Review by Karl Verhoven

What separates a project Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips see as part of their Criminal series and a period crime drama not released under that title like Where the Body Was? That’s just an idle thought and not greatly relevant to what’s another great character-based crime mystery from a hallmark creative partnership, but they obviously have a line of separation.

Pelican Road as it was in 1984 is introduced by an illustrated map before a sequence of short chapters in which an assortment of residents and their priorities are introduced. Some supply their own narrative considerably after events, while others are seen interacting with those telling the story. We’ve been given a fair tour of the main cast and what they’re up to, not necessarily known to all, by the time a private investigator arrives in the area.

Brubaker knows you’re going to be wondering about the title, and who the body is, and he has you hooked. Here’s the thing: the body is largely irrelevant in what’s primarily a character study of a fair group of folks, must of whom are up to no good on a scale from infidelity to robbery. “Everyone’s sorry when they think they’re about to get arrested”, says the guy impersonating a police officer, “Funny how that works”. “I was such a weird kid” says the little girl who spies on the neighbourhood dressed as a superhero. It’s a long time before there’s a body, though.

As he always does, Phillips draws with incredible precision. There’s an identifiable style in which people are often in shadow, but a very clear thin line. The colouring by Jacob Phillips is also identifiable, sometimes as if patches of letraset colour have been applied, which can be distracting when it shouldn’t be. The cauldron of seething troubled emotions, though, is extremely well defined, and the way Phillips draws both older and younger versions of people impresses, particularly six versions of an ageing character in successive panels.

Eventually there is a body, and then there isn’t, and the complicated relationships between the cast that Brubaker has set up collide in brief violence. One character does become completely lost in the shuffle. They earn an illustration in the cast list, and have a say at the start, but then just disappear, which is a small lapse. There’s a clever ending, though, tying up something you may not be greatly bothered about after everything else, and it’s nicely handled.

Brubaker and Phillips are a great partnership and they hit the net again.