Wednesday 12 August 2020

The Ballad Of Halo Jones.

I could not resist these three volumes of The Ballad Of Halo Jones despite still having the three large format Titan Editions (Still sitting next to a couple of Titan's Charley's War. They look fantastic in stark black and white in that format even after all these years.) These new editions are so tastefully reproduced and the smell is of newness while the stories within remain timeless.
             Halo's stories are so engaging  and the world of 50th century Earth is so convincingly realised by its creative team, from the way people talk, to the clothing, architecture and vechile design, it feels as close to a magic spell bringing a new world to life as you can get with pen, ink and paper. Alan moores writing needs no introduction but the sublime Ian Gibson warrents one. His vision of the future, from the squalor of The Hoop to the startling alien quality of the planet Moab, we go on a journey across Gibson's reality, full on proper universe building. The combination of tight script and awesome visuals weaves a spell over the reader that will go some way to confirming the existance and power of Mages. speaking of "weaving", i still get shudders when I think of the heavily webbed cover of 2000AD prog#466, with Halo and her dead friends struggling in a nightmare web with a terrifying Tarantula creeping towards them. The stuff of nightmares, arachnophobic or otherwise.
            You know, generally when I read someone waxing nostagically about a comic strip they have read and remember fondly, it usually comes with the memory of staying with a beloved grand parent, or perhaps enjoyed at a holiday home where they felt safe. its all fish fingers, beans and The Generation Game, you follow me? And I mean that kindly, memory palaces should be good places to visit.  When I read the run of 2000ADs where Halo enlisted, fighting gravity as much as Tarantulan sympathisers, alongside Life Sentence and poor doomed Toy, it was a late weekday night, there were riots in the streets outside my house. I could hear the roar of mobs, rioters who were throwing petrol bombs and rocks and any kind of bottle that might break, all proceeded by the unforgettable sound of bin-lids being bashed against pavements (the real reason plastic wheelie bins were invented!) which were a street warning of army raids and a call to the barricades. A horrible sound like the end of the world. Maybe that is why the covers featuring Halo are so memorable to me. Maybe not, they would in any case remain memorable as they said so much and were so craftily rendered, witty, dark and poignant.
            The Halo Jones saga was never completed. Of the proposed nine volumes only three were finished, some creative ownership differences I have heard. Knowing the integrity of the creative team I am sure they had their reasons. At the end of volume three Halo sailed out into the great unknown in a stolen starship, out there into the vastness of unspoken imagination.
             Those stories will never be told, but the ones we know will last forever.