Ether: The Copper Golems is the most bittersweet adventure fantasy I’ve ever read, and that’s a good thing. Boone Dias is a scientist who’s found his way into an alternate dimension called the Ether, where he fancies himself as a scientific Indiana Jones detective, solving all of their magical mysteries by stripping the magic away and relying on logic. There are, though, three things he can’t solve. One, he can’t eat in the Ether, so he has to jump back to our world every now and then. Two, he can’t stop his family from aging at a far greater speed; time works differently in the Ether and on Earth. Three, he can’t stop others from thinking and acting illogically.

In the world of Hellboy, villains are relentless.  They come after him with vigor and passion, driven by needs beyond those with which mortals toil from day to day. One such antagonist in Hellboy’s pantheon is Koshchei. The tale of Koshchei the Deathless is an epic and sad one. It is brutal and heartbreaking. It is high tragedy and intimate fable rolled into one. While it is all of those things, it is also about the need for redemption and to reclaim one’s humanity.

In a world of superpowers, realistically, not everyone would take up the mantle of a hero or a villain. A lot of them would probably go into sports. That’s the concept explored by SFC Comics, and the titles they release, like Kasai.

In the world of covert ops and espionage, World War II is almost legendary in its stories, both fictional and real, of code breaking, infiltration, assassinations, and intelligence gathering. Spy fiction has used the WW2 backdrop to tell stories both grounded in realism as well as pulpy and farfetched. Most of these stories center on male secret agents that run from suave and seductive to gruff and lantern-jawed; however, past this archetype, there’s a legion of women agents - vamps, femme fatales, and secret agents, too - with their own stories to tell.

Warren Ellis starts his newest series, Cemetery Beach, with a cheeky wink to the reader. Our hero, Michael Blackburn, is in a military interrogation chamber, stripped to his birthday suit, and chained to a table. We think the scene is going to go one way, but Ellis immediately shifts our expectations, and then shifts them again, and again, and again. It isn’t long before Blackburn meets an accomplice in his adventure, Grace Moody, and the wild, sci-fi romp that is Cemetery Beach begins.

The Weatherman is beautiful chaos, a loopy rollercoaster, tempered with characters driven by honest-to-god reasons to go above and beyond what anyone would normally put themselves through – and you can feel it when they do.

It's the end of the “Mothering Invention” arc, and with its end, the finale to this series is brought forward. As we rocket towards what will be the end of the series, we see the fates of many of the gods hang in the balance as the final plan of Minerva comes into play. With her and Woden's machinations lining up the way they'd planned, it is up to the rest of them to put an end to it, if they can. With Persephone's life in shambles and the rest of the gods dead, scattered, or captured, things are looking bleak as we hit the end of the line of this part of the series.

Christopher Cantwell, creator and writer of She Could Fly, doesn’t cheat. There are several times in this third issue in which he could have. He could have taken an easy route to connect storylines, manipulated things as he deemed fit, but he doesn’t. He lets the characters take the wheel and, in doing so, every twist and turn naturally heightens and puts the characters in greater danger. This is phenomenal writing.

Joe Golem is an occult detective living in 1960s Lower Manhattan which is called The Drowning City because it’s submerged in water. They travel around in boats, like film noir characters trapped in Venice. They move from one building to another by bridges, or in the worst-case scenarios by rickety planks, and in the very worst-case scenario they have a bed of water to fall into if there’s nowhere to cross. It’s a truly inspired locale.

If looking back at Tank Girl brings you even the slightest inkling of fond memories, then you would be remiss not to add The Legend of Tank Girl to your collection. This sprawling, beautifully organized book gathers three of Alan Martin and Brett Parson’s newer Tank Girl volumes into one big-daddy bonanza of comic book madness. The book is thick with content. The book is sexy with color. For the cost of two graphic novels, you will get three beefy, war-torn, fire-fueled, no-nonsense adventures, all featuring your favorite Australian apocalyptic hero goddess. Tank Girl lives, and she lives to cuss.

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