Mark Millar is a pro’s pro (though fortunately not a bro’s bro—at least I don’t think he is—or a schmoe’s schmoe, though he could be a ho’s toe, which would be unfortunate for him, as it would mean he’d have to occasionally enter the mouth of a lusty gentleman with a foot fetish; now that 78% of those reading this have thrown up in their mouths and 22% of you are now uncomfortably aroused, let’s just move on).
He knows how to set up and pace a story. The first issue of Prodigy is a master class in who/what/when/where/why/how. The art is stellar throughout, and, cover to cover, it’s a fast-paced, entertaining read.
So, why three stars?
Well, let me ask you this—when’s the last time you heard something like, “Ah, yes. I remember it will. In fact, I’ll never forget it. Thailand, January of 1989—I had just suffered the worst breakup of my life, which had happened on Christmas Eve, and after dealing with the familial fallout from that very public and messy scene—the details of which are better left unsaid, if only for reasons of propriety—I decided that a journey to Phuket was in order, both to get some space and to try to reconcile my feelings not only about the woman, but about the way it ended. I’d picked up a pack of gum at a bustling stall in the market in Phuket City and had retired to the bungalow I’d rented, content to gaze out over the Andaman Sea and ponder deep ponderings. I reached absently into my pocket and withdrew the pack of gum—watermelon Bubblicious, though I’d paid no attention at the time, so busy was I wallowing in the misery of my broken heart—and popped a piece into my mouth. My jaw worked of its own accord, muscle memory accumulated over the course of decades and thousands of pieces chewed taking over, and my thoughts drifted back to her, the one, my own Irene Adler. Slowly, I began to work the gum into more malleable form as I wondered whether it was truly over, whether there was a chance for reconciliation, and, without thinking, I began to work up a bubble. But, not just any bubble mind you—a bubble that would become the biggest I had ever blown. And when that bubble popped, leaving its sticky residue all over my face and infesting my beard in such a way that it would take weeks before I could run my fingers through it without them getting stuck. With the concussive force of that explosion, my thoughts snapped into place, and I knew the answer. I knew exactly what I had to do—not just to win her back, but to cure cancer, feed starving orphans, and solve climate change. I chewed my gum vigorously and voraciously, never more alive than I was in that moment, and I leaped to my feet, a renewed and recharged man with both the energy and the wherewithal to change the world. And that, my friend, is how I became the savior of humanity and history’s greatest lover, and why I still carry that chewed piece of gum with me everywhere I go today, bronzed and tucked into a special compartment in my wallet, for it was truly the greatest piece of gum I ever chewed and I owe everything to it.”
I’ll answer for you—except for one contrarian jackass who’s going to post something like that in the comments below, you have NEVER heard ANYONE ever talk about their favorite piece of bubblegum because, while enjoyable for the first three minutes of its consumption, you never, EVER think about that particular piece again after you spit it out.
And that’s Prodigy. It’s bubblegum. Sure, I’ll chew another piece, but I don’t think this first volume will cross my mind again until I have the next pack in hand, you know?
That’s why three stars.