Time & Perspective Quote by Garth Ennis

Ennis is pitching steadiness as a feature, not a limitation: a comic that buys you time. The sneaky trick in his phrasing is that he frames pace as hospitality. "Allows me time" is less about the reader lingering than the creator being granted room to breathe on the page, to let scenes sit and characters accrue weight through proximity. In a medium where plot twists and splash-page shocks can become a kind of nervous tic, Ennis points to "settling on it's characters" as a deliberate refusal to sprint.

The genre mash-up does a lot of quiet labor here. "Modern gothic western" isn’t just vibe; it’s a promise of a specific emotional temperature: dust and ruin, moral rot under open skies, comedy that arrives with a cough of graveyard air. Preacher works because it treats Americana and apocalypse like neighboring towns, and because its outrageousness is anchored in character rhythms - the way people talk, stall, backslide, make the same mistake twice. That "somehow" is telling: even Ennis sounds slightly impressed that the book can be so lurid and still feel unhurried.

"You're not likely to see the boat veering too far from that" reads like a wink at audience anxiety. Long-running comics train readers to expect reinventions, tonal pivots, corporate-course corrections. Ennis preemptively shrugs at that entire economy. The subtext is control: Preacher will keep its lane, keep its weather, keep its obsessions. If it shocks you, it won’t be because it lost itself.