There are few names more synonymous with horror than legendary author Stephen King, whose novels have provided ample material for ambitious comic artists for decades. And it seems talent runs in the family, with older son Joe Hill gaining recognition for his hit comic-series-turned-Netflix-show Locke & Key. This time, King has teamed up with his younger son, Owen, for the terrifying new horror novel Sleeping Beauties. Carefully and faithfully adapted by Rio Youers, the first volume of this comic tells the story of disease, gender and worldwide panic, and packs just as much of a punch as the original novel.
Set in the fictional Appalachian town of Dooling, a disease called "Aurora" (yes, like the Disney princess) is putting women permanently to sleep. They are encased in cobweb cocoons which, if removed, send them into an uncontrollable, homicidal frenzy. With half the world nearly out of commission, the few women left awake, as well as all of the men, go practically mad, sending the world spinning into riots, fire and brimstone. Meanwhile, heroic prison psychiatrist Clint Norcross discovers a woman called Evie who is immune to the disease. Evie may provide a cure or the destruction of the world -- whichever comes first.
The idea of a world deprived of one of the two sexes has been previously explored before, in Y: The Last Man, a graphic novel the depicts a world where only one man is left in the world. Without one of the sexes, society crumbles. The topic of gender is a hot-button issue, so the idea of a world without women, that exists entirely at the mercy of men, might seem a tad moralizing.
However, as to be expected by King and his kin, the politics are subtle and nuanced. Many of the men in Sleeping Beauty are well-intentioned if severely flawed. While animal control officer Frank has redeeming qualities despite his temper, most of the other men in Dooling, from prison guards to teenagers, are ruthless, brutal, abusive, deviant and downright murderous. Throughout the story, Evie implies that men are inherently evil, and even talks about erasing the man and woman dichotomy for good. "Just hit delete and start over," she says.
All of this might seem like Sleeping Beauty is the ultimate misandrist critique. However, the women themselves are not idealized, either. They are just as deeply flawed, conflicted and potentially violent as their male counterparts. The most heroic character of the story is a man named Clint. Clint is a psychiatrist who treats everyone, especially the female prisoners, with respect -- which piques Evie's interest. Through Clint, the King family's message shines–we are all flawed, and we are all human.
An uncomfortable story deserves uncomfortable art to go with it. That is not to say that the raw, rickety lines and hyper-detailed faces in Alison Sampson's style are ugly. Far from it. But everything about her style perfectly captures the discomfort of this off-kilter and topsy-turvy world. Dutch angles, painful close-ups, and garish reds and pinks courtesy of Triona Tree Farrell all serve to enhance the horrors on the page, from mouths full of cobwebs, gutted corpses, dislodged eyes and unsettling Instagram posts sprawl across the pages.
That is not to say that Sleeping Beauties is without its flaws. The story is certainly a product of its time -- a period characterized by political extremism, social media rancor, riots and rancorous battles of the sexes. Sometimes, as with the novel, the story goes from zero to sixty in an instant. While it does seem relevant and hammers in the theme of the inherent violence of men, it comes across as too preachy or on the nose at times.
Otherwise, like the original book, the first volume of Sleeping Beauties is worth checking out. It's the start of a thrilling political horror drama that raises thoughtful questions about gender, humanity and accountability in a world where both helplessness and violence reign.
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