What’s refreshing about this book is how the story feels not at all self-conscious. Manapul and Buccellato are just doing their thing, telling a cool comic book story. Nothing feels forced. It’s like a comic I would’ve picked up out of the back issue bin as a kid, but it doesn’t seem like it’s cloyingly cultivating that impression. Meanwhile, the art. Oh man, the art. Gorgeous watercolour over delightfully cartoony pencils. That slight Japanese edge to some of the faces. Layouts that are like nothing else in comics right now. Manapul and Buccellato’s Flash is my favourite thing in the whole New 52, and it got to be by just quietly, humbly doing its own thing month in, month out.