Review by Ian Keogh

D. B. Cooper has become an American myth. His name is the alias applied to a man who hijacked a plane flying from Portland to Seattle in November 1971, claiming he had a bomb. In Seattle he demanded $200,000 in cash and four parachutes as he had the plane refuelled before taking off again. Around thirty minutes into the flight he opened a door and leapt out with the money and the parachutes never to be seen again. No-one knew who he was, and only a few banknotes were ever recovered, and then only a decade later. So who could he be?

Whatever your conjecture or theory, it’s going to come nowhere near the weirdness Brian Churilla has conjured up. Jeff Parker’s introduction advises not trying to figure out where things are headed and just enjoy the wild ride, and he knows what he’s written. There’s no predicting things.

Shoddy CIA experiments are noted in passing, with the MK-Ultra project involving psychotropic drugs the frontrunner. Churilla expands that into a paranoid alternate reality known as the Glut occupied by Dan Cooper, a co-opted CIA agent able to transmit his consciousness to the other world, one infested with gloopy, disgusting feral monsters imposingly designed. Once there he can equate these monsters with Soviet agents in the real world and destroy them remotely. In 1971 this is one hell of a valuable Cold War weapon, but Dan is not a happy man, and has a mission of his own.

The Secret History of D.B. Cooper is one seriously weird story, adopting the mechanics of the action thriller in rolling out Dan’s options. Adding to this unsettling brew is the presence of a one-eared teddy bear. Are they a Soviet agent? Dan thinks so.

Churilla’s art brings Eric Powell to mind, with bulky powerful figures and down and dirty creatures whose demise is fluid and goop-heavy. Yet when needed he can also evoke a loving environment we can all recognise.

As Parker advises, it’s best not to second guess and just enjoy this gripping thriller.