Review by Ian Keogh

Over Gumaa’s opening pages Jee-hyung Lee establishes just how completely in 1984 the Luciel organisation controls crime in Melanfield City. It’s deliberately disturbing in presenting far ranging and merciless threats, and concentrates on drug addicted women forced into prostitution. Around a third of the book is the distressing circumstances of how one of them escapes and how she changed her life via a cursed dagger. Also relevant is Brenna, the young daughter the kingpin has with one of the prostitutes.

Fifteen years later the Luciel organisation still runs its operations, but Melanfield is additionally threatened by Maagi, humans transformed into feral supernatural killers. Luciel have used the situation to reposition themselves into a form of church. Only they can cure the condition and only they can offer sanctuary.

Lee puts a lot of effort into setting the scene, and the enthusiasm throughout is apparent, but at no point does there seem any consideration of the bigger picture. One scene is swept away by the next, and there’s little impact from one to what follows, while the characters drift in and out, their motivation and moral compass changing when needed. Lee will then resort to massive information dumps, one landing on Brenna who really ought to have been informed of matters much sooner. There is a coherent structure within the constant changes, but the foundation is so wobbly it never emerges.

There can be a delicacy to the art, but there can also be some sloppily composed people and layouts failing to maximise the possibilities. This is compounded by consistently dull colour, although the purple highlights for certain objects are well considered.

Everything being revealed by the final chapter ensures that has greater impact, but the big surprise once again relies on someone totally changing character. The Beginning of Her seems to set up a continuation, but if it manifests let’s hope Lee can turn raw talent into coherency.