Or – “The Song Remains The Same…”

Every limited series boils down to one of three premises. The establishment or re-emphasizing of important characters or bits of information that may be necessary for upcoming events (see the Annihilation minis or the Infinite Crisis buildup books, or even Uncle Sam & The Freedom Fighters). The second premise is to put and/or keep a character in the spotlight (most of Marvels’ original minis, the Ghost Rider: Hammer Lane mini, and the current White Tiger book all fit this criteria). The Eternals is an example of the third type of series, the revitalization/reworking of a character or characters who have fallen out of favor. Notable minis of this type include the two Bob Layton ‘Hercules’ miniseries, the recent four issue Union Jack book, and even Crisis on Infinite Earths itself. The funny part is, I didn’t recognize Eternals as a “Type 3″ until the end of this issue. It’s a testament to Neil Gaiman’s subtleties as a writer that he was able to completely reimagine a concept already filled with unbridled ideas, but it also makes what’s to come that much more difficult to deal with…

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Or – “Time Is An Illusion. Lunchtime, Doubly So.”

In my other job, I have been fielding a lot of questions about why the series was solicited as 6 issues, but the story hasn’t ended here. Indeed, until this issue, each month’s Eternals bore the legend “(issue #) of 6.” Simple answer: Neil Gaiman asked for more pages to finish out his story, and, with millions upon millions of Sandman trades in circulation, you don’t say no to Neil Gaiman. He’s the nicest 500 pound gorilla in comics. When I covered issue four of this series, sometime back in the late Pleistocene era, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the art, the mysteries of the plot, and the overall cosmic scope of what was going on… Now that the end is near, how has the series fared?

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Or “How Can You Be Two Places At Once When You’re Not Anywhere At All?”

Neil Gaiman is one of those writers who make people like me flap their arms in a complete brain-melting furor, finally and completely aware of what it is to know you’re never going to be the best writer around, and furthermore, you’re probably not only not in the ballpark, you’re stuck in the parking lot of the wrong team, wearing a tinfoil helmet, a home-made uniform, and wielding a football bat. If Neil Gaiman, as a writer, is the equivalent of Prometheus bringing fire from Olympus, then I am, metaphorically speaking, the guy painted on the side of the FTD truck. Thus, I must throw aside natural jealousy to tell you the most important thing about “Eternals…” More After the Jump >>