Azimuth Vol. 1 Review
Azimuth is a challenging book to write about because it’s doing a whole lot of everything. Dense sci-fi worldbuilding, overwhelmingly detailed visuals, a conspiracy-infused action plot, two protagonists, and a new location every handful of scenes. Sight gags, ticking clocks, and social commentary. From page one, the amount of information presented is like a slap to the face. The plot rarely slows down and grows increasingly complex as the comic progresses, yet it feels like the highest priority was creating a framework to showcase this setting and all its interesting little corners. In the face of such a maximalist comic, I feel that any attempt on my part to “break things down” would betray what the actual reading experience is like. Instead, I will endeavor to share my own reading experience.
If you’ve never worked in a creative field like film, animation, or indeed comics, you might not realize how significant pre-production is. This is the stage in a creative project where nothing is set in stone, and every possible visual idea is tested out and refined. The critical thing is that it lets you go back and forth on a visual, whether it’s a character design, color palette or environment. Your best idea may not be your first, but you’ll find it by incorporating feedback and exploring options. Many, many comics are creatures of the “first idea”, with their tight deadlines and constant need to show off something novel. You often see artists learning to draw a new character right there on the page, subtly tweaking details and features as they get comfortable. Pre-production and production form an imperfect fusion, a compromise.
Nothing about Azimuth feels compromised. Every character has a unique design, drawn consistently, whether they’re on-page in a panel or throughout the book. Every location has bespoke architecture. Creators and vehicles all feel considered in their design, carefully avoiding the look of any single real-world reference point. It’s staggering as an artistic accomplishment, frankly. As an artist myself, every crowd shot makes my head spin with how many interesting characters are tossed out, as though Tazio Bettin has an endless supply of them in his mind. I don’t know how much time this team had to develop Azimuth visually, but what’s on the page looks like the work of a whole concept art team, not just one artist and one colorist.
With artwork this detailed and layouts this dense, the constant narration becomes a kind of visual anchor; a place for the eye to rest. Narratively, however, the narration only adds to the deluge of information. Jargon and suggestive worldbuilding details abound, along with character names, backstories, and plot recaps (this being the collected edition of a story serialized in 2000 AD magazine). It recalls an older style of comic book storytelling: the prose of a Chris Claremont or Roy Thomas, lending flavor and guiding the emotional response the reader ought to have to the art they were looking at. It also implies quite a bit of pre-production on the writing end. Dan Abnett’s narration and dialogue for the Azimuth natives imply a rich history and culture to which we aren’t privy. It combines with all the bespoke design work to create a truly convincing illusion of a place with its own society and history, operating on a logic alien to the real world. There are Lords of the New Flesh, Thins, White-Wearers, Rebooters, Overnauts, Recylepaths, and Outliars. It’s a lot to take in!
That’s all structure and setting, though. What’s the emotional hook? Who are we following? To answer those questions, I have to expose my disconnect with this comic. Azimuth has central characters: Suzi Nine Millimeter and Ramone Dexter. Those characters have unique personalities and motivations, and interact with each other and others in interesting ways. The plotting keeps itself simple and firmly rooted in the present tense, as if Dan Abnett knows the reader needs something grounding. In practice, though, I had a hard time connecting with any of it. It comes down to presentation. The pages are so dense, the plotting so quick, that all information flattens out. I receive flavor text about the history of a particular slum with the same weight as a character breaking down in tears from a personal revelation. Reading, I felt like I was on a road trip, trying to count every tree that passed by the car window. Eventually, my mind yielded to the impossibility of keeping up and glazed over. Credit where it’s due: Abnett is a skilled action storyteller. He knows how to put the screws to his characters and reveal hidden depths through the way they solve problems. Once Dexter meets up with the telepath Cassandra, the peril ramps up, and I even found myself worrying for their safety at one point. That moment of life-or-death stakes is probably the most emotionally invested I’ve been in my reading.
Cassandra, in fact, is the focus of my favorite sequence in the book. See, she has a history. I’m not familiar with the ins and outs of Judge Dredd continuity, but some past storylines are mined to place her in a dire situation: make a deal with The Devil for the second time in her life, or die. Despite the injection of unfamiliar continuity, this conversation is where I truly got hooked into the emotional stakes presented. It feels weighty because the plot slows down, and even though the scene is set in a new location and includes a hallucinatory interlude, it is still just a tense conversation between two characters. Their faces and physical interactions are the primary focus, and they’re well rendered and clear. Abnett plays The Devil as an ex-lover of sorts. Vain, proudly manipulative, and physically domineering when he doesn’t get his way. Cassandra, meanwhile, gets to go through a gamut of emotions that she couldn’t while she was running from one violent encounter to the next. The hierarchy of priorities flips in these pages, placing thoughtful character work above active plot and worldbuilding. I don’t begrudge the rest of the comic for being so world-first, because Azimuth is an impressive place! I just needed a scene like what I just described with Cassandra to care about it, not just admire it.
I think Azimuth will be exactly what a certain kind of reader is looking for. It immerses you in a fully realized world, spares no expense on its fine details, and boasts some stunning sci-fi art. If you have the patience and the inclination to dig deep, this comic offers to reward you for your investment. I found myself skating across the surface, unfortunately. Like listening to a conversation in another language, I could glean the essentials, but the rest just washed over me. The art, the cheeky wordplay of the names and proper nouns, the commentary on power and survival, the deaths and dramatic revelations: all of it is a blur. An interesting experience that didn’t touch me deeply enough to linger.
View on Kindle Store
Buy from Third Eye
This post contains affiliate links. We receive a small commission if you buy through this link.
