In 1538, in the town of Rumpstead, there gambols a rambunctious idiot by the name of Matilde. Her high comfort with the meager zealotry left by perforated holy faiths and the adventure crafted by an England at war with itself quickly translates to a presumption of fate only an orphan would admire.
GOSPEL is an awkward but interesting book. Hidden contentedly among the nonsense narrative of a 16th century teenager whose ego and lust for fame override all but her equally outsized religiosity is a quiet conversation about the dangers of overvalued authority and the seduction of outsider freedoms. Matilde is a dreadfully annoying young woman; she tells tall tales, starts fights, can't swing a sword half as good as she claims, and generally causes trouble for everyone; she thinks herself destined for greatness. And yet, beneath the veneer, one finds a girl without parental guardianship, a young woman without purpose, and a person whose maturity and humility have long been stunted by the rigors of her faith.
Matilde plots and plans and connives to make a name for herself. And when one of her plans goes so far awry as to accidentally summon the devil himself to the roads of Rumpstead (or at least, that's what appears to have happened), the girl sets out in search of a legendary weapon that will smite the beast and win her the fame she believes she deserves. Is Rumpstead worth saving? The whiny townspeople? The exhausted judicial authorities? The braggart guild-mistress? The painter who dreams of a life on her own? The storyteller and scribe whose kindness knows no bounds?
The art and coloring give GOSPEL the sly, partly rustic atmosphere of Euro-centric humanity's most liminal and revolutionary point in time. Desecrated monuments of founding explorers. Scrubbed frescoes of patron deities. Raised market houses packed with well-meaning civilians who bicker and pant and curse. This comic also wields beautiful panel details, and at other times, achingly exquisite and blithely patient page compositions. Of the color theory: washed-out yellows and greens indicate the earnestness of forest under watch by enemies, while the nighttime horizon is awash with a somber, reverential, blue-green glow.
Regrettably, much of these details are in service of a too-forced adventure tale. Matilde seeks glory, and she calls upon any and all means of human pride and condescension to do so. Do her actions justify her faith, or is it the other way around? Her best friend, Pitt, seeks a way out of town. Pitt's presumed lover, Jenefer, is fed up with the backwater religiosity that limits her earning potential. And everyone else in Rumpstead is too preoccupied with winning mild political skirmishes to bother with Matilde's aspirations of grandeur. Alas what's an orphan to do?
Remarkable character design and effective coloring ensure GOSPEL is a gorgeous read, but the rogue spontaneity of the book's protagonist makes the story difficult to enjoy. Characters who seek fun for its own sake aren't very entertaining beyond the courage they inspire in others. And even then, once Matilde learns of the true influence of her mischievous ways, and readers earn a taste of legitimate character development, the book ends.
