After being poisoned by a winged woman called a Dragonfly, Alonisso suffers from nightmares foretelling the doom of the realm.
Gorgeously illustrated, Mediterranea continues to fascinate with panel after panel of vivid, vibrant imagery. While the good girl art is undeniably appealing, it would be a crime not to mention the intricate organic backgrounds, which evoke an entire seaside kingdom. Masted ships patrol the waters and dirigibles float in the air with the added propulsion of Leonardo da Vinci styled bat wings. Passerby of all ilk and age roam through the backdrops. In dreams, chalk colored sea roamers scuttle and set to.
The story offers intrigue emanating from surprising sources. Alonisso’s and Eleni’s ancient teacher reveals unusual depth, transforming him from mere archetype to full-fledged support character. One figure that seemed like part of the anachronistic techno scenery appears to be more.
While I don’t find anything particularly upsetting in Mediterranea, parents should know that this issue does contain nudity, in one glimmer, below the waist. However, I must stress that Mediterranea features two engaging, positive female characters. Alonisso and Eleni love each other, and although there’s nothing wrong with pure lust, the writers and artists depict their relationship as one based more on affection and caring. Alonisso and Eleni are more than just lesbians. They exhibit puckish humor, inquisitiveness, ebullience and loyalty. Surely these qualities are more important than the occasional glimpse of a nether region.
Why include eroticism at all in a book that could have been edited to satisfy an all-ages audience? It adds another level of the exotic. The inclusion of a more open society creates a more substantial alien world. The last thing comic books needs is another super-white politically correct dominion.