A treat for the refined sensibilities of comics connoisseurs, the work of Fletcher Hanks has been gaining fans for at least as long as Art Spiegelman has been including it in his slide-show/lecture. Crudely marvelous, these comics somehow manage to exactly embody the early innocence of the Golden Age. These are comics trapped in time, like a fly in amber. Working before the conventions of heroic fantasy comics had solidified, Hanks was free to pursue his own inner visions without having to worry about whether he was doing it "right." It would literally be impossible to have produced these comics even a few years later, as editors (and readers) would have come to expect certain levels of predictability and adherence to the established codes. You can palpably feel Hanks forging ahead with only pencil, pen & ink and paper as he creates his own unique style straight out of his imagination. In some respects, the work contained in this volume resembles some comics currently being made by a new breed of younger creators -- such as Mat Brinkman and Brian Chippendale -- who have either chosen to disregard established comics traditions or never learned them in the first palce, making the work of Hanks feel strangely contemporary at times.