“Do you want to review Divided We Stand?” asked James. “Because it’s composed of several stand-alone X-Men stories, it should be quite easy to dip into.”

“Yeah, alright,” says I, little realising how hard it is to adequately cover a 40-page anthology issue within our customary review length. But what the hey. After all, as a casual X-reader (the sort who pays attention to little beyond the frontline team – Astonishing, Morrison’s run, the movies, the Fox cartoon, etc.), a selection of vignettes following various disparate former X-members across the world in the wake of Messiah Complex’s team-disbanding finale could be just the thing to give me a handle on the current status quo. Unfortunately… well, that’s not really what this is. Instead the focus is, for the most part, on the youngsters – New/Young X-Men cast members, so I’m told – left out to dry by Cyclops’ decision to close the mansion.

If you’re not already familiar with a character, it’s a bit difficult to really get a handle on them in an eight-page vignette, particularly when it’s thematic and contemplative (as these mostly are). As such, while there’s some lovely painted art from Sana Takeda (despite Storm looking far too young), I’ve no idea who the withdrawn young man in Home’s pages is – nor do I particularly care. Similarly, while I’ve a vague idea of who Cannonball is, I can’t bring myself to be hugely interested about him having a fight in a bar, in what might be the most “eh” story I’ve seen from the usually-dependable Mike Carey in quite some time. And when a youngster called Hellion attempts to “turn” to Magneto in his anger at the rejection of the X-Men, I can’t help but think of the movie version of Pyro – and it’s a segment that also features the only truly poor art of the issue, with Mags looking like a kindly and effete Oxford lecturer, and Emma Frost given the strangest-shaped face I’ve ever seen.

There are good points, though. Skottie Young manages to draw some poignancy from another character I was previously unaware of, in the closing panels of his story; and his scratchy, muted art, somewhat reminiscent of Chris Bachalo, suits the tone well. But it’s the closing story that – much as expected going into the book – delivers the real highlight. Everyone’s favourite hotshot rising writer Matt Fraction teams up with everyone’s favourite hotshot rising artist Jamie McKelvie to tell a story from a villain’s perspective. While Scalphunter is another character I don’t really know (aside from sharing a name with an old DC hero featured in Starman), enough about his situation is conveyed – murderous villain, involved in Messiah Complex somehow, Nightcrawler has a beef with him – that it’s possible to appreciate the meditation on shades-of-grey morality, even if the religious overtones are laid on a little thickly. It’s disconcerting, meanwhile, to see McKelvie’s art coloured and shaded in the “house” Marvel style – it comes off looking a bit like an issue of Mighty Avengers, if anything. But while this does strip away a little of his usual individuality, some of his biggest strengths – clarity of storytelling and range of character expression – are still allowed to shine, and his take on Kurt is excellent. It may only be a brief story with just one superhero in it, but he’s clearly comfortable in this environment – more, please.

It’s an “accessible” book to the extent that there’s a brief summary of Messiah Complex’s conclusion on the opening page, and none of the stories rely on any prior knowledge to really understand what’s happening on the page. But they’re character pieces, and in order to fully appreciate them, it feels like you’d have to know these people a bit better beforehand. There’s definitely stuff to enjoy – the Fraction/McKelvie vignette is almost worth the cover price alone – but it’s hardly an essential read, and even with my limited knowledge of the X-canon I can’t see it being hugely significant in the great scheme of things.