When readers last encountered the denizens of the Carlyle Domain, reality had finally encroached upon a legacy of lies, and chaos had not yet burst the finite rectitude of filial piety. Following the events of LAZARUS v7, readers will have witnessed the beginning of the end of the beginning of a would-be empire.
One can never be too sure whether each volume of this comic book serves as an introduction, a culmination, or a pivot. And as of late, Johanna Carlyle's character arc has exhibited valid intuition and growth. Her accession to young Eve's desire to break away from the family's institutionalized suffering, and her acknowledgment of Forever's desire to be free of her slave status, proves Jo may be the book's biggest heroine. The current volume shifts everything into high gear: It's time to end the war with Hock; it's time to resolve internal ethical disputes over the lazarus program; it's time to dig up the truth over how and why the egos of petty men have so glibly destroyed the world.
LAZARUS v7 is highly entertaining, but the volume suffers readers a modicum of disappointment given how much its cast conveniently forgets the seemingly dire nature of the previous volume's events. Must a comic book about globe-spanning territorial rule pick and pry its way through these conflicts, one by one, by necessity? Perhaps. LAZARUS v7 certainly brings the military intrigue: Jo and Forever trust one another to settle old scores and position the family above all. On the one hand, that means taking down the D'Souza and Morray families for their betrayal/duplicity; on the other hand, that means opening up the Iberian Peninsula, Mexico, all of Central America, and parts of the Caribbean to any and all takers.
But this volume focuses largely on the emotional toll of that ridiculous credo — "family above all." Readers hear of but don't see much of Forever and her team of Daggers doing what they do best in the shadows. Instead, readers are soaked to the bone in the guilt-free tears of Forever and Eve's first meeting, readers are introduced to the wayward and luckless compassion roaming Beth's empty heart, and readers are offered a curious, almost romantic requiem for the Carlyle family's lost son: Jonah.
Jonah's story is a clever and remarkable, representative exposition of the beauty and danger inherent in the Carlyle bloodline. When the man washes ashore, in Denmark (Bittner Domain), he's fed, housed, and cared for by a family of well-meaning fishermen. Jonah is understandably repulsed by his old family's politics, but finds comfort in the simple pragmatism of his new family. Could a reprobate and outcast, like Jonah, redeem himself through hard work and empathy? Nothing is for certain. But, raising a beer to the icy winds of Scandinavia and earning a wink from the lovely Pernille, a fisherman's brawny daughter, Jonah knows it's worth a shot.
LAZARUS v7 uses Jonah's story as a kind of allegory: Losing, gaining, and then losing everything (again), in the span of three years, will change a person.
This narrative doctrine holds true for much of the cast.
What happened in the competitive youth of Malcolm Carlyle and Jakob Hock? What goes on in the mind of the soft-spoken Abigail Carlyle, the invisible-until-now, not quite matriarch? How sincere is Jo's effort to crush her dying father's errant ambitions with her own? What of the petulant curiosity churning in the heart of Eve (or "Eight" as she likes to be called), who sits but a week away from having her telemetry package installed, thus making her another indestructible slave of the Carlyle Domain?
And what about Forever? Forever is the protagonist. But the wildly expanding breath of truth that fills her lungs threatens to expunge all other possibilities for all other allies.
All good storytelling. LAZARUS v7 picks and chooses its dynamics, and for the most part, sells them all incredibly well. The creative team's foreshadowing isn't too bad, either. Forever's quest for knowledge and her burgeoning resilience in the face of her family's lies precludes one from believing she'll survive the narrative to its natural conclusion.
Regardless, some narrative choices fare better than others. For example, the decision to narrate two whole issues in Danish with English subtitles resulted in a novel but laborious read (and notably inconsistent with a subsequent chapter featuring prominently Spanish-speaking characters).
Further, the urgent and cataclysmic nature of the current volume's events leave readers completely in the dark about how the other ruling families view the Carlyle Domain's internal strife. The highly accessible lives of the Carlyle family obliges only vague presumptions of the others. House Carlyle is burning. Does anyone care?