Admittedly, the supernatural noir ain't exactly novel. (See this handy-dandy list, please.) But great storytelling doesn't run from traditions, but finds new ways to embrace the model, liven it up accordingly, and wring out new truths and insights.
And in the case of Calavera P.I., writer-artist Marco Finnegan has done just that to present the kind of spooky mystery we'd all run toward faster than Scooby-Doo with a whole box of Scooby Snacks. (Yes, Scooby-Doo is totes a supernatural noir; deal with it.)
Perhaps the most obvious decision that sets Calavera P.I. apart from the crowd is the Mexican-American influence and general scope. Finnegan didn't just decide to make our lead, Juan Calavera, a Chicano because it was convenient to have a deceased Latino detective be resurrected on Dia De Los Muertos. No, it's because as Finnegan himself explained in our recent interview, he wanted to set Calavera apart.
The aim was to highlight his uniqueness in the role of great P.I.s, and to use Mr. Calavera's "outsider status" as a way to comment on and explore the confines of noir. To examine how we view these charismatic lone wolf types, and what it means when they're all overwhelmingly white dudes. It's a way to add more layers to the story beyond just being a great mystery involving kidnapping, human trafficking, and a murder case from beyond the grave.
But the Chicano "vibes" go deeper still -- that cultural energy and overarching traditions inform so much of the book's overarching identity. That as much as Calavera P.I. wants to position identity as a central aspect of this story, the Chicano tradition is also a way to make this book feel more visually appealing and unlike so many other "competing" stories.
What we get, then, is a seedy and shadowy world that's emboldened with color and flourishes of sheer energy. The intro, especially, where Calavera fights off some goons, uses pops of overly bright colors and bits of cultural artifacts and similar guides to show that this is very much not the L.A. of a Raymond Chandler story. It's one we've (likely) never seen before, and where life and death seem to interplay in glorious fashion to help explain the ideas and values of the Chicago culture/people.
Even the architecture of this story is only familiar enough to fans of '30s/'40s SoCal noir (be it Ross Macdonald stories or The Maltese Falcon) -- it's a world far less glamorous but altogether more alive with history and rich cultural context. It's ultimately about balancing something we know with new ideas/energies, and allowing readers to explore that incongruity to see the value of these cultural benchmarks and how all of us are connected around storytelling traditions and a relationship with death.
Similarly, I think another key strength of this book is how it actually balances or approaches that larger "supernatural noir" model. Because in some key ways, Calavera P.I. feels like it's very much both things and still this more perfectly blended approach.
And by that I mean, this story lets both parts really excel and flourish on their own. The book is very much a proper crime story, and be it the plucky detective, the ever-present scourge of murder and robbery, and/or the overt grit to this story, it leans into that to transcend some of the supernatural underpinnings. And that's important: Calavera P.I. is just a solid example of the humanity, charm, and humor at the heart of these stories, and that universality, as it were, is key into getting this book into the right hands.
At the same time, the supernatural stuff is given its own time/space to exist. Sure, a lot of that's married to the crime stuff, and they're dependent on one another to make this more than your average crime story. But Finnegan uses the spooky stuff in a way (be it visually with coloring or exploring cultural artifacts like Dia De Los Muertos) that it feels perfectly suited. It never overwhelms the approachability of the noir stuff, nor does it let itself be consumed by the procedural nature of these mysteries.
What we get is just enough otherworldly energy to facilitate the crux of this story without disconnecting from this story's very street-level interest in exploring the people and politics of 1930s L.A. Everything coalesces and shines just as it should, and Calavera P.I. feels appropriately moody and textured for this considerate and deliberate melding of ideas and story approaches. The book feels exciting for making things feel new and novel but enthusiastically connects us to some larger tradition.
It's also worth noting that, beyond the Chicano influences, Calavera P.I. has another way in which it stands out: Maria Valdez. The reporter/colleague of Juan Calavera, Valdez is very much a deuteragonist (as Finnegan all but confirmed in our chat) -- she's right there with Calavera in the beginning trying to crack down on crime in her own way. And she's never regarded as just some love interest; that dynamic for the two is clearly hinted at, but it's never the defining structure for their relationship, and that's huge in making Valdez this robust figure. She's likely hugely important to the newly-resurrected Calavera's immersion, and I also think she's a major source of the book's social and political interests/dissections.
And while Maria and everything else about this book does help it stand out so early on, Calavera P.I. isn't without its own issues. I already fear that the story may be too boilerplate, or that it can't connect with these larger traditions in a perpetually meaningful way. (The human trafficking angle is interesting, but feels a little derivative and perhaps overly trite.) We've also only got four issues, and one of them's been eaten up "pre-resurrection," and that could harm the story's flow. (Even if said issue is still outlined with near-peak engagement and efficiency.)
But, generally speaking, these are minor enough issues for this book. Because Finnegan could've easily told another noir caper we've seen/read 100 times before. But by infusing elements we're not all familiar with, and doing so with precision and passion alike, he's allowed Calavera P.I. to already feel markedly unique.
Because, even amid all its layers, it's a story that speaks to something essential about justice, life and death, and how you really can't keep a good man down.