Welcome to Postal Notes, a critical read through of the series “Postal.” This series of columns will be done in a mixture of essays and observations of various lengths. I will be using the seven core trade paperbacks that collect issues #1-25 and the various one shots for a total of 27 issues overall. In this column we’ll be working through the second trade, issues #5-8 and “FBI Dossier.”The first four issues of “Postal” are on Comixology Unlimited.

Laying an Ideological Foundation

The first volume of “Postal” did its job by introducing the core cast and establishing the series overall emotional narrative and plot. The second volume contains issues #5-8 and “Postal FBI Dossier” special. In this quartet of issues are a series of one shots that open up Eden, WY and explore its space. The threat of Issac Shiffron looms in the distance. His malevolent influence found only in a letter to Mark and the Postmasters own dark actions modeled after him. For now the creative team explore how Eden functions: from early and secret histories, what they do for entertainment, and what it’s like being the mail man. Through the scenarios in these issues the creative team are able to articulate and explore the ideology the undergirds Eden and most of the characters in “Postal.”

How does mail get delivered in Eden? Sure, Mark handles the last mile side of things, but mail delivery is about interconnected shipping networks. We don’t see brown FedEx trucks in the background of Isaac Goodharts art. At the start of issue #5 we begin to get answers to the mail question, but this issue isn’t really about that. Instead the creative team use audience understanding of Mark and the expectation of routine to quickly disrupt the issue. Disruptions begin on the first page as the series gestures towards “The Dark Knight Returns” with a news bulletin about an ongoing Manson-esque spree. The bulletin is wedged into the middle of the page, momentarily interrupting Mark’s explanation on the ins and outs of Eden’s mail delivery. By the time Squeaky has kidnapped Mark on page 4, and chucks his burner phone out the window the reader knows we’re clearly off the beaten path. That sense is enhanced with the final panel as Goodhart uses perspective to propel the shattered phone keys at the reader in a 3D effect.

Squeaky takes Mark to a cabin where Leland Ball, obscured in a bull mask, sits wounded by the fire. Another member of the party in a fox mask, Patricia Velwinkle, lays dead on the floor. Mark is, understandably, freaked out by all this and begins to imagine the proceedings as if they were a movie he was watching. This change in perspective foreshadows role of storytelling and narrative as a recurring motif in these early issues as they are the mediator through which an ideological perspective is communicated.

The first story is a self-styled origin story for Leland Ball, as we see how he got on the path that led him here. Isaac Goodhart and colorist Betsy Goina completely shift styles in this one and a half page sequence. Goodhart’s smooth lines and figures are replaced with scratchy lines and a heavier cartoon to everything. Goina’s understated pallet is swapped for garish neon colors that give everything an unnatural brightness. Visually they show Ball committing various crimes like breaking and entering, murder, and kidnapping. The stylized art creates dissonance with the smooth rhythming script from Matt Hawkins and Bryan Hill. Ball calls the house he robs a “castle,’ it is shown to be a rundown Victorian style mansion. His eventual murder of its “King” is framed as a psychological breakdown or as he describes it a communion with primordial, supernatural, forces. These forces reveal to him that there are “no Gods or Devil. No justice. No law. Only what we wanted and the things keeping us from having.” Ball forms a reciprocal belief system from this, where rewards for desire are paid for in murder, or as he euphemistically puts it “givin.”

This system is the proto version of Eden’s ideological foundation as set down by Isaac Shiffron, it isn’t as effective. The dissonance in how this story is told makes the reader aware of its mechanics, how it is supposed to entice the audience. By bringing it to the level of consciousness, it is made ineffective. The failure of Ball’s story is rooted in him being shown to be a pale imitation of the devilish Isaac. Both characters are hidden from view and have developed cults of personality through a magnetic charisma. Their treatment is similar, but Ball is quickly dispatched where Isaac lasts much longer.

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While there are similarities between Leland Ball and Isaac Shiffron’s thinking, the former lacks the snappy turn of phrase that articulates Isaac’s Law of Desire. Isaac Shiffron’s moto is “will against will.” The simple totality of it is explained to the reader as Laura thinks back on the early days of Eden. By using a flashback and keeping within artistic continuity, the creative team dives into the realm of the unconscious and you understand to some degree why Laura and the others bought into Isaac.

Once in the early days of Eden, another man coveted Laura’s body. Isaac did not want that, so he strapped him to a stump and put his head upon the block. The whole situation is an object lesson in the foundational law of Eden, WY. It explains Isaac’s delusions of grandeur, why Laura, Magnum and the town eventually rebelled, and how Laura is able to manage Eden to this day. Every encounter is a battle of will decided by what that party is willing to sacrifice to win.

