The Death-Ray by Daniel Clowes

The Death-Ray Reviews

• 
  Forrest

  I found The Death-Ray intriguing in its main conceit, compelling in its design, and frustrating in its hipster aloofness. I'll spare the plot outline (see the summation under the book's description on goodreads - it's adequate enough) and only say that the main superhero tropes are old enough and trite enough to just be acceptable at face value by anyone who has even a passing knowledge of the superhero genre. And perhaps it's this blase acceptance of the fantastic that led me, ultimately, to feel so depressed by the time I was finished with the book. The lack of focus on the superpower itself forces the reader to concentrate on the main character's failed relationships, the failed relationships of those around him, and the general cruelty of human beings to one another. Not a recipe for a good time, to say the least.
  
  I will say one thing: Clowes' use of word bubbles is brilliant and lends itself to supposition and inference on the part of the reader. That is, word bubbles that are partially off-panel and only show some of the characters' dialogue make the reader dig in order to catch the full import of what is happening, what is being said, and what is not being said. Clowes pulls the reader into the story by giving just enough visual and narrative information to start the reader off, but the reader must supply the finishing touches that spark off understanding in her or his mind. Clowes also uses the trick of giving past narrative (the characters' words) in present panels (the visual representation of the characters' actions). One often wonders if the characters are acting in the present or the past and if their words are to be taken as something that arises from represented action or if they are completely disjointed from the events shown in the illustrations. This keeps the reader sharp, alert, and engaged. It should be noted that these tricks simply could not be pulled off in any other medium. Bravo, Clowes!
  
  Ultimately, the story is about justice and one's right (or not) to mete out justice on those one deems "guilty". Andy, the main character, is the arbiter of said justice, though one never really knows how he internally arbitrates in passing judgement. What is guilt? What is innocence? Who gets to decide? The burden of absolute power forces the question of whether or not absolute power corrupts absolutely. Perhaps the seeds of corruption are already inherent in those that inherit power. If that's the case, then how can our judgement of power-wielders be just? Or is justice blind to predisposition and only executed against those who engage in unjust action?
  
  The Death-Ray did do one thing for me: it made me think. That's usually a good thing, but the arbitrary nature of Andy's judgement, either guided by his maladjusted friend, Louie, or arising from within himself, left me feeling emotionally empty. I'm still undecided as to whether Andy was
  pathologically narcissistic or simply emotionally paralyzed by the stunning discovery of his superpower (augmented by the death ray of the book's title). Either way, he's not the kind of guy I can feel for and definitely not the kind of guy I'd want to be around for any length of time. I value my safety far too much to endanger it by hanging out with people that don't feel empathy or regret, which seemed to be at the core of Andy's problems and was also at the core of my problems with the book itself. Clowes' The Death-Ray was simultaneously brilliant and draining. In some ways, I finished the book feeling that I had turned the gun on myself.
• 
  Dan Schwent

  When Andy puffs on a cigarette at age seventeen, he finds that he has super strength for a limited time. Coupled with a mysterious pistol he inherited from his father, he fights crime as The Death-Ray!
  
  I've recently become interested in Daniel Clowes and my wife bought me this as a surprise. The art is standard Clowes, although it seems like there are some Ditko Spider-Man homages in it. It's an oversized book, not unlike the Charles Burns books that have come out in relatively recent years. The larger size makes for an impressive presentation. I'd hate to read this at comic size. More than one page uses a five by five grid. A lot of comic artists make me think I couldn't write and draw a comic in a thousand years. Clowes makes me think I could do it if I buckled down and re-learned how to draw the Archie characters for a few months. It's inspiring, in a way. I enjoy Clowes' artwork if that isn't clear.
  
  The story reads like a super hero deconstruction written by Wes Anderson, although I'm sure it was written before Anderson came to prominence. Andy is a misfit that lives with his elderly grandfather. He has a friend, another misfit named Louie, and a girlfriend in California that he writes to that never writes him back. So what would an outcast nerd do with super strength and a disintegrator pistol? Something like this, I'm afraid.
  
  There's only 48 pages so I don't want to divulge too much of the plot. Suffice to say, Andy starts as a misfit, becomes a super hero of sorts, and ends as a misfit. When your powers hinge on smoking cigarettes, shit is bound to go south eventually.
  
  The Death-Ray is a fun, sensitive super hero deconstruction. Four out of five death-rays.
• 
  Anthony Vacca

  A familiar story of male adolescence: you are an unpopular, scrawny-bodied teenager with only one (equally unpopular) friend and a long-distance girlfriend, named Dusty, with whom you maintain a chaste, unfulfilling pen-pal relationship; you sleep and sweat through hot and heavy dreams about the middle-aged, granny-glasses wearing black woman who takes care of the withering grandfather who raised you; you feel a restless sense of purpose - or maybe even destiny - that is strangled by the vacuity of suburban existence...until one day you barf-up your first cigarette and afterwards discover that your long-dead famous scientist father did some super=secret experiments on you as a baby so that the combination of pubescent hormones and nicotine instill within you superhuman strength and dexterity. Obviously you patchwork a goofy costume together and seek out criminals to quash, which turns out to be not as exciting a prospect as you yearned for (suburbia is not crawling with super villains, go figure); and so your restlessness continues to grow to new heights of seething rage and impotence. But, oh...oh, yes, all of this changes when you wrap your hands around your very own death ray. It may look like a tinker toy, but when you grip it ever so tightly, it has the power to obliterate whatever you desire - lucky for you, the planet is peopled with billions of human slugs, all of whom deserve your righteous judgment.
  
  But the years pass, as they are want to do, and even with great powers and/or great responsibility, you still end up exactly like everyone else: an overweight, balding invisible blah with two unsuccessful marriages and two successful divorces. Yes, friends, can't you just relate? After all, we all end up being just like everybody else: just another nobody, that's all.
• 
  Stewart Tame

  Superheroes from the mind of Dan Clowes! No, really; that's more or less what this is. Of course there's more to it than that, and I guarantee it's nothing like any other superhero book you may have read. There are, I suppose, maybe some vague similarities to Kick Ass, but that's about all I can come up with. So what would really happen if a high school student discovered he had super powers? This being a Dan Clowes book, our hero is a loner, not athletic, reasonably intelligent, socially awkward, highly introspective. In addition to the powers, he also acquires the titular death-ray. Point the gun at something. Pull the trigger. It disappears. How would the ability to wield that sort of power affect someone? Time summed it up best with their blurb on the back cover, "Like Holden Caulfield with his phaser set on kill. Phonies beware." Among other skills, Dan Clowes excels at bringing loners to life, and this book is a perfect example of that.
• 
  Sam Quixote

  Meet Andy, a quiet, lonely boy growing up in the 70s who has one friend and is being raised by his grandfather who is likely developing Alzheimer’s. One day by chance Andy smokes a cigarette and discovers that nicotine activates “super powers” where he gains super strength. Couple that with his father’s legacy leaving Andy a handheld “death ray” once he realises his super powers, and Andy goes from being an awkward teen to having the power of life and death in the palm of his hand.
  
  Andy is your typical Clowes-ian character – awkward loner, angry at the world, cynical yet disarmingly open about their bizarre world views, and prone to strange acts in public. Quirky in a word, and Andy is very much in the vein of other Clowes characters from Ghost World, Ice Haven, Mr Wonderful, Wilson, and so on.
  
  The book follows the story of Andy and his strange friend Louie as they try to find real world applications to Andy’s Death Ray, at first picking out school bullies, then moving onto targets in the wider world. It can be read as a straight story with Andy actually having real super powers and the death ray really is a death ray but Clowes seems to be inviting interpretation in these incidents. Andy “blacks out” when he gets super powers, realising afterwards that he’s pummelled someone’s face into a bloody mess and the death ray works by “popping” someone out of existence in an instant – are the two connected? Is Andy in fact just an out and out psycho “popping” people out of existence with his hands?
  
  Or maybe it’s a far more depressed version of “Kick Ass”, especially as Andy makes a costume to wear, and Clowes is showing how lonely and empty being a superhero is and how superpowers don’t make you happy.
  
  Either way it’s a pretty interesting, if gloomy, read with Clowes’ great art and imaginative layouts. A must for fans of Clowes, though this appeared in his comic book series “Eightball” a few years ago so if you’re a subscriber to that you’ve already got this, but fans of indie comics will find plenty to enjoy here as well.
• 
  Jason Pettus

  (Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
  
  It was just a month or two ago that I was reviewing Daniel Clowes' Mister Wonderful, lamenting that little wisp of a story and declaring how much I was looking forward instead to his next major masterpiece; and now it's here, in the form of a giant oversized hardback called The Death-Ray, although with "new" perhaps not being the best term, in that this is actually a reprint of a 2004 issue of his idiosyncratic comic book Eightball. Nonetheless, this sees Clowes in the same brilliantly dark, surrealist form as such past classics as David Boring and Like A Velvet Glove Cast in Iron, telling the story of a nerdy, antisocial teen and double orphan in the mid-1970s who discovers that his dead father committed bizarre genetic experiments on him as a child, granting him superhuman abilities every time he smokes a cigarette but also an uncontrolled rage to go along with it; the story itself, then, is partly about what a sociopathic loner like him might actually do with such powers, partly about his "Ghost World"esque loser best friend as he transitions from heavy metal and dysfunction to punk rock and relative normalcy in those same years, and partly what can only be called the most deconstructionist take Clowes has done yet on the entire subject of visual storytelling in the first place (and this from a guy who spends a lot of time thinking about the conventions of the comic-book format), the story itself hopping back and forth between different styles and color palettes in order to set different emotional tones for different scenes, and Clowes brilliantly adding context to dialogue by sometimes literally cutting voice bubbles halfway off with the edges of his story frames. A fantastic treat for existing fans, and a great starting point for those unfamiliar with his work, like a lot of artists throughout history a conservative President in power seems to do wonders for Clowes' artistic output, with him churning out classic after classic during the Bush years but now in a seemingly constant flounder since Obama got elected in 2008. An absolute must-read for all of CCLaP's readers, and a book that will very likely be making my best-of lists at the end of the year.
  
  Out of 10: 9.6
• 
  Glenn Sumi

  The comic and movie kick-ass and the films Super and Defendor have turned the real-life-superhero genre into a cliché. But Daniel Clowes breathes new life into it in The Death-Ray, a dark and philosophical look at what it means to have the godlike power to take lives.
  
  Scrawny high-schooler Andy, who lives with his grandfather (both his parents have died), is bullied and friendless, save for his rebellious buddy Louie, who's got problems of his own. But a puff on a cigarette (a typically dark Clowesian joke) kickstarts a radical change in Andy's body, and soon he's able to beat up anyone who gets in his way – after a couple of drags, of course. The discovery of the titular death-ray gun only ups the stakes.
  
  Originally published in Eightball magazine, this is graphic storytelling at its best. Clowes plays brilliantly with chronology, tone and style. Some illustrations have a hyper-realist edge to them, others are shaded like an old-school noir, while still others are playfully childlike. And the author constructs the narrative in inventive ways, throwing in interviews, snatches of love letters and episodes involving seemingly unimportant secondary characters.
  
  Talk of a film adaptation abounds, but it'd be hard to top the book for its complexity. Clowes, who co-wrote the superb adaptation of his book Ghost World, has found the perfect medium to express his thoughts on loneliness, power and despair.
  
  Originally published in NOW Magazine:
  https://nowtoronto.com/art-and-books/...
  
  Related interview with author Daniel Clowes:
  https://nowtoronto.com/art-and-books/...
• 
  Mark Desrosiers

  The plot here begs for ridicule: an orphaned boy discovers that his father had performed genetic experiments which cause him to acquire superhuman strength and rage when he smokes tobacco. Also, there is a death ray involved, which only he can use. In Clowes' hand, this goofy premise takes on an eerie, evocative quality, with brief (dreamed?) snatches of sex to spice up this virgin superhero's saga. And you can probably guess how tedious and grim his love life becomes, how middle age shapes him into a bitter asshole, how we get to choose his fate on the final page.
• 
  Erika

  Purely an emotional rating. It would have been another start if I had been on some kind of drug while I read it. I only have to quote one thing to sum up this book:
  
  "You try to make the world a better place and what does it get you? I mean, Christ, how the hell does one man stand a chance against four billion assholes."
  
