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Grant Morrison comes into Nameless fully loaded. It’s got aliens, it’s got secret societies, it’s got that weird vaguely sexual thing going on, it’s got dream logic, it’s got something approaching drug logic — all the Grant Morrison trademarks are there, backed up by Chris Burnham doing the work of his career. But: does it all add up?

The short answer is yes. Grant Morrison’s last creator-owned turn, Happy!, eschewed the million-ideas-per-page Morrison for something more grounded, and that was effective. This, however, is the Grant Morrison that brought us WE3 and the Filth. There’s a whole lot going on — the opening is very hard to follow but equally worth digging into — and everything that happens is unsettling. The Filth comes to mind: that was Morrison digging through the darkness of his life and leaving his guts open and smelly on the page. This seems to be Grant Morrison — in his entirely unique Grant Morrison way — talking about our world, how screwed it is, and how scary that concept is. This is, be warned, not an upbeat book. It’s about an asteroid on a collision course with Earth and the rag-tag team that — against all odds — is going to stop it. Heady, downright Morrisonian material.

Chris Burnham is a guy who unfairly got classed as ‘the Frank Quitely who can hit a deadline.’ Sure, the Quitely influence is there, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have his own vibe, his own tics, and his own skills to bring to the table. The superhero genre, as open as it can be, seemed to have limited Burnham; there was something bubbling under the surface, waiting to get out. Enter Nameless, and we’re seeing the Chris Burnham that the smart reader always knew he could be. His layouts are absolutely dazzling, and there’s a tight, Darick Robertson-at peak-skill sort of thing going on with the inking. The action, though it’s spare, hits hard. Some of the shots — like a few dizzying overheads — make you wonder how a human could actually draw these thngs. It’s one of the strongest artistic turns of the year so far.

Nathan Fairbairn’s colors are perfect. Morrison’s story begs for mood, and Fairbairn delivers; the murk is murky without feeling like it muddles any of the storytelling, the brights border on surreal (and what else would you expect?); layouts were mentioned earlier, and there are often tricks in the coloring — usually involving heavy contrast — that make everything pop all the more.

If you missed the Grant Morrison that dabbled in the occult and the scientific, you’re going to be drooling by the time you hit the last page of this book. If you want to see an already-excellent artist make a statement that he’s ready to become a household name, look real hard at Chris Burham’s pencils and inks. Basically, you need this in your life.