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The Enigma is one of the oddest, most amazing pieces of comic book art
that I've ever come across. Described as "philosophy disguised as comic
book disguised as philosophy" it never fails in brilliance nor wit, and
is reinforced by scattered, scrawling illustrations that describe and add a
most real surreality. Peter Milligan's own words: "2 Things to Know
about the Enigma: He exists. He doesn't exist."
Seemingly-bland, only-has-sex-on-Tuesday-evenings protagonist Michael
Smith is led on a odd journey, accompanied by cynical, burnt-out
former-comic-book-writer (and homosexual) Titus Bird. The pair embark on a
search to find an incarnation of Titus' old superhero character, the masked
Enigma who has suddenly (and of course mysteriously) appeared in the real
world, a flesh-and-blood hero replica. Along the way encounter the strange
cast including the sensual yet gummy Envelope Girl, a smattering of flying
lizards, a huge crowd of suicidal cult-followers and the Enigma's greatest
nemesis: a deformed creature that carries with it the essence sex in Arizona
many years ago, and happens to be Enigma's merciless mother. The obscure
philosophy gives a sense of limitlessness; yet, the comic never gets so
philosophical that it fails to see the humor in itself.
This is truly a hard piece to describe, so don't take my word for it. Go
out and buy it. Or, if you live in San Francisco, locate it at your public
library. You won't be disappointed by this piece of comic book genius that
produced one of the greatest statements about love I've ever heard: "And
he finds that contrary to popular belief, falling needn't hurt a
bit."
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