If Jeff Lemire were Stephen King, Animal Man would be his Dark Tower: a man on a mission to a mystical location, whose journey is fraught with difficulty and danger all along the way. He even has a kid companion, for crying out loud.

Frankenstein, Agent of S.H.A.D.E is what would happen if you turned Stephen King loose with a case of Red Bull in a toy store loaded with old movie memorabilia and an unlimited budget, and told him to write whatever came into his mind.

This book just defies description, and what I find most endearing is its refusal to explain or justify itself to the reader. Why would someone give mad scientists carte blanche and tell them to do whatever they wanted? Why would anyone want to form a team of special agents with old movie monsters? Why is there a bridge to another world at the bottom of a lake? There’s no attempt to make explanation for this, no effort to rationalize these things, they simply…are. And the reader is expected simply to say, “ok,” and keep reading.

That’s what makes it awesome. Could you find holes in the plot? I’m sure. I haven’t really looked, though, because of all the fun I’m having with each page. Does any part of the story make sense? In the world Lemire is creating with these characters? Yes. In regular, everyday life? Dear Lord, no. But I don’t want to read a comic book about regular, every day life. I LIVE regular, every day life. When I open a comic book, I want to get away from that for just a few minutes. Lemire provides the most fantastic world in which to escape of any I’ve found in a 32-page floppy lately.

Ponticello’s art is an acquired taste. There are moments in this book when his art is so spot-on that I almost cheer; in others, though, it seems so sketchy that I get distracted by the lack of precision in his renderings. For the most part, though, I do think Ponticelli’s style fits the book well.

Honestly, I’m not sure what else to say, except that I’ve had a great time with this book. Another win for Jeff Lemire.