Marcelo Maiolo
Go read the whole thing, but our own David Brooke made a really great point in his review of Absolute Green Arrow #1. (And that’s even after he had the absolute gall to tell me that A-ha’s “Take On Me” is the best song ever written.) Poor music taste aside, he commented on the perfect gelling of Pornsak Pichetshote’s inventive approach to his first superhero title and the continually whip-sharp horror work from Rafael Albuquerque. It’s a melding that may be familiar enough, but when done right (as it is across issue #1), it elevates and plays with these familiar approaches and tropes in visceral new ways. And the same proves true for this Albuquerque and Marcelo Maiolo cover to issue #2. Dinah Lance has never looked so intense before, and and I’m not sure I’ve seen a DC character so wonderfully, deliciously mad in ages. All that deep, putrid green water manages to extend and reinforce that rage, creating a sense that the world itself might swallow up Lance. And if the rain doesn’t do it, then the Longbow Killer surely will. (Bonus points for making him part of the large skull; again, something familiar enough given new life via sheer technique and skill.) It’s a moment that sits right at the crossroads of horror and superheroes, an instance where all of it might explode in a glory of blood, brutality, and carnage. So darn good, it’s practically scary.
Spectacular Spider-Man: Brand New Day #2
Cover by Phil Jimenez and Alex Sinclair
Truth be told, Spectacular Spider-Man: Brand New Day #1 flew so far under my radar that I’d forgot it was out until I saw that issue #2 was dropping this week. Not that I don’t think anything to do with Brand New Day isn’t important; I’d argue it was (and this is even if you hated it personally) a massive shot in the arm that got us reconsidering Spidey and what those stories need to do and the value they still offer. It’s just that with so much going on in the other Spidey titles and Marvel in general (see Armageddon), maybe it didn’t have the impact it should’ve for enough of us. Perhaps in recognition of that, issue #2 grabs our eyes with giant, gloved hands by offering up what I can only describe as “Frank Castle busting out the Mega-Phallic Chain Gun.” I mean, even if I turn my head, you can still see and almost feel the heft of a weapon that is clearly working on four to five different levels. And, hey, no shade here; if you want people to run to your book, make sure to bust out the actual big guns. Ya know, cut to the core of a character’s essence (Punisher likes guns) and hope that the vaguely ridiculous nature of such a display (said with the utmost love and admiration of the skill needed to complete this cover) will bring people in. Because if you can pay attention these days through all of the noise, I’m sure this “Brand New Brand New Day” will be the right kind of nostalgic as it also further pokes the barriers of Spider-Man’s world. Seriously, Frank, you should probably wear a lifting belt or something.
Of the Earth #2
Variant cover by Jeffrey Alan Love
I might have only came to Jeffrey Alan Love with last year’s excellent News From The Fallout, but I’ve been obsessed ever since. Love’s work reminds of old-school Disney cartoons — if the world were a nightmare and everyone was at least 10-15% demon. But that sense of imagination and commitment are the same, and rather than make us swoon, Love instead uses his powers to bring us into a world that feels sharp and uncomfortable. Sort of like what he’s done with this variant for Of the Earth #2. In an eco-horror tale involving the Texas oil industry, even a deeply evil-looking oil rig ain’t the most obviously effective choice. But it’s not what’s coming up from ye olde Earth that’s so scary; it’s everything around it. Love shows us just enough to shock us, but never enough so that we have the whole picture (and thus might prepare ourselves somehow). Instead, he opts to display more of that bleak, bleak sky, which to me says, “Hey, anything can happen, and it’ll likely be the stuff that rots your brain forever and ever.” It’s about the angles and a keen understanding of the story and your audience, aligning all of that in a way that this cover does so much and yet never overwhelms or somehow feels forced in its efforts. It’s about giving us enough rope to hang ourselves with our own fears and anxieties, and to whisper just enough that we make up a story with genuine potency. I can dig that level of scarily effective storytelling.
The Trillion Dollar Kid #1
Cover by Francis Manapul
Look, given everything that’s going on in the world right now, I will take my hat off 40 times for even releasing a book called The Trillion Dollar Kid. But rather than just being, like, a Richie Rich rip-off, it seems like our lead, Tommy Townsend III, will actually learn that his money can’t save the world, and that there may be bigger issues at hand. And even if all of that’s just a way to further Ghost Machine and this new “universe” around The Unbelievables, it’s enough relevant messaging for me. Especially when Francis Manapul’s issue #1 cover picks up on some of these ideas/themes. You might see a fun robot Butler, but all that mass and brooding nature speaks to the buffer that exists between this trillionaire tyke and the rest of the world. The same goes for all that stuff he’s stockpiled: It may have value or whatever, but it’s cramped together and eating up valuable time and resources just to maintain (and if that ain’t a great bit of commentary, then you can call me Donald Duck). Even the puddle (right?) on the floor speaks volumes; what should be a slice of paradise has only broken down and promises to destroy all that little Tommy covets. Now, do I welcome the idea that some of this is my own wish fulfillment/half-cocked rambling? Sure. However, I trust this team enough to do something that will be fun and approachable and that also cuts to the core of our current moment of reckless greed and venomous power imbalances. Still, I really, really want to play that Hyde Street pinball.
Excommunicated #2
Variant cover by Tiago Palma
OK, I’m not one to read too much into things (just kidding, yes I am), but this is the second time I’ve been drawn to a Tiago Palma variant cover for Excommunicated. With the piece for issue #1 (in which a nun and a demon seemed to have “fused”), I said that what we ultimately got was “something that feels like it won’t ever use the [book’s] inherently gimmicky premise in a way that’s ever silly. Instead, it’s about finding space not just to be rather serious, but to explore the contrast and connection between these spiritual ideas and themes.” And it’s almost entirely the same even as Palma’s work here proves a little less direct. That “X” in the logo, for instance, seems like it should be on some grindcore concept album about, like, assassin priests or something. Yet that tinge of “playfulness” never distracts from the dark and serious nature of this cover; if anything, it draws us in, adds new texture, and keeps us wide open for the rest of the piece to crawl inside our very hearts and bones. I also really like the smoky tentacles, and the sense that I can’t tell if it’s moving into or away from the building and what each direction might tell us. That not only further speaks to the moral uncertainty of a nun and demon “teaming up,” but also how much our perceptions as an audience really matter (and how differences make the reading experience more fun). If Palma does have a third cover, I assume that one will speak to me with the same intensity, but I may just carry a cross from now on in case of wayward spirits.
Concrete: Stars Over Sand #1
Variant cover by Paul Chadwick
I remember when I discovered Concrete some years back and how easy it felt to live in that world right away. That while it was about a man who’d been basically turned into a stone golem, it was really about what it is to feel disconnected from the world and try to live in it all the same and be a good and decent person. And so for writer-artist Paul Chadwick to come back with new stories (the first in some two decades, mind you) right here and right now, it feels like pure magic. Because I can’t think of a better story world to explore in 2026, when everything feels so isolating and overbearing, and how we have to remind ourselves that it takes work to be truly alive (and sometimes said work just flat out sucks). So, then, what’s all that got to do with Chadwick’s own variant cover to issue #1? Well, nothing really — I just like looking at the way Chadwick brings so much life, drama, and intensity to his creation. But if I did plumb the depths of my brain for a slightly better answer, I’d say I’ve been in this moment. Out in some corner of the world where things appear to be breaking down, fighting for my life (whether I needed to or not) because I thought it could all be gone the next second. And I’m sure, with varying levels of theatricality, you’ve had your own such moment. It’s about recognizing the shape of life and its unevenness and opportunities, and then doing something about it. That’s a lesson that’s stuck with me for years, and I hope this new era of Concrete offers the same mix of warmth and honesty.
Nightwing #139
Cover by Jorge Fornés
Another DC cover, another hero facing their doom at or near the water. There’s a kind of precision and almost rigidity to Fornes’ work — he just understands and executes his vision in a way where the technique and emotionality of it all feel equal in really pulling you in. I think in the hands of any other artist, this same image would maybe feel a little too basic or under-developed, something more akin to an homage than a piece with its own life energy. Everything feels so well thought out and developed here — the ripples of the water are like a math equation in how tight and deliberate they prove to be. The hands feel perhaps the most uneven or unorganized, and yet if you look just a little deeper you can see that trademark sense of efficiency and accuracy that adds but never diminishes the chaos of their movements. Even Dick manages a similar balancing act — he is rendered with a real sense of purpose and power, and that really stands as the wonderfully stark contrast to the profound agony of his current predicament. It’s ultimately a chasm to tumble into, this wonderfully robust divide between the primal suffering and the artistic excellence that demands our curious obsession. Basically, let it all pull you under…
What If…? Thor #1
Variant cover by Sergio Fernandez Dávila
Am I just a wee bit underwhelmed by the actual story hinted at in this variant cover? Sure. Because I think a good What If? story should swing for and subsequently knock it out of the park — like, “What if Black Panther owned The Daily Bugle” or “What if The Believer became the Richards family babysitter?” And even as it’s not the actual art or story, simply going with an all-black Thor “suit” screams less like he’s been overtaken by a Symbiote and more that he got really, really into Dio or something.” (Even as I think the look of the suit is the right amount of subtle while also being cool with its different tones and textures.) But, as the cover itself says, you really ought to be pepping the chaos. That could be Hulk preparing to absolutely obliterate Wrecker; the full extension by Cap on that punch/clothesline; She-Hulk wielding machinery like a baseball bat; and/or the rare extra furious Mr. Fantastic. It’s about what all the best What If? stories also accomplish: It’s less about changes to the characters, but the sheer madness that resonates out into the rest of the Marvel-verse. How the best tweaks can change basically everything, and the most important tales are about seeing the significance of some person or moment filtered in this robust, maddening manner. If the actual story captures 1/10th the chaos, Thor should’ve changed his uniform a long time ago.
If Destruction Be Our Lot #2
Variant cover by Cliff Chiang
In the weeks leading up to If Destruction Be Our Lot, I got really interested in this Jerome Opeña Variant. In a story about a robot Abe Lincoln abandoning his robot brothers to try and resurrect humanity, it spoke absolute volumes. Like how Robo-Abe was both of the bots and not, and what that meant as we too were in the midst of this great reckoning between our inner selves and an ever-evolving world. So, when I saw this Cliff Chiang variant to issue #2, I was shocked to say the least. Not only because it makes me think that this book has taken a sharp turn toward the realm of Star Wars (a bold move indeed), but it feels diametrically opposed to that Opeña variant. This is an Abe that has embraced technology (with gusto, I might add), and even if it’s in the name of humanity or whatnot, it still feels almost like a betrayal. As if this character we connected with had quickly and sharply changed. And the more I thought about it, the less mad I felt. Because if that is the case, then I applaud the book for pivoting so quickly and making the Abe character feel so dynamic so effectively. And if it’s all in my head, well, then that’s just solid proof that this title has already worked its way so deeply into my head and heart in just one issue. I’d prefer the latter over the former, obviously, but even if this pivot is the case, even I can’t deny the insanity this moment implies. (Plus, I just love the oddly DIY/lo-fo feel of the tech itself.) Either way, this Abe is a real one for sure.
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