Is Mortimer Wheeler: Adventurer In Archaeology Worth Reading?

When I dive into the early days of American comics, Malcolm Wheeler-Nicholson always pops up as one of those scrappy pioneers who gave many artists a place to experiment. He founded National Allied Publications and launched titles like 'New Fun' (1935) and 'New Comics' (1936), and those books were staffed by a mix of newspaper strip cartoonists, pulp illustrators, and the fledgling comic-freelancers of the era. Some of the better-documented names connected to his early enterprise are Vin Sullivan (an editor-artist who later played a big role at what became DC), Sheldon Mayer (who created strips and later shepherded talent into the company), and the team of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, whose Superman became central once the company evolved. Beyond those marquee names, Wheeler-Nicholson’s pages saw work from freelancers coming out of studios like the Eisner & Iger shop, meaning people such as Will Eisner’s circle and other packagers indirectly fed art into his titles. Records from the mid-1930s can be spotty, so when I’m tracing credits I like to cross-reference original issue indicia, contemporary ads, and modern histories. If you’re curious, checking scans of the early issues of 'New Fun', 'New Comics', and early issues of 'Detective Comics' gives a pretty clear picture of who showed up in those formative pages.

In 'I Kissed Shara Wheeler', Shara's journey is a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected turns. She initially dates the charming and popular Smith Parker, but their relationship feels more like a performance than true love. The real spark ignites with Chloe Green, the smart, sarcastic rival who challenges Shara in ways no one else does. Their chemistry is electric, built on witty banter and mutual respect. By the end, Shara chooses Chloe, realizing love isn’t about fitting into expectations but embracing raw, authentic connection. The book beautifully portrays their growth—from adversaries to allies to something deeper. It’s a triumph of queer romance, showing how love can flourish when we dare to be ourselves. What makes their relationship stand out is its realism. They clash, they misunderstand each other, but they also listen and evolve. The ending isn’t just about getting together; it’s about choosing vulnerability over perfection. Casey McQuiston nails the messy, glorious chaos of first love, making Shara and Chloe’s pairing unforgettable.

I picked up 'Billie Sol: King of Texas Wheeler-Dealers' on a whim after hearing about its wild, almost unbelievable story. The book dives into the life of Billie Sol Estes, a Texas conman whose schemes were so audacious they became legendary. What struck me was how the author balances the sheer absurdity of his scams with a deeper look at the societal and political landscape that allowed them to flourish. It’s part true crime, part dark comedy, and part historical deep dive. The pacing keeps you hooked—just when you think Billie Sol’s antics can’t get more outrageous, they do. But what makes it worth reading is the way it reflects broader themes about ambition, greed, and the American Dream gone sideways. If you enjoy stories about larger-than-life characters who blur the line between villain and folk hero, this one’s a blast. I finished it with a mix of disbelief and a weird admiration for the sheer audacity of it all.

There's this electric buzz I get every time a new season of 'The Unwanted Undead Adventurer' is announced, and for season 2 I'm honestly bracing for some heavy, satisfying curveballs. My gut says the show will lean hard into identity twists: the protagonist's undead condition isn't just a cruel fate but tied to a larger conspiracy. Expect a reveal that the dungeon's necromantic energy is being manipulated by a human organization—someone in the city pulling strings for research or power. That flips the simple "monster vs human" setup into a nasty political game. On a more intimate level, I think we'll see relationships twist in ways that sting. Allies might be revealed as reluctant betrayers — not pure villains, but people whose choices force the undead hero to choose between survival and who they were as a human. There’s also room for memory-play: a lost memory turning out to be proof of prior complicity, or even a loved one's face haunting the protagonist in the dungeon. I can almost picture a scene where a trusted mentor reveals a secret tied to the protagonist's origin, and the hero has to reconcile gratitude with the truth. Finally, expect the tone to get darker but smarter. New floors of the dungeon could introduce communities—intelligent monsters, undead societies, maybe a mutant ecosystem with its own politics. That would let the series explore ethics (what makes a person human?) and deliver big set-piece betrayals and alliances. If season 2 follows that path, I’ll be watching late into the night with snacks and a notebook, because there’ll be a lot to unpack.

Picked up 'Pregnant and Gone, Return as Archaeology Icon' on a whim and got completely pulled into its weirdly comforting blend of second-chance drama and niche hobby enthusiasm. The core hook—someone losing their old life while pregnant and then reincarnating into a role tied to archaeology—sounds odd on paper, but the author leans into the emotional stakes surprisingly well. The protagonist isn't just chasing power; they're digging up literal and metaphorical relics of their past life, and that excavation motif becomes a neat throughline that ties plot, pacing, and theme together. What I love most is how the world-building supports the tone: the archaeological details, whether they're accurate or slightly romanticized, give the story texture. The cast around the lead ranges from quietly competent allies to delightfully flawed antagonists, which keeps things from feeling one-note. There are tender scenes that focus on memory and parenthood, and then more tactical chapters where reputation and reputation-management matter. Translation quality varies a little (some lines read clunkier than others), but the emotional beats land hard, so I personally kept reading past awkward phrasing. If you enjoy rebirth stories with a slower burn, some investigative flavor, and meaningful character work, this one has staying power for me — it's cozy and surprising in all the right ways.

The Groo Adventurer is this hilarious, chaotic comic series created by Sergio Aragonés and Mark Evanier. It follows Groo, a wandering barbarian who’s… well, let’s just say he’s not the brightest sword in the scabbard. The guy stumbles through one misadventure after another, leaving a trail of destruction wherever he goes. His reputation as a 'legendary warrior' is mostly a mix of misunderstandings and sheer dumb luck. The plot’s never super linear—it’s more like a series of satirical medieval escapades where Groo accidentally topples kingdoms, outsmarts nobody (including himself), and somehow survives despite his incompetence. The humor’s all in the absurdity, and the art’s packed with visual gags. It’s like if 'Conan the Barbarian' got rewritten by a clown. What really makes it fun is how the story pokes at fantasy tropes. Groo’s always getting into trouble because he misinterprets everything, and the people around him are either too scared or too stupid to stop him. There’s this running joke where everyone panics the second they hear his name, even though he’s mostly harmless (unless you count the collateral damage). The plots are simple—fetch quests gone wrong, mistaken identities, battles where Groo wins by tripping over his own feet—but the charm’s in the details. It’s a love letter to dumb heroes and the chaos they leave behind.

Museums have always fascinated me, especially those that dive deep into the roots of a city. Pointe-à-Callière in Montreal is one of those gems that feels like stepping into a time machine. From what I’ve gathered, it wasn’t founded by a single person but rather emerged from a collective effort to preserve Montreal’s rich archaeological heritage. The museum officially opened in 1992, but its origins trace back to the 1980s when excavations uncovered fascinating relics beneath the city. The site itself is historic—Pointe-à-Callière is where Montreal was founded in 1642! The local government and historians collaborated to turn this into a space where you can literally walk over glass floors and see layers of history beneath your feet. It’s incredible how they’ve woven together archaeology, architecture, and storytelling to make the past feel alive. Every time I visit, I’m struck by how much care went into creating a place that’s both educational and immersive. What’s even cooler is how the museum keeps evolving. They’ve added exhibits like the Pirates or Privateers? display, which tackles maritime history with a playful twist. It’s not just a static collection; it feels like a living conversation with Montreal’s past. I love how they balance scholarly rigor with accessibility—whether you’re a history buff or just curious, there’s something to grab your attention. The founders might not be household names, but their vision created a space where history isn’t just remembered; it’s experienced.

I got way too excited when the season 2 news dropped, so I followed every little tease — and what I picked up is more about how production ramped up than a single exact start date. Officially, studios typically unveil a second season with a teaser or announcement first, and then the real work (storyboards, character revisions, casting confirmations) kicks into gear. For 'The Unwanted Undead Adventurer', after the season 2 confirmation, pre-production seemed to pick up within weeks: staff and studio tweets, early character art, and teaser visuals started appearing, which is usually the clearest signal that production is underway. I tracked the sequence like a nerdy hobby: announcement → key visuals → cast/VA confirmations → teaser trailer. Each step was spaced out over a few months, so in practical terms I’d say production effectively began in the months following the season 2 announcement, with full animation work ramping up after key visuals and staff were locked. If you want a specific moment to point at, look for when the studio posted those early key visuals or when VAs mentioned recording dates — that’s when the heavy-lift production is visibly happening. For me, seeing animators’ work-in-progress clips on social feeds was the clincher — it felt real and not just hopeful PR.