If the ending of Wonder Woman #1 is implying what I think it's implying, it's outrageously fucked up. And if you've ever read anything by its writer, Brian Azzarello, you already know he wouldn't have it any other way.

I appreciate Azzarello's work, but have never especially cared for it; I found his Joker was too vile for vile's sake, though I admire the originality behind what he was trying to say. I'm lukewarm toward his "Broken City" run on Batman and found his time on Superman (For Tomorrow) abysmal, but that was more a matter of the particular angle he was taking on the character than anything to do with his talent as a writer (Speaking of the Man of Steel, I found his Luthor miniseries much more interesting).

So when the announcement came that Azzarello was going to be writing Wonder Woman of all characters, I scratched my head for a moment before declaring, "Huh. I bet that'll be really weird but bad-ass."

It is.

We begin with sun god Apollo (channeling Seal circa 1991) on a Singapore penthouse rooftop with three hot young party girls who quickly find themselves conduits for oracles who'll narrate the issue in the eerily odd fashion of finishing each other's sentences. If this neurological violation isn't disturbing enough for you, what they see on a small Virginia horse farm will pit your stomach and skin against each other in a creeped-out crawl-off. (Oh. So that's how centaurs are made. As an owner of horses, I'm not amused. But I'm certainly terrified. Well done, Mr. Azzarello.) There are seriously a couple of panels here that would make Mike Mignola queasy.

This book moves fast. A young girl named Zola doesn't have time to figure out why her farm has suddenly been invaded by guardians and goons of ancient Greek bedtime stories before she's whisked away by a magical key to a London flat that just so happens to be home to Wonder Woman. What follows is an exciting and entirely unforgiving mix of tantalizing mythology, terrible mayhem, and twisted mystery.

And blood. Lots and lots of blood. And maybe a limb. 

There's no time here for the character insights glimpsed among the adventures had so far in the New 52 by Batman or Superman or Green Lantern, but there's also something to be said about a woman who knows how to get things done and does so with the highest regard for the life around her -- as long as that life is on her side. If it isn't, well, good luck with that. 

Azzarello's script is efficient and effective though sometimes perhaps too efficient; one particularly awkward dialogue arrangement nearly knocks the wind out of a scene, and there are other moments where something seems to get lost between the art and the narrative. If there's one thing in this issue that needs improving, it's the need for a slight smoothing of the script/art flow.

I like Diana's new costume for the most part, though the "W" choker seems both repetitive and impractical. With all those sharp points, wouldn't she gouge herself in the throat every time she nodded? And why wear something around your neck that an enemy can grab hold of to drag you around with? 

As horrific and expressive as so much of the artwork is, something about the way Cliff Chiang draws Diana's face seems a little too simple to me sometimes, but on the other hand I think the artwork suits the story pretty well. I'm crazy about Matthew Wilson's colors, which make the monsters seem both otherworldly and right at home in sunny Virginia farm country.

Azzarello's weaving a severely screwed-up tale here, so lasso yourself to this high-energy horror fest and come along for the ride. -- John Bierly

Grade: A-