Over the years, Brubaker quickly evolved into a distinctive writer, one who knows how to unravel the inner worlds of his characters with remarkable sensitivity. He always gives their emotions the necessary weight without picking sides. His portrayal feels, we could say, objective. “Stripping them bare” might be a better way to describe it, and that is a true narrative strength. He honed it through constant writing, arriving at a point where he now possesses all the right tools, though he's up against new challenges like time, inspiration, clarity of mind, and all those daunting creative forces. Still, so far, he’s been excellent. Of course, that’s just my subjective view.
But back to the third-person captions, which I found noteworthy. They are eloquently written and work in perfect harmony with the artwork, maintaining the story’s rhythm and emotional impact throughout. And yet, the fact that the main character isn’t the narrator feels somewhat odd, not in a bad or mismatched way, but strange nonetheless. After all, noir literature, from which Brubaker clearly draws influence, often embraces both first-person and third-person perspectives. But why did this choice feel unusual to me throughout the book? Once I finished Lawless, it all made sense. It was actually quite simple.
Tracy is, without a doubt, the central figure—he carries the story—but he isn't necessarily its emotional core, at least not to me. I perceived him more as a symbol, an embodiment of certain values or consequences, rather than just a man with a personal past and trauma. What I mean is that, at various moments, the narrative pulls away from Tracy, offering us glimpses of the broader Criminal world. It does so subtly, without overemphasis. In a way, by not giving Tracy the role of narrator, Brubaker signals his interest in something larger: legacy. And legacy is a theme he will return to again and again in his work.
Legacy, in this context, as in the sins of the father being visited upon the son. Tracy’s father treated him a certain way, his brother followed a particular path, and so Tracy ends up on his own journey, where does it all lead? I suppose we’ll find out later. Or maybe we won’t.
There’s not much I need to say about Phillips’ art. It remains consistently powerful, heavy with contrast, rich in noir atmosphere, with shadows and tension filling every panel. It’s as if you can hear the characters’ breath, or smell their sweat.
There is a mystery at the heart of Lawless, and while it’s effectively constructed and resolved, the real focus lies elsewhere. This is a story about family dynamics, about the past, about romantic desire used as a means to manipulate or mislead. And don’t worry, Lawless can be read even if you haven’t gone through Coward, the previous volume. There is a connection between them, and reading both enriches the experience, but it's not a requirement.
Until next time — be well, and keep reading.
It’s important!
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