After the breakout success of Alice In Sunderland, the concept behind Bryan Talbot’s latest OGN initially sounds like a step backwards. A high-hearted piece of anthropomorphic whimsy to follow such a metatextual triumph? It soon becomes apparent, however, that the creator has delivered a typically weighty proposition.

In what looks set to be the first in a series of adventures, DI Archie LeBrock of Scotland Yard persues the shadowy killers of a British diplomat into the capital of the French Empire, only to find anti-English prejudice hampering his investigation at every turn. He’s certainly a memorable lead, not least due to his being a seven-foot tall talking badger. Despite a Conan-Doyle style opening scene, LeBrock is a detective in the gumshoe mould, relying on a combination of biceps and machine-pistols to extricate himself from tight spots. Aided by his similarly-furry aide-de-camp, it becomes clear that the story is the key element of the title, rather than the steam punk setting or nature of the protagonists. That’s not to say that the presence of talking animals is a purely stylistic gimmick. LeBrock’s investigation sees him interacting with a vast number of creatures, and Talbot clearly delights in using their animal forms as a method of quickly sketching out personalities in a handful of panels. In the main, however, it’s the conspiratorial intrigue and geopolitics at the heart of the plot that keeps the reader enthralled. By the halfway mark, it’s easy to overlook the depiction of the people involved, with the tight scripting being the main focus.

The presence of an obvious parallel of the 9/11 terrorist attacks initially seems rather tasteless, being here attributed to the actions of English separatists who wished for their country’s independence from France, but it soon becomes clear that this is the main thrust of the work. Talbot has a very sharply-defined axe to grind, placing the plethora of conspiracy theories which have arisen over the attacks in the setting which clearly he feels they belong- an absurd Herge-style conspiracy thriller, in which the established church, police, media and political establishment have combined their forces to pull the wool over the eyes of a gullible public. What brings the parody to life is the creator’s clear affection for the form he uses to attack the anti-establishment claims. It’s a mystery why Herge’s name was absent from the list of inspirations at the start of the book, but the influence is clear. There’s a surprisingly heart-rending cameo from Snowy, and the way the plot unfolds is pure Tintin, admittedly with a terminator-esque Badger in place of the boy reporter. Grandville stands as a magnificent tour-de-force from one of the medium’s truly gifted creators.