  Fun read.
• 
  Ludwig Aczel

  6/10
  Two things are very dangerous in fiction, comics above all:
  1) realistic depictions of people with superpowers;
  2) realistic depictions of teenagers.
  Daniel Clowes decides to close his Eightball comic book series attempting a double somersault: let's tangle those two things together!
  A 17 year old boy gets the power of turning super strong whenever he smokes (regular cigarettes), as well as the power of erasing people from the universe with a magic gun. It is not clear why Clowes needs to introduce these two disjoints powers, considering that (at least) one of them seems to go nowhere plot-wise.
  As often in Clowes' stories, the protagonist is not just realistic. He is miserably realistic, and realistically miserable. So, what happens when this kid gets the magical power of erasing people from existence in one snap? Well, he ends up doing what most teenagers do, with or without a death-ray gun: he follows his douchebag best friend in a sequence of stupid actions, then proceeds to erase the friend himself from his life. Only, in this case the erasure is literal.
  Maybe this story is a metaphor of adolescence, and life in general. (Towards the end of the book we get a first person sum up of the rest of the boring life of the character, including a few other death-ray murders perpetrated in the name of justice and politeness.) I honestly never know what Clowes is trying to say. Not that I look for messages in fictional stories. Only, Clowes always gives me this feeling that he is actively trying to tell me something, but don't know what (me and him don't know, probably). I have this constant feeling of 'communication failure' when I read him, and not in a good way.
  Another thing that I wonder is why there is no serious attempt on humour in Clowes's books. The context of his stories - especially this one - seems fertile ground for irony and dark humour. However, Clowes always remains one step away from that. Who knows, maybe he even tries while writing, but then desists not liking the result?
  Anyhow, unlike books such as
  David Boring or
  Ghost World, this story is at least blessed with a certain variety in page composition and colouring schemes, so it was interesting for me to read. I also appreciated the few descends into strip-like territory, even if they were not as prominent or useful to the storytelling as in other books by Clowes, of the kind of
  Wilson or
  Ice Haven.
• 
  Peter Derk

  Daniel Clowes does some weird stuff. I don't know how someone who doesn't read a lot of comics would take it. Maybe it would be easier because you don't have all these ideas about capes and underpants and muscles and stuff. On the other hand, maybe someone who doesn't read a lot of comics would find his stuff just completely bizarre. I just don't know how integral it is to read some comics before really getting into his stuff.
  
  That said, I read this one in the middle of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago where they had a special Clowes exhibit.
  
  I went with family, and here are general CAM reviews:
  
  Mom: "The exhibits rotate. You just have to roll the dice, and sometimes you get lucky."
  
  Uncle: "This whole place could burn down and they wouldn't lose anything of value."
  
  If I could give one piece of advice to artists, make art that people can sit on. Seriously. There's nowhere to sit in these fucking places. You're standing there looking at a bunch of stuff piled onto a platform. I guarantee a sitting area that's also art would be the most popular exhibit in the joint.
  
  Anyway, I like Clowes, but it's hard for me to say why. He's a talented artist, for sure, and he's not afraid to go into a dark place. It's just not for everyone, I'm thinking.
  
  That said, if someone wanted to give him a try, I think this is one of the more accessible titles. See, do you see what I picked up at the art museum? That's an "accessible" piece. I'm smart as all shit now!
• 
  Andrew

  Since
  Watchmen, it's been common practice for comic books to "deconstruct" superheroes to expose the icky crypto-fascist male power fantasies beneath the capes and masks. In the hands of most writers/cartoonists **cough cough**
  Mark Millar**cough cough**, this now comes off as glib and cynical. In the hands of Daniel Clowes, it somehow still feels revelatory.
  
  Unlike Millar, Clowes isn't concerned with being clever, and he definitely isn't trying to generate "hot new IP" for film rights and the like. Yes, parts of "The Death Ray" are direct parodies of Batman and Spider-Man. Yes, the book indicts comics fans for our dumb fantasies of heroism. But it's also an extremely sad coming-of-age story, presented with a careful balance of empathy and detachment. Clowes has the good taste and restraint to leave much of the story to the readers' imagination, suggesting events and motivations as much as he reveals them.
  
  Clowes' artwork and layouts recall various Bronze and Golden Age superhero comics, but there's no thrill behind any of his violence. When our wannabe hero inevitably uses his superpowers for petty, brutal purposes, he doesn't transform into a colorful villain or a tortured anti-hero. He's still the same sad, anonymous loser as before, and life goes on, without any fight scenes or dramatic speeches or knowing winks at the audience.
  
• 
  Sarah

  You know, every time I go to pick up a Daniel Clowes book I think to myself "Maybe this time it will not be an incomprehensible pretentious mess". And every time I'm disappointed. Where to start? This book doesn't have a plot. It has a string of semi-cogent moments, self-referential diatribes, time skips, and characters that frankly all kinda look the same. Story lines with certain characters are dropped like hotcakes (whatever happened with the grandpa) and sometimes you're not really sure what happened because for some reason, Clowes doesn't show anyone getting killed by the Death Ray, just the vague pomo aftermath. I think the reader is supposed to string this mess together them self, but really, it's just so confusing I found myself wishing it would end soon. And considering how short this book is, that's really saying something.
• 
  Nick Kives

  There will always be a place on my bookshelf for a Clowes book. When the movie for Ghost World came out, I loved it and immediately went out to find the book for it, and loved that as well. It was the first comic I had picked up in years, and would be the only until after Katrina. Unfortunatly, I haven't felt the same way in the last two books. This one is better than
  David Boring but still not up there.
• 
  Andy

  It's no coincidence that Daniel Clowes designed the poster for Todd Solondz's film "Happiness". Like Solondz, Clowes has made his mark depicting people that are ugly and socially constricted. The Death Ray's no exception, and it's unfortunately just as bad as his previous work Mr. Wonderful.
  
  The misanthropy in this book is sludgy to the point of crushing. At least in Wilson there was some humor to temper the pithiness of the main character. There's nothing here, just the rantings of an angry, sexually unfulfilled old man.
• 
  Bob Solanovicz

  Ovaj strip nema 48 stranica kako piše u opisu na Goodreads stranici nego samo 40. I, što se mene tiče, to je sasvim dovoljno jer je Clowes na tih 40 strana ispričao sve što treba. Iako mi se isprve nije činilo da će biti tako jer je nakon 24 stranice The Death-Ray djelovao kao još jedan ogorčeni obračun Clowesa i superjunačkog stripa, čega sam se stvarno i previše načitao. No, ono u što se strip pretvori do kraja je stvarno nešto iznad svih mojih očekivanja. Usudio bih se reći da mi je ovo najbolji Clowesov strip do sada.
• 
  Jon

  possibly a document of the teen angst delusions that go on in the mind of a serial killer who thinks he is a vigilante superhero, or maybe not. IDK.... its pretty funny in its honesty in some parts: the weird thoughts and actions and fantasies interspersed in the life of a teenager between pretend time childhood and harsh reality adulthood.
• 
  Senga

  
  KOCHAM KOCHAM KOCHAM
  
  „Miotacz śmierci” to komiks superbohaterski, ale zupełnie inny od wszystkich komiksów na ten temat.
  Przenosimy się do małego amerykańskiego miasteczka w latach 70 XXw. Miesza tam nastoletni Andy, wychowywany po śmierci rodziców przez dziadka, nad którym coraz bardziej władzę przejmuje alzheimer, nieakceptowany przez grupę rówieśników, w zasadzie niewidzialny, samotny, posiada jednego przyjaciela i korespondencyjną dziewczynę oddaloną o kilkaset kilometrów. Pewnego dnia jego kumpel Louis namawia go do wypalenia pierwszego w życiu papierosa. Okazuje się, że nikotyna wyzwala w nim niezwykłe siły, które mogą pomóc mu odmienić życie, nie tylko swoje. Moce to nie jego jedyne dziedzictwo, czeka na niego również potężna broń umożliwiająca rozwiązania ostateczne, czyli tytułowy „miotacz śmierci”. Jak chłopiec go użyje?
  
  Przyzwyczajeni jesteśmy do tego, że młody człowiek, kiedy odkrywa swoje supermoce, od razu staje się obrońcą ludzkości, bierze przeznaczenie na klatę, jest gotów natychmiast porzucić swoje życie aby wyplenić zło z tego świata. Ale czy w takim zwyczajnym świecie, ci zwyczajni ludzie, których mamy wokół, z ich małymi złymi postępkami zasługują na eksterminację? Czy tak łatwo jest użyć wobec nich swoich sił? Czy kiedy jest się zaangażowanym osobiście da się zachować obiektywizm? Czy można mieć supermoce i nie mieć powołania do ratowania całego świata? Jak zmieni się osoba, która zostanie zaskoczona ponadprzeciętnymi możliwościami?
  Daniel Clowes zadaje w swoim komiksie te, i wiele innych pytań, które najczęściej zawieszone są między kadrami. Jak zwykle prowokuje, komentuje świat i popkulturę jaką znamy, staje na bakier i zdejmuje kolejne maski rzeczywistości. Robi to w sposób genialny! Świetnie przemyślany scenariusz, zmiany czasu i perspektyw osoby opowiadającej, charakterysytyczne dla Clowesa poczucie humoru, pozwalają wykorzystać maksymalnie możliwości jakie daje komiksowe medium. Rysunki w stylu retro, utrzymane w stylu epoki, różnicowane barwą, jako dodatkowym środkiem wyrazu, utrzymane są w dobrze znanym, wyjątkowym stylu autora, jednocześnie fascynującym i bardzo klasycznym.
  Do tego piękne polskie wydanie, gruby papier i okładka, którą chciałabym oprawić i powiesić na ścianie.
  Dla mnie to komiks idealny ❤️
• 
  Jordan

  BAM! BOOM! KA-POW! SPOILERS??? MAYBE!
  
  Daniel Clowes takes on The Superhero. That is what this is.
  
  In The Death-Ray, he gives us the classic origin story (or at least his version of it), where we have present day, regular citizen, old Andy retelling the account of his life from discovering and understanding his new power, to dealing with the complications of it, to Clowes taking us all the way to the probable cause of his anti-hero’s ultimate death.
  
  Yeah, Andy's dad and mom were scientists who are now dead, and he now lives with his progressively sick grandpa. But of course! Although, where things begin to differ is how his dad injected baby Andy with an experimental hormone that’s triggered by nicotine (to help with his son’s inevitable teenage scrawniness since he himself was, too), however, he didn’t realize that the nicotine would have the tremendous effect it had on Andy. And when the cigarette’s nicotine in his system, it’s best described as “…the nausea only lasted for a few seconds before I could feel my veins filling with the boiling juice. It was like my entire body was a giant boner,” and it’s then that he has the power to punch the stupid blood out of some deserving prick’s stupid face. He also gets handed-down the death-ray; it's only capable of working under Andy’s fingertips, with one shot causing the unfortunate person on the receiving end to be wiped off this Earth. Completely vanished in the blink of an eye. Gone.
  
  But Andy was never interested in fighting crime and saving people from burning buildings with this gift of his. His sights aren’t set that high…they’re much, much lower. What he’s pondered all his life has been: “How does one man stand a chance against four billion assholes?” So, bullies, litterers, cheaters, you’re on watch! You’ve been warned!
  
  Like his other more recent work in Ice Haven, Wilson, and Mister Wonderful, Clowes plays with his panels in size, shape, and amount on each page, along with color palette schemes, and even employing different illustration styles in Death-Ray. It was a pretty quick story, one much bigger in scope than, say, Wilson or Mister Wonderful, and I would’ve liked to see him flesh it out more. You know, give me something thick in page count and colorful to geek out over --cause I totally would have. I did enjoy the ending, though, particularly his end-end, ‘Choose Your Own Adventure! How will our story end?? You decide!’. It was pretty cool; you are left with what is probably the bleakest and most depressing option to have ever lived, and I wouldn’t have expected it any other way, Mr. Clowes.
  
• 
  Alain Gutierrez

  A masterpiece. Daniel Clowes is one of THE greatest comic book writer, and artist, of our time.
• 
  D.M.

  I've been enjoy Clowes for quite a few years now, and his output seems to have increased in frequency and quality over the past decade or so. Unfortunately, my income hasn't kept up, so I've missed his last couple books. It was with great pleasure, then, that I found this one at my library!
  That Clowes has, after all this time, decided to do his own take on superpowers is surprising. He does it almost exactly how one would expect him to: the superpowers make bad people worse, and good people better, but everyone's life is still a mess.
  His style this outing is smoother than he sometimes is, and is clearly meant in at least small homage to the subject (many of the stories are told in smaller 'strip' form in the course of the larger narrative, and scenes occasionally lapse into fantasy-superherodom for panels at a time). For a strange story for Clowes to tackle (not that it would be any different from all the other strange stories he's done), his execution is perfect.
  This is one Clowes book I feel I could recommend to readers of any genre of comics.
• 
  Stuart Woolf

  I was pleasantly surprised by this book, in part because, for me, the work of Daniel Clowes generally falls into one of two categories: (1) very well written-and-illustrated coming-of-age stories (Ghost World, Wilson, Mr. Wonderful) or (2) surrealist fiction (Velvet Glove Cast in Iron, David Boring). This book is a little bit of both. Like most of Clowes work, it is quite thought-provoking, but what I like about this particular story is that its subject matter - superheroes and superpowers - are comic book staples, the kind of stuff that likely interested the author as a child and continues to interest a substantial portion of his fan base. My feeling is that the themes in this story come from a very deep place.
  
  4.5 stars. A close second-favorite to Ghost World.
• 
  Verevoof

  Daniel Clowes' The Death-Ray won multiple awards but I don't understand why. Perhaps I put too much faith in The I.T. Crowd's set designers, seeing Jim Woodring and Maakies items appearing on desks and walls along with a poster of The Death-Ray reminding me I should read it every time I queue up another episode. Don't get me wrong, Clowes is a great artist and knows how to arrange a page, but story-wise the book is lacking. Borrow it from the library like I did.
• 
  Jesús

  I’ve long since realized that most of Daniel Clowes’ work isn’t for me, and The Death-Ray is among my least favorite of Clowes’ adolescent-loser stories (or a story about a loser still stuck in his adolescence well into adulthood).
  
  There’s no “critique” underlying Clowes’ comics, just a lot of winks, nods, and self-indulgence. He’s been telling the same exact stories about the same exact characters for decades now. The only thing that sets The Death Ray apart from most of his other work is its lackluster art.
• 
  ComicNerdSam

  Beginning to think Pussey was a fluke. Clowes doesn't really seem like the guy for me. Don't get me wrong, this book is slick as fuck. The presentation is great and Clowes knows his way around a brush and ink. It's the writing that really grates me, this book has some great concepts and themes but it's hard to completely immerse myself in something that is so coldly self loathing. I don't know, maybe one day Clowes will click for me? But not today.
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  Carlos

  Había leído otras cosas de Clowes que, aunque estaban bien, no me habían acabado de fascinar. Con El rayo mortal ha sido distinto: la mejor historia de orígenes de un superhéroe que leo en mucho tiempo, y que utiliza la potencialidad de la viñeta para explorar distintas formas de narrar. Muy chulo.
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  Zach Anderson

  This is much better than the usual weird, off-the-wall non sequitur nightmare that is Clownes. There are still random cliff hangers, and sequences that appear to make zero sense. But there is a cohesivity that I hadn't picked up in prior Clownes stories.
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  Sammy Williams

  Wonderful dialogue and fantastic art propel this story of the choices made by a teenage boy that leave him a lonely and bitter man.