Scribbler's Periodical

An Examination of 'Tales of the Thundercloud Kid'

An Examination of 'The Charmingly Odd and Oddly Charming Tales of the Thundercloud Kid' by Thundercloud Kid

Extract from the blurb:

All thirteen instalments of our graphic novel series revolve around McKinley, the troubled titan of Lake Effect Steel.  His journey to save Her takes him all over the Mo(u)rning Lake region as he attempts to maintain peace in an increasingly hostile world.

The Charmingly Odd and Oddly Charming Tales of the Thundercloud Kid, my dear friends, is an obscure piece-  it’s murky with the devices of a decaying dominion and it’s swathed in the shadows of its mystifying characters. It reads like poetry, and proves to be the ideal source of respite if you seek asylum from the unquantifiable amounts of sheer jawkery-powkery that seems to be circulating the main court of the literary world (an exceedingly unfortunate state of affairs, if you ask me). This tale of Thundercloud Kid is without doubt, of elegant construction- it is riddled with piercing metaphors that never seem to leave you, individuals with a satiating amount of complexities, and a degenerating world that is patiently waiting for its hero. An explosive start, simply explosive.

Now, if you must know, I am a patron of tragedy. Nothing is more engaging than fraying morality, damning heartbreak, bitter losses and the general misery of mankind. A rather cheerful way to pass the time, yes? Thundercloud Kid seems to comprehend the constitution of such grim desires, for our tale start in the dumps, and moves with surprising speed, to the gutters. We begin with a somewhat unusual romance- it is not the love between a man and a woman, no. It is the love between a man and an ideology, a philosophy, a symbol of ‘the extraordinary gift for hope’. It is, with all flamboyance, avant-garde. Set in the grey and melancholic world of Overcast City, our leading man, the paradoxical McKinley, is a savage streak of passion across the bleak waters of Mo(u)rning lake, and the bleaker population of his dreary metropolis.

Spectacularly narrated, our writer manages to construct their characters’ relationships without the perpetual need to ram large and blundering chunks of dialogue into the chapter, which, if you are abreast with the current writing styles of the day, is an endemic (much like the plague, deary) that half the populace is suffering from. Why, the other day, I read the work of a darling new writer, who set off writing a novel, and accidently produced a play. But Thundercloud Kid is nothing short of a saviour on the war riddled planes of direct speech. Their work is the product of a surprisingly sound mind, that’s been heavily gifted with a striking imagination. The tales of Thundercloud Kid are sharply laced with dazzling imagery- it’s not an ocean that they’ve crammed into a teacup, but the whole blooming Pacific into a proper Royal Albert affair.