Thomas and Windsor-Smith are off to a great start. Windsor-Smith’s art is, of course, not as finished as he’s become, but he does have some amazing panels. Oddly, when he’s at his lesser, he resembles an unintentional Mike Ploog (especially in the faces—but sharp compared to Ploog’s roundedness). It’s very strange.
The story introduces Conan but also gives the reader some sense of the world he’s in. Thomas has this sort of time machine device, which might not make any sense, but it does the job of placing the events.
It’s an action issue—the present action takes place over less than a day—and Thomas works in a number of scenes. It’s a full read, ending with Conan alone. It sort of starts with him alone, moves him into having companions and leaves him worse than he started.
There’s an energy and excitement to the book.
Smith’s slavish devotion to Kirby finally begins to show some deviation here:
you see tons of Kirby mannerisms, but the underbelly of the compositions seems to be Smith waking up from his inspired sleep. The steadfast six panel page starts being replaced by the dictates of the action. Other influences begin to creep in on Smith’s art, as well. The blossoming begins…