With a credo, “Postal” is able to provide a lens with which to view the events of the subsequent issues and see how they are reinforced. While most of these scenarios are defined by interpersonal conflict, the Laura centric issue #6 shows how it can be related to internal matters seem in the mirrored presentation between her and Emily.

Expressing it Through Scenarios

Panem et Circenses or Bread and Circuses – Juvenal, Satire X

If you put aside questionable neighbors driving down property value, Eden, WY doesn’t seem like a bad place to live. Except, for one crucial aspect, what do you do for entertainment? Big Cable isn’t exactly running lines and cord cutting isn’t an option. The question of entertainment is explored in issue #7 as the Barn Brawl approaches. Eden operates on a Purge mentality that everyone can relax and enjoy some hyper violence once a year to keep the peace the rest of the time. This year the Barn Brawl is headlined by “champion” Mulvey and boxer turned bank robber Curtis and serves as literal manifestation of Isaac’s ideas.

As an event. The Barn Brawl is an exercises of the Mayor’s hegemony on the culture and citizenry, allowing for a momentary suspension of Eden’s basic commandments. It also serves as a basic example of the kind of malaise expressed in the phrase “bread and circuses” attributed to the Roman poet Juvenal. The original poem was a critique of Rome’s populace, now well into the Imperial phase around circa 100 A.D., for forgetting their Republican roots in favor of cheap entertainment. For Eden the Barn Brawl highlights the breakdown in governance, Eden exists in a state similar to the Principate era of Rome where the quasi-monarchial system existed propped up the façade of Republican institutions. Juvenal’s critique is perhaps a bit naïve and nostalgically populist in its conception of Republican Rome, Rome was never that docile and neither is Eden. As the events Maggie helps to instigate in issue #8 demonstrate, the populace of Eden hasn’t forgotten its collective will as it plays the long game against Laura and her administration.

The fight between Curtis and Mulvey in issue #7 is a literal personification of will against will on pages 69-72. Curtis and Mulvey pummel one another until Curtis lands a hard right to the ribs. Goodhart’s page design is a collage of violence and its affects. Panel layouts are scattered, physically overlapping, and lack a clean reading line – save for a trio of panels at the bottom of page 70. The first batch of panels are horizontal and emphasize the reach and size difference between the two combatants, as Mulvey pounds Curtis early on. When Curtis is momentarily dropped, panels shift vertically as Mulvey lords over him like a Goliath. The scattered page layout makes use of the page as the ultimate panel, as the container of a single idea: physical trauma. Curtis’ come back is more organized but carries a similar emphasis. The higher degree of organization allows Goodhart to visually represent the second of silence Curtis missed from his earlier boxing days. While this page, 72, isn’t as panel dense it operates on the same principle of Bernard Krigstein’s work in the old EC horror comics, where he would draw out and decompress time to emphasize the horror of the moment. In the case of “Postal” silence is achieved in the wordless loud faces of the audience and cascade of panels that capture Mulvey’s crumpling body.

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Isacc’s basic ideology becomes the justification for vigilante violence in issue #8. In the cliffhanger from the previous issue, Maggie askes for Mark’s help in murdering someone. That someone is Johan Richter aka Laura’s creepy tech guy. As Laura plans to bring the surveillance state to Eden, Maggie plans to murder him as an act of Eden’s collective will and defiance of Laura’s.

The creative team have materialized a cast of ne’er-do-wells, they aren’t traditionally “good” people. It creates a tension in the reader between their sense of good and poor taste. That tension is pronounced when it is dealing with Johan. His jacket says he did time for grand larceny and tax evasion, but it’s the body of a dead girl found on his property that put the stigma on him. He just looks and acts a bit creepy. Aesthetically, Isaac Goodhart and Betsy Goina leaned into the American conception of the pedophile in designing the character. However, appearances deceive in Eden. Maggie is a very conscious Girl Next Door act. Big Injun isn’t a stereotype. As Johan vociferously proclaims his innocence in the girl’s death, I’m inclined to believe him a bit. By the end of the issue I feel bad for his murder, Goodhart inserts little panels to highlight moments of pain caused by escaping the fire, and wonder if he really is what he looked like.

His murder isn’t even really about him as much it is about the idea of him. Maggie wraps her reasoning in an appeal to the collective will of Eden’s residence and their “right” not to live next to him. But as Mark figures out, Maggie’s actions are animated just as much by, if not more, defying Laura. Johan is just caught up in this messy battle of wills. Maggie is right about one aspect, Laura’s law is slowly eating them alive and people will do something about that eventually if they desire it.

