Hoping to find something that sticks, Peter Milligan is throwing up a whole mess of spaghetti—problem is the reader’s standing between him and the wall, and, though slightly exhilarating, it’s not particularly fun to get repeatedly pelted by pasta. Greek Street is a typical and easy high concept Vertigo book. What if the Greek myths (and subsequent Greek tragedies) bubbled to the surface in modern day London; what if the universal, symbolic truths expressed in these immortal works of fiction became actual truths taking place out in the real world. That’s a fairly fun pitch, and it’s nice to see Milligan branching out by stealing concepts and tones from Gaiman instead of just Morrison (uhm, I mean, by being inspired by Gaiman instead of just Morrison—sorry ‘bout that). The fault of the issue lies therefore not in the idea, but in the execution. Milligan appears to understand that he’s standing at the entrance to a world of potentially great stories, but he lacks the confidence and the voice to guide the reader through this world; instead he simply shoves us through the door and shouts, “good luck! I’m pretty sure there’s some cool stuff in there!” Thus we are introduced to a dozen or so characters and given a dozen or so back stories and a dozen or so cliffhangers, and not one of them earns your sympathy or even stays with you beyond the 10 minutes it takes to turn the pages. (For an example of a successful and structured introduction to a high concept see Vaughn’s brilliant Y The Last Man #1) After reading the issue, you want to shout at Milligan to just take it easy, slow it down, people will come for the next issue; tell one story, tell it well; take a breath and stop throwing the damn spaghetti—some of it’s sticking but no one can tell with all this damn food in our eyes. (As an aside: in the issue the Oedipus character knowingly sleeps with his mother. This is a reverse of the classic story in which Oedipus UN-knowingly sleeps with his mother. A small detail, however, the great theme of Oedipus is that fate and justice follow him despite his efforts—Oedipus doesn’t do anything wrong on purpose, but he is still punished. By having Oedipus intentionally commit this sin actually reverses the pathos of the story and the impact its had for thousands of years. It’s too early to judge this decision—maybe Milligan thinks he can improve on Sophocles?—but still, it’s an odd choice.)