[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

iZombie is the story of Gwen Dylan, a zombie with a heart of gold. She doesn’t particularly like the fact that she’s undead, nor does she revel in having to eat a human brain every month. In fact, she says that the fleshy snack “tastes awful. Combine the two most horrible tastes you can imagine — like motor oil and someone else’s vomit — and you   won’t even come close to this level of nasty.” But Gwen chomps on brains as it prevents her from having a really bad hair day.

To atone for her less-than-delicious sins, Gwen solves crimes using the powers endowed to her. Specifically, every time that a brain is consumed, memories of the once-living individual are accessible. Since this is a comic book Gwen just so happens to eat the brains of people murdered in mysterious ways, thereby leading her on strange adventures!

In addition to Gwen, iZombie features a slew of supernatural characters. There’s Scott, the werewolf-computer-nerd who is pining for the pallid protagonist. There’s Ellie, the   ghost of a best friend who resides in the cemetery Gwen works at as a gravedigger. Nemia’s a man-hating vampire living in a virtual vamp sorority, encouraging her roommates to seduce men to their deaths. And the list goes on, including vampire hunters and maybe even an incarnation of the Invisible Man (or is he a mummy?!).

On paper, iZombie may just seem like another cash grab at one of the newest trends of fiction –   the saccharine supernatural. Yeah, we’ve had plenty of wannabe vampire-studs (this is a hunky vampire) and lighthearted romps through post-apocalyptic zombie-lands. So the territory is familiar. But in this instance, the comic succeeds more because of execution than the premise.

Through the course of the first two issues (okay, I admit it — I picked up the first issue of iZombie today as well) writer Chris Roberson manages to make the reader care about the characters and the conflict at hand. With concise exposition, Roberson expresses just how bummed out Gwen is about her whole not-alive-but-not-dead disposition. The reader feels for the first victim whose murder the protagonist investigates after reliving his final moments through memory. And humor runs abound, such as with the inclusion of Scott’s video game-lovin’ coworkers who just don’t understand why he never hangs out on full moons (DUH!).

Most important to iZombie’s success, however, is the stunning art of Mike Allred. I’m not going to waste your time with my half-accurate, feeble minded descriptions. Instead, I want you to feast your eyes:

iZombie was an impulse purchase, an attempt to make up for the fact that this was a relatively light week at the comics shop. But it paid off, and I was presented with a solid tale of horror supported by the authentic work of an enthralling artist. Buy this book.

I’ve been sick recently. Really sick. As in, “We’re sorry Mr. Krueger, but we have no fucking clue what’s wrong with you!” Guesswork in white coats? Perhaps. But I’d rather take my chances with the guesswork of our 2010 medicine men than try to fight this shit on the Oregon Trail. Huzzah for being born in the future!

With nothing to do but sit around and hope Joe Black doesn’t try to filch my soul, I’ve been watching far more television than normal. Most of it has been garbage, but I’ve caught a few gems here and there. One of the best things I’ve seen in the past few days has been Stephen King’s Silver Bullet.

The 1985 flick takes place in a yokel town in Maine (where else, Stephen King, where else?!) that just happens to come under werewolf-attack. Every month, some poor sap gets torn to shreds and the townsfolk chalk it up to a regular, human maniac. Then Corey Haim figures out what’s going on, but no one believes him because he’s in a wheelchair. Well, his Uncle Gary Busey believes him but he’s an alcoholic so you know how that goes. Seriously, if I had a nickel for every time a good monster hunt went sour because of a drunk relative, well, I’d have twenty cents.

This movie is pretty fucking sweet. It’s got werewolves, swear words, bloody mutilations, rocket-powered wheelchairs, John Locke, and an evil priest. It definitely feels like a ridiculous 1980’s flick and I should hope that you’ll enjoy it as such.