Visually Undermining the Ideological Foundation

The second volume of “Postal” establishes the underlying ideology of the series core inhabitants. Over the span of 4 issues it is expressed through scenarios and fictional history allowing it to be depicted as a lived experience. While it is a fundamental component, not everything in this block of issues is reducible down to that credo. Tucked in between two sequences of battle are challenges to Isaac Shiffron’s values. As Curtis and Mulvey beat the tar out of one another intercut with that sequence is a scene between Maggie and Mark as they talk about the nature of their relationship. On first glance it appears to be the emotional version of the Barn Brawl. It is the antithesis of Isacc’s moto and an important scene in representing “why” Mark and Maggie’s relationship works in the context f “Postal” and showing how to resist the call to battle. Another sequence in issue #5 uses irony to demonstrate how Mark is clearly not his father. These sequences rely on the work of the art team to undermine and show different possibilities beyond Isaac’s totalizing mythology.

The motto of “will against will” is an inherently aggressive one. It views the world through the lens of necessary and perpetual conflict, which serves to only reinforce itself with each battle. For Leland Ball it justified his criminality and cult. It supported Isaac’s divine delusions. It is the means that allows Laura Shiffron to play her own Game of Thrones with the citizenry of Eden.

Maggie and Mark’s conversation in the diner is the antithesis of that ego driven thinking. Neither party is there to trick or dominate the other, it’s two people talking. Most conversations in “Postal” so far have been one sided and transactional in nature. By showing the two have honest communication with one another it demonstrates to the reader why their relationship works. And I don’t mean romantically, yet, but as two friends. Instead of attempts at domination it shows what makes them work: they support one another. Mark helped Maggie get out from under the FBI. Maggie helped him confront his assailants and is a mediator in social situations. Together they murder someone in the next issue, which isn’t a “good” thing but are actions taken only after mutually agreed upon.

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Goodhart’s framing of this sequence is slightly voyeuristic. From the private pre-talk Maggie has with herself to the use of high angle perspective and natural barriers like a window, Goodhart artistically highlights the private nature of this conversation, juxtaposing it against public displays of violence. By visually reinforcing the private nature of their conversation, it highlights the distinction between public and private personas and uses alternative visuals that do not allow this conversation to be viewed as a battle.

When things are given a more standard presentation, it has a surprising impact. Mark isn’t the most emotive character, as he tells Maggie he wants to make her happy, his expression isn’t pitched. There’s a sort of pragmatic honesty to the framing as he stares at Maggie/the reader. Mark’s desire for Maggie’s happiness also flies in the face of the materialist thinking of those around him. In the Laura issue, the other man wanted her body not her as a person. Isaac covets Laura as an object to control not as a human being. Mark doesn’t want Maggie, he wants Maggie to be happy – with or without him.

As previously discussed in issue #5, Mark is kidnapped and regaled by Leland Ball. Throughout their time together Mark consistently notes Ball’s deteriorating condition until he finally acts!

“And I pretend I’m my father” are the only words accompany this page of action. For the first, and pretty much only time, Mark is figured by the art team as an action hero badass. Unlike the boxing match, the action on this page is clean and fluid. The first panel shows him triumphantly tackling Leland to the ground and tearing the gun, a modern phallic symbol, from him. In doing so he takes control. Squeaky is shown in a perpetual state of shock across two panels. By the final panel Leland has his arms out in a crucifix position, waiting to be martyd. Visually it’s clear, Mark acted like his Father, a Man, took the symbolic phallus and asserted his dominance. He won the battle of wills.

Mark has Leland dead to rights he only needs to pull the trigger. Mark is undone in classic ironic fashion with the turn of the page. The gun, like the masculinity he immolates, is empty. The irony of this situation is rooted in the philosophical work of Jaques Lacan. In Jacques Lacan reworking of Freud, he attempted to remove the idea of the phallus from biological ties, because he viewed the phallus as a symbolic construct. As a symbol it is only effective when it is removed from the real. When brought into the realm of tangibility comparisons and realities own inadequacies quickly overcome any of the perceived power. In acting like his father and bringing the symbolic into the real, he ironically highlights the empty nature that is advocated(1). As Mark pulls the trigger with a distinct empty “click” of the hammer, the page shatters into panels. Mark acted like his Father would want him to and it’s going to get him killed.

The critique of excessive masculinity continues as Sheriff Magnum bursts through the window guns blazing. Goodhart ends that page on the image of Mangum and his very large handgun blowing a hole through Squeaky’s throat. Rory Lafleur the man who would be Sheriff Magnum, has wrapped himself in masculine symbols to overcome his own feelings of inadequacy and insecurity per the “FBI Dossier.” While he plays the action hero role in this sequence, he still has to ambush them to win, hardly the John Wayne he immolates.

In a book filled with people looking to fight, usurp, and dominate one another, the use of visual storytelling highlight alternatives in cracks of the shaky ground Eden is built on.

1. Sheridan, Alan. “Signification of the Phallus.” Ecrits: A Selection. By Jacques Lacan. New York: Norton, 1977. 281-92. Print.