My grandmother always used to say that 'If you have nothing nice to say, its better to say nothing at all.' Thus it is with the great doubt I tell you of my disheartening experience reading most all of Paul Chadwick's Concrete.
It was recomended to me by my very good friend Frank Miller, a man whom I since childhood have had the greatest respect for. But to be blunt: seldom have I found a 'comic' character to be as boring as Chadwicks Concrete.
Mr. Chadwick somewhere tells the story of the conception of his character; hiking in the mountains he meditates and feeling the oneness with the mountain, feeling the unmoving but still slowly moving nature of stone, feeling the patience of Gaius (the male aspect of Gaia - the earthmother) et cetera. A grand experience, I'm sure, but to write about a man who is a rock doth take more talent.