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Zodiac Starforce has returned for a second volume subtitled Cries of the Fire Prince, with the creative team of Kevin Panetta, Paulina Ganuchaeu and Sarah Stern showing consummate ease as they head straight back to the fantastical world they created so compellingly in 2015. On the basis of this first issue, the series retains a fully established sense of what it wants to be — and that’s a slight yet fun comic hiding a surprising amount of depth and intent behind the magic powers. The high concept really doesn’t matter so much as the friendships between the lead characters, making this a comic which happily disengages from the chest-puffing and preening of superhero action, and in doing so finds a fulfilling sense of heart and charm. The strength of the creative team lies in their ability to hold back the urge to go over the top and ridiculous, with even the fight scenes being somewhat slowly composed. The characters are more likely to talk tactics for a few panels than they are to ki

Though it’s about ’70s housewives and mob violence, “The Kitchen” #4 is surprisingly calculated rather than exploitative. The new queens of Hell’s Kitchen get an unwelcome surprise when their husbands are released from jail early, and they have to deal with the fallout of usurping their criminal empire. Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle are more concerned with business deals and the internal politics of marriage than they are with violence and gore, and the matter-of-fact executions and ruthless decisions are an asset to the issue. “The Kitchen” has really upped the stakes. Rather than dramatically stacking the issue toward one pivotal point, Masters presents Angie, Kath and Raven’s world as a tapestry of decisions. The structure constantly intersperses one storyline with another, flipping through flashbacks and jumping from execution to homecoming to Mafioso dinner dates. This structure creates a sense of the inevitable by intertwining many stories rather than accelerating one; the crim

It’s a quarter of the way through “The Kitchen,” an eight-issue series from Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle. I liked the concept as soon as I heard it, with mob wives in the ’70s taking over the businesses of their jailed husbands in Hell’s Kitchen. While the story is entertaining, I have to say that it’s Doyle’s art that’s turned out to be the real star of the show. I love that Kath, Raven and Angie all look like sisters, but still also have their own distinct looks that helps us tell them apart. I’m not just talking about their hair colors here, either. Angie comes across visually as the most hesitant and unsure of the trio; her expressions and body language (like when Nicky Lubretzi pushes his way next to her at the table) give us her state of mind without her ever having to say a word. Kath and Raven both project a stronger core, although there’s a slightly harder edge to Kath’s visuals, and you know that at the end of the day she’s going to be the one to get things done. Even away

Previous issues of “Jim Henson’s The Storyteller: Witches” have taken the second part of that title to heart, but issue #3 focuses on the first. Matthew Dow Smith retells an Irish folktale about stories and their power, with the Storyteller himself bookending the issue. (Don’t worry, there are still witches involved.) It’s thematically pitch-perfect and invitingly written, but it needed smoother pacing and bolder artwork. I enjoyed this issue, but it didn’t have the extra edge to make it a must-read. Smith has chosen a perfect folktale for this series, and he does a fine job adapting it. The issue follows a sailor-storyteller who’s shipwrecked on a mysterious island where his imagination holds concrete, physical power. The dialogue is scarce, with most of the story told in captioned narration. As a result, it reads very much like a fireside story, with plenty of foreshadowing and editorializing. This approach also allows Smith to speak in broader strokes. Having a character say, “I

The title of “The Kitchen” #1 by Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle refers to Hell’s Kitchen in the seventies, back when it still had a reputation for being gritty and rough, when it was still a bastion of working-class Irish Americans. Through Masters’ script and Doyle’s fine eye for details, Hell’s Kitchen immediately makes an impression even on the first page, where a brawl that moves outside a pub turns even uglier when Masters lets the reader know through dialogue that this is business, not pleasure. Doyle doesn’t skimp on backgrounds, and from the kitchen walls to the hairstyles and street signs, there’s a wonderful bounty of accurate period texture that makes the story richer. Masters’ storytelling is succinct and the plot is a forward-moving arrow of action and reaction, without any info dumps. The action is gripping, but the setting is better developed than the characters in “The Kitchen” #1. Kath is the clear primary protagonist and gets the most attention from Masters’ script

Working from a script by Jim Henson and Jerry Juhl, Roger Langridge brings yet another Archaia-published Henson gem to shelves. Writing and drawing this tale, Langridge brings the same enthusiasm and spark to these pages as he brought to “The Muppet Show.” Originally intended as a television special, “Jim Henson’s The Musical Monsters of Turkey Hollow” fits nicely as a comic book tale. Set in Turkey Hollow, turkey capital of New Hampshire, this book stars the Hendersons — Timmy; his sister, Ann; and their aunt Clytemnestra. Happy to live their lives, sharing meals, music and chores, the Hendersons literally stumble across the monsters of Turkey Hollow. From there, as happens in made-for-TV specials, the plot takes a turn, Langridge ratchets up the suspense and paves the way towards a happy ending. That’s not to say “The Musical Monsters of Turkey Hollow” is without surprises. Langridge drops in plot twists and amps up the stakes more than once, never needing to expand the cast bey

The beautiful first issue of “The Storyteller: Witches” by S.M. Vidaurri is both a triumph and a failure of visual storytelling. Each individual page is a gorgeous integration of text and visuals, where the sentences are as likely to have spiral shapes as the spinning wheels. Words swirl and dive into fairytale borders, dragon-sized swans and ancient trees. However, beautiful as they are individually, the pages don’t speak to or follow from one another, making the issue feel more like a series of particularly pretty posters than a flowing visual story. Still, this artwork really is stunning, and “The Storyteller: Witches” #1 is an enchanting charmer overall. The series is called “The Storyteller,” and S.M. Vidaurri really has created an issue that feels like the nicest storybook you’ve ever owned. The whole book seems to have been colored in watercolors, and the softness of it drew me right in. Though most pages stay in the same soft, bright palette, there are a few exceptions. When

“The Undertaking of Lily Chen” by Danica Novgorodoff has a title with a double meaning: “undertaking” as in an important or difficult task or venture, and also “undertaking” as it relates to funerals and the procedures of burial. The plot is driven by the folk custom of “corpse brides,” which Novgorodoff explains via an epigraph quote from “The Economist” and then expands with a Chinese history as the story begins. The hero, Deshi, needs a female body to provide a bride for his dead brother. Driven by family duty and guilt, his thoughts turn to murder in the first moment he sees the titular Lily Chen. The prologue is a small tour de force of efficient and emotionally potent exposition. The opening hook is excellent, establishing the hero and the central conflict quickly and suspensefully. In this section, Novgorodoff uses facing pages in alternating prose and pictures to weave together past and present. The pacing for this section is perfect, and Novgorodoff’s prose is poetic, making

“A storyteller is not only a teller of stories, but a collector of them as well.” The collector represented within and by these stories is eclectic, charming, and enchanting. Based upon the short-lived Jim Henson-created live-action series of the same name, “The Storyteller” is an anthology of folk tales collected from across the globe as well as across time. There’s a wide array of comic book talent represented in the nine stories delivered here. This collection ends with a full-length twenty-two-page story based upon an unproduced Storyteller teleplay. That tale, written by Anthony Minghella, Susan Kodieck, and Anne Mountfield, adapted by Nate Cosby and drawn by Ronan Cliquet and Adam Street, adapts a Russian folk tale about a young prince and his ravenous – – in appetite and greed – – sister, who is depicted as a steel-toothed witch baby. The sister lays waste to the kingdom, a land the prince never felt in tune with. It’s an uncommon and unsettling tale, but one that is nicely

This book is based on an unproduced screenplay from Jim Henson and his writing partner Jerry Juhls. They worked on this from the 60s to the 70s and never found a home for it. This represents the sort of experimental insanity you might expect from the guys who brought you “The Muppets” and “Fraggle Rock.” Those were crazy shows for kids that worked evolving ideas into the frenzy of learning minds. “Tale of Sand” is aimed at adults and so is rightfully allowed to be that much weirder, more existential, and truly about something. A strange man wanders into panel — surely once a movie frame — and stumbles into a town where a celebration occurs. It’s a celebration that quickly turns out to be about, and for, him. They slap him on his back and send him on his way to do things he does not understand; neither what he must do nor why is clear. Nevertheless, he is quickly on his way and fighting for his life. Once this set up is established, you have to give your mind over as if David Fincher