Ugly stories of this country are rarely told—or perhaps no one likes to hear them. Overshadowed by the tales of the Civil War itself, was the aftermath, the Reconstruction. After the South licked its wounds, imagine the climate of the country: families torn apart, people were driven out to the west, slavery was abolished but that was not an overnight process, hell, civil rights didn’t come until the 1960’s. And the North was hungry for more land. This was as ugly as it gets and what better time period to set Vertigo’s latest monthly, Loveless, a series that lives up to its name because no love could be present in the life of outlaws and bandits—or could it?

Brian Azzarello and Marcelo Frusin bring the black tale of a soldier, Wes Cutter, who survived the Civil War, and comes back to his land only to find it taken by the North. He comes to also reunite with his wife and find a home amongst the homeless. Like in 100 Bullets, there are no good guys—just bad and worse. Azzarello wants us to see this tale through the eyes of outlaws, furthermore, outlaws from the South which will get readers emotionally involved instantaneously. It’s that ugly side that we want to turn our heads from. Azzarello excels in this world, placing us directly on the saddle, or in the crowded saloon hearing spurs and creaking boards and gets us interested in who Wes Cutter is and what he is all about.

The discourse between characters is as expected, true to the times. There are details slipped in that made me really think about life in that period. For example, the line, “…since I ain’t ever met a lady admit such a thing as a good birth.” I thought to myself what would have child labor been like without modern medicine? To another scene, I thought what it have been like to been a black soldier, fighting the South, under the North? Azzarello dances with the dialogue in his familiar way but allows the other half of the storytelling to take stage.

If you don’t know his work by now, acquaint yourself with Marcelo Frusin. Paired with Azzarello and Mike Carey, Frusin’s art brought visual terror on each page of his Hellblazer run. It was menacing, powerful, and perfectly ripe for Loveless.

For the first time we get to see his cover art and #1 will make you take a long pause before tearing to the inside, then again after you read “Continued.” His layouts read like Leone with open landscapes and lots of wide shots full of four or five characters. You’ll notice no unnecessary panel breaking or splash pages just 32 pages full of cold-blooded stares, the stink of sinister, fingers dancing above the holsters and around the triggers of Colts and Winchesters—just teeth-splitting tension!

I credited colorist Patricia Mulvihill on the art as well because she is as responsible for the art as Frusin. Could his artwork been left strictly black and white? Sure, but his art leaves space for Mulvihill to take it to another level. Look particularly at her colors in the night skies and the textures in the hats and clothes—you can almost taste the dust. Azzarelo likes to write efficiently, so without exposition, the color works in telling us how many days have passed, and what time of day it is, so Mulvihill colors Loveless beautifully, while responsibly. While Frusin allows you to visualize this story, Mulvihill allows your other senses fill in the holes to create this world.

This issue sets the table for the series but it has promise in becoming the best pure western Vertigo has published with some of their best talent producing a large-scale story that should hold interest for genre diehards. It taps the vein of Italian western films, and the harsh bite and bloodshed of the Reconstruction, turning it into something truly lovely.