Bitch Planet #2 Review

As many of you read a few weeks ago, Bitch Planet #1 was one of the best issues of comics in 2014, a daring manipulation of 1970’s Grindhouse exploitation into a compelling and challenging presentation of science-fiction feminism by Kelly Sue DeConnick, already one of the hottest writers on the stands today with such popular works as Pretty Deadly and Captain Marvel. That issue sold me on the inevitable trade paperback, and I’m sure it’s going to be a terrific collection. But just on a whim, I picked up the second issue at my shop this week, and 14 words convinced me I needed to get this book in single issues, and I begged my editor to let me tell Bam Smack Pow readers why you should be getting into this, too.

The 14 words aren’t in the main book itself, though this is another fantastic issue of science fiction world building as intricate and consistent as the work we’re seeing in Rucka’s Lazarus or loved in Vaughan’s Y: The Last Man. DeConnick continues to craft this scenario of a satellite women’s prison nicknamed “Bitch Planet.” Last issue, we saw the beginnings of an idea that the inmates weren’t there for breaking laws but for refusing to conform to the society’s expectation of feminine behavior. This issue, DeConnick establishes that the society on Earth is at peace because of a patriarchy that organizes some kind of global athletic competition, and in developments calling back to Corman’s Death Race 2000, the women of Bitch Planet may be called on to risk their lives for the entertainment of the masses. The tension is elevated smoothly and with calculated confidence, and the characters maintain complex distinction. Any speech bubble on its own could be easily mapped onto a main character despite at least five major named leads. Playing expertly off DeConnick’s words, Valentine De Landro’s artwork stuns on every page. The rendering of nude women demonstrate a variety of body types and never stoop to titillation, and the technology of the prison still has cathode ray tubes – just like people in the 70’s thought the future would look. Obvious teamwork like this makes the book stand out.

But even more, DeConnick invites more teammates into the back matter, and this is part of what Image usually does not include in their trade paperbacks. If you are willing to buy this single issue, you’ll get a letter in the back from Kelly Sue DeConnick outlining the future of the title (about thirty issues with option to extend, using a guest artist every third issue for an interlude) and letting you know exactly which songs are on Pandora as she reaches the next paragraph (“Joan Jett loves rock ‘n roll.” “Dirrrrrrty deeds! DONE! DIRT! CHEAP!). This writer is engaging the audience in a way that panel audiences will find familiar, an earnest, authentic, and charming invitation to the broader dialogue. The dialogue continues with a two-page essay by feminist writer Tasha Fierce about how feminism is diluted if it only applies to cisgendered heterosexual white women.

But then, the reader closes the book and sees the back cover. It’s a cheeky feminist send up of the old comics ads where kids could send in clippings and get plastic “X-Ray Specs” or fart sprays and the like. On this cover, though, the ads are for tools to ensure that “When they play Marry/F*ck/Kill, you’ll never be Kill again!” or a Missed Connection that actually reveals a sexual assault.

And then, halfway down the page, are 14 words. 14 sad and beautiful words that need to be seen. 14 words that explain exactly why this book is not about a silly romp through Grindhouse tropes.

In case you can’t read it, it says, “Leelah [referring to Leelah Alcorn, the trans teen so bullied by her parents that she committed suicide last month]: We didn’t have to know you to love you. Find peace, our sister.”

14 words. 14 words to break a heart. 14 words to explain how important Tasha Fierce’s essay is. 14 words to drive home how placid acceptance of the social status quo is going to kill people. 14 words to convince me that Bam Smack Pow readers deserve a chance to get in on the ground floor of what may be the most important social commentary comic book since Alan Moore.

Love this book because it’s so perfect. But buy this book because of those 14 words.

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