#113: Scott Snyder's Severed

Severed

Scott Snyder and Scott Tuft (story) / Attila Futaki (art)
Initial release: August 2011-February 2012 (serialized) (USA)
2013 (trade paperback) (USA)

Horror comics have come a long way from Tales from the Crypt, haven’t they? Nowadays you can’t swing a cat without hitting some new horror comic. But with so many new titles coming out all the time, it can be hard to really find a niche. Scott Snyder is probably better known for his legendary work on Batman; but he and Scott Tuft have entered the horror comics arena with Severed, a creepy little tale, gorgeously realized by Attila Futaki, about a young boy and his violent coming of age.

It's 1916 and the war hasn’t come to America just yet, but horrors abound regardless. A young violin prodigy named Jack discovers that he’s adopted, and his birth father has been sending him letters asking Jack to come see him. Instilled with a sense of alienation from the woman he thought was his mother, he decides to live out his dream of hopping trains cross-country like the hobos he idolizes in hopes of visiting his father. One of those aforementioned horrors is a kindly old salesman who wears false teeth to conceal the razor-sharp chompers that he actually has — chompers he uses to eat children. Throughout the story he’s alternately amiable and menacing, often simultaneously. A scene in the third issue where he brings out a large bear trap, seemingly to tease Jack and his friend Sam, is high tension like you wouldn’t believe, and is probably the best moment in the story.

While Snyder is a fantastic writer, Jack’s continued credulousness in the face of an increasingly creepy vibe from this seemingly kindly salesman borders on unbelievable, but the real sinner is Sam, who blindly walks into a trap despite making a big deal about how streetwise he is. But in spite of issues like this, this is a solid, creepy tale that’s ultimately about loss of innocence, and how when you’re 12, the world seems vast and full of opportunity, but sinister things lurk beneath the surface. Jack chafes in his small hometown, but he learns it really is safer there.

Futaki’s art is gorgeous, painterly even, and lends an almost period-authentic look to the story. Special mention must be given to his impressionistic approach to lighting, often relying on just a few simple colors to create light and shadow.

At just seven issues this is rather short, even by mini-series standards, and while the authors’ note at the end that there may be more to come, it’s been years and nothing seems to have materialized. But for that seven issues, it’s a good, creepy ride through what it’s like to be a young drifter in turn-of-the-century America, an era where children, especially poor children, were never truly safe. 

-june❤