If you know anything about Saga, you know there’s a big change at the end of this book, and that the series is now on a longer hiatus than usual. If you know nothing about Saga, you might just have been living in a hole for the last seven years, and nearly anything I could say would be a spoiler for the first fifty-some issues and nine volumes.

But that’s always the issue with writing about a long-running media thing: there are the people who follow it passionately, who know everything you could possibly tell them, and the ones who have ignored it, who won’t get any of the backstory. What I try to do is write down the middle — for the people who know the thing exists but aren’t uberfans, who might be caught up or might not, since life is complicated and this media thing isn’t going to be everyone’s biggest priority.

That brings me to Saga, Vol. 9  today. It’s written by Brian K. Vaughan and illustrated — pencils, inks, colors, the whole deal — by Fiona Staples, as all of the issues to date have been and all of the issues to come are supposed to be. If you want to remind yourself of how we got here, you could check out what I wrote about the previous books: one , two , three, four , five , six , seven , eight .

It’s a soft-SF epic, set in a a universe influenced by Star Wars but full of its own quirks and specifics. Two soldiers from opposite sides of a very long-running war — their people are set up to be opposites in as many ways as Vaughan could manage — met before the series began and fell in love. The first issue depicted the birth of their daughter Hazel; Saga is meant to be her story, and she’s been narrating the comic more and more as she’s gotten older. Now she’s somewhere in the middle of what we’d call her elementary-school years — maybe six, maybe eight. She and her parents, and various helpers, have been on the run her entire life, and have been chased by various others, on and off, the whole time. There are a lot of moments of peace, but the war is always in the background: both sides would very much like to capture and/or kill both parents, and do that or worse to Hazel.

Vaughan and Staples have been clear from the beginning that Saga is Hazel’s story, not that of Marco and Alana, her parents. But she was a baby for the first twenty or thirty issues, so that message wasn’t as clear as they might have thought. And, frankly, even now she’s not old enough to have a story really separate from her parents and keepers — the emphasis on Hazel in the interviews around the most recent issue and hiatus seem to me to be signposts to say “Saga is going to run for a lot of issues — well over a hundred,” given how long it’s taken to get Hazel to this age and how little agency she has had so far.

I don’t mind long stories, as long as they are stories. Saga has a lot of serial comics in its DNA, but I think it still has the bones of a single story. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Saga come back after the hiatus with a time-jump, bumping Hazel up to an age when she really can affect events. Maybe not, though: maybe I’m just trying to hurry along something that will continue to go at its own pace.

Saga is still a very strong, humanistic work of SF, a story of people in danger and how they react to various stresses and demands and threats. Not all of them do what we’d hope they would, just like life. But they’re all real, and they’re what keep Saga worth reading.

Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.

Hey! The time-cops finally get named in this book! They’re called WATCH — we don’t know what that stands for, but baby steps, man, baby steps — and the old guy who runs them is Jahpo Thapa.

And our heroines learn more than his name, which I won’t spoil: they learn who he is and how he matters to them.

So, just maybe, Paper Girls Vol. 5  sees this series moving on from throwing out ideas at random and is now finally starting to knit them together into something coherent that can move towards an ending. I’m not holding my breath, but the signs are getting better.

(See my posts on the earlier volumes: one , two , three , four. )

As always, this story of a complicated (and not actually explained, even now) intergenerational time war focuses on four tween girls who were delivering newspapers early in the morning of November 1, 1988 when one piece of that war erupted into their home town of Cleveland. They’ve been to prehistory and several versions of the future — including the amazing world of Y2K! — but this time they’re in an actually futuristic future some fifty or sixty years up the line.

(Bad news for me: this locks down the stupid leet-speek future talk to that era, which is even more stupid than when I could pretend in my head that it changed over a few centuries. But it’s still Wicked Rad Kewl, which is the real point.)

So Erin, Mac, K.J., and Tiffany — plus the Y2K version of Tiff they picked up in the last volume — are stranded in dystopian future Cleveland, with a population in stylish jumpsuits and headgear and the occasional flying murderous police. But they head to the library, and actually piece together a few bits of the backstory in between fighting library golems, being shot at by the aforementioned flying cops, and interrogating senile old women.

They learn that they’re considered criminals, maybe because of the kid terrorist time-travelers we’ve seen before and maybe just because everybody is completely confused about the real origins of the time anomalies and war. That doesn’t help much, since they’re still a bunch of twelve-year-olds stranded in a city with no way home, among people who talk like particularly stupid members of the gang from Dark Knight Returns.

And, in the end, there’s another big problem for the four of them, and they’re all stranded in time again. I hope it won’t take another five volumes to learn what’s the vague deal of the junior combatants in the time war, but I’m not going to hold my breath. My sense is that Paper Girls, like any good serial comic, is going to spin out its central conceit for as long as the audience is willing to keep paying for it. Since I like time-war stories, I guess I’ll just keep giving it one volume at a time, and keep up with it as long as there’s still something new and interesting in each volume.

But I’d still rather have a real ending rather than endless recomplication.

Reposted from The Antick Musings of G.B.H. Hornswoggler, Gent.