Writers: Sam Freeman, Sam Romesburg / Penciller: Rodrigo Vazquez / Letterer: Justin Birch / Design: Miguel A. Zapata / Logo Designer: Tim Daniel / Editor: James B.Emmett / TP / Mad Cave
Review by: Paul Dunne
2nd July 2024 (Released: 28th February 2024)
The Pitch: During World War 1, a young soldier, William Barrow, is assigned to one of the most deadly areas along The Western Front. However, he finds the greatest threat to his life lies not with the enemy, but with the horrific and dangerous cult formed by his own men. Now he must try to survive both the ongoing war and the animalistic nature of his fellow soldiers.
War is hell. We're convinced of that, right? Lord knows I've never been in one and frankly don't want to be. I'm willing to bet not many of you have, either. No judgement. Avoiding violence should be at the top of everyone's to-do list. But I often wonder and marvel at the mindset of the generations before mine, who signed up for war with little or no certainty of ever making it home. Or for what it would do to them long term if they did. In Hound, we're given a horrific answer to those questions as Romesburg, Freeman and Vazquez show us that not only is war hell, but that it makes demons of those who enter its arena.
Private Barrow is our proxy, our eyes and ears for this First World War tale. A Tosher by trade, he now finds himself assigned to a mysterious unit known as 'The Hounds'. They stay gas-masked throughout their journey to the front, adding to the unearthly, alien removal that Barrow feels from them. Nameless, faceless. A Tosher, in case you were wondering, was someone who plied their trade in London's Victorian sewers, picking up discarded valuables and junk. They also stripped the copper from the hulls of ships. His old trades come back into play for a moment when his unit reaches a house on the front, one they're due to hold up in. Barrow haunts it like a poltergeist, picking through once private possessions of the house's previous occupants. But on his first night there, he's shown something. Something in the cellar. Something that pitches the story on its axis, from War is hell to just plain hell. I could tell you what, but I think it would be too much of a spoiler. Suffice it to say, the unit has embraced a less restrained part of their natures.
Freeman and Romesburg have, in Hound, written a kind of existential horror. It never fully states what the men in Barrow's unit have become, but it leans very heavily on pre-established folklore. You're left to make up your own mind. The pacing is fantastic, with the story seemingly taking place over a couple of days. I say 'days', but aside from the coda and preface, there's no sunlight in the book. It takes the bleakness of the mud and the gas and the battlefield and makes it part of the look of the story. Vazquez has a kind of messy, Guy Davis thing going on, making the book feel filthy and bloody. Between them, the writers and artist create a flow to the story that carries you through the house, through the violence and out into the night via long, tense sequences. Birch creates guttural voices for the men in Bardow's unit, and a soft pitch for Barrow himself, via his journal. Barrow internalises his thoughts and the team makes them real for us. Hound is an interesting little curio that delivers a relatively fast-paced and contained piece of existential horror and physical, tactile action.
Hound is available at your local comic shop now. Check out a preview here.
