I'd read the two anthologies which make up the lion's share of this collection way back in the early noughties, when I was first getting drunk on the wealth of comics London's libraries held, but back before I was quite au fait with using the Internet to get everything in order. Black, White & Red and Red, White & Black both offered prismatic glimpses of the life of a Fantomas-style master criminal, his mask one of the last comics costumes really fit to bear comparison to Superman's shield or Bruce's bat. The story was told in fragments, which might be comics proper, illustrated prose, even illustrated poetry. The line-up of guest artists was already recognisable as impressive then, and with another two decades of comics under my belt, even more of them are significant figures than I knew – Stan Sakai and Woodrow Phoenix now resonate in the way Oeming, Allred, Fegredo, Jill Thompson or David Mack already did. Granted, the passage of years hasn't always improved the experience: I think I always noticed that the need to get 'Devil' into every title of these dozens of stories left some a little forced, but I'm pretty sure I didn't giggle quite so much at 'Devil's Thrush' last time around, or start wondering whether he needed to look into changing the fabric on his outfit if he was having trouble with that. And while Wagner never made the jump to being a writer I'd follow in general – indeed, I'm fairly ambivalent even about the post-Hunter Rose Grendel material, particularly once it becomes a cyborgs versus vampires future dystopia – I never noticed quite how ripe his writing could be in some of this. Rose's dying musings on power are a particularly fascinating example, sitting right on the line between poetry, and the postings on a forum that's going to get shut down soon because of an incident. Rose is meant to be a brilliant novelist as well as a peerless combatant and a mastermind of crime and incredibly handsome – and yes, maybe there is the teensiest hint of Mary-Sue there – but the problem is that Wagner isn't quite as good a writer as Rose, and keeps having him use words that aren't entirely right, or straining for effect. Although, for all that this collection relies so heavily on guest artists, his own illustrations are brilliant too, especially his backgrounds – there are three in particular here (a cityscape, a staircase wending through the dark, a bridge in the park) which stopped me in my tracks. So despite the occasional wince, there's always at least the visuals to ensure I don't regret my youthful enthusiasm.
What I hadn't realised, though, was that these oblique glimpses of the story pretty much are the story. I'd always assumed the two three-colour anthologies took place in the margins of a core series about Rose's rise and fall, and in a sense that's true – but the original story isn't here, being suppressed for some combination of rights issues and Wagner's unhappiness with early work. Instead, we get Devil By The Deed, which is essentially a summary of events presented as an illustrated version of an in-world history book. Which...I normally enjoy fictional non-fiction, but again, this doesn't really play to Wagner's strengths, even if it does provide a spine of sorts on which to hang the shorts. Finally, at the end of the volume, there's Behold The Devil – a graphic novel-length story, told as comics! But, even this is presented as a missing incident, detailing pages torn from Rose's journal. So that's nearly 600 pages of story around the story. Which, on one level I can't help but admire the chutzpah of writing a multi-generational epic, and telling its opening act in vignettes and summaries. Yet also, I feel like somewhere out across the worlds, there's an actual, sequential Hunter Rose comic I'd love to read.