Not better. Blarf.
I mean, I can see why it's respected. The dialogue is razor sharp, the fourth-wall-breaking asides are brilliant, and Gabriel Bá does absolutely fantastic work with what appear to be two shades of green and that's all. Fraction's intelligence and sense of humor shine throughout the book.
But Casanova suffers terribly from plot diarrhea. It makes no narrative sense.
-One minute Ruby Seychelle is an insipid little sex robot, the next she's running black ops for the world's foremost spy agency. Where the hell did that come from?
-Cass shoots his sister Zephyr for murky reasons; a few pages later she rapes him(!) And a few pages after that they're besties, like nothing ever happened.
-A 26th century civilization masquerading as a band of primitive savages comes to Cass's rescue and he absolves them of a debt that they never incurred.
-The agency's second-in-command is cloned into an army of rampaging rapists, and then...nothing. They're just out there somewhere rampaging and raping and none of the characters seem to care. Or remember.
It's an endless chain of WTFs. I don't feel the need to use plot spoiler tags because there is no plot.
Casanova strikes me as the Frisky Dingo to Sex Criminals' Archer. It's the clever failure that led to the creation of something wonderful.
A cyclops barfs on a baby. A planet uses a psychic parasite to add visitors to its ecosystem. Alana learns to fly. Slave Girl gets a name.
Fifty years later, Scotland Yard's last homicide detective is tapped to solve the first murder of a vampire in decades.
Disappointing. The art lacks depth; there's virtually nothing to suggest light or shadow. It's all flat-looking figures occupying monochromatic panels. The dialogue is stilted and obvious, and the author keeps re-explaining terms like the reader is an idiot. At least it was quick.
Wow, is McIntosh ever hard on his hero. His grandfather dies of age, his wife is killed by lightning right in front of him, his twin sister drowns (and it's partially his fault), his hometown loses 600,000 people--including his two best friends--to a terrorist attack, he dies for 10 minutes in a car accident, and then he comes down with a bad case of possession. I think that was all before page 40. Positively Jobian.
The good stuff was pretty good. McIntosh does a nice job plotting a series of disasters, government responses, social reaction and evolution. A shoe-oriented spontaneous memorial felt right, as did a self-deputized army of God who went around murdering afflicted innocents in order to "exorcise demons." They subscribe to a kill-em-all-and-let-God-sort-em-out philosophy, which I've no doubt is exactly what would happen. The afterlifey stuff is sufficiently bizarre and creepy, dipping lightly into the Eastern mysticism bunk that most of us roll our eyes at. Very believable.
The bad stuff...eh. I have no real complaints. It just didn't break any real ground or blow my mind with its perspicacity. Hitchers is simply a good fun read, and somehow light in spite of all the tension and tragedy.
A girl discovers that she freezes time briefly whenever she orgasms. (Ha, how do you measure brevity when time has stopped? MIND BLOWN) Later as a young woman she meets a man who can do the same thing. They compare notes and histories and eventually join forces, using their odd ability to rob banks so that they can save her library...until the SEX POLICE track them down. [Sinister piano chord]
The intro was an amazing depiction of the scary, lonely hell that is adolescence. This girl does not know what is happening to her and her attempts to understand are stymied. Adults pollute answers with judgment, squeamishness, more judgment, incomplete information, bad information. Her mother calls her a whore just for asking about sex. Other kids give her answers for which she is not ready. There's so much TRUTH in this part of the story. It's rare that I find myself empathizing with, cheering on, feeling for a character to this extent.
The "Criminals" chapters are more straightforward...as straightforward as a time-freezing-orgasmic-bank-robbers plot can be anyway. They have sex in bank bathrooms. They rob said banks. The Sex Police hunt them. They run. It lacks the wonderful insight and commentary of the earlier stuff but it's well-constructed and well-drawn enough to be worthwhile on its own. We're also given the best graphic novel villain name of all time: Kegelface.
And I LOVE that the authors acknowledge some of the logical inconsistencies inherent in freezing time. Why can they smell? Aren't the molecules that they're sensing frozen in place? Why do some machines work and others don't? That stuff drives my inner science pedant nuts.
Complaint: The protagonist's time-stopping boyfriend takes the story a little too deep into Beavis-and-Butthead territory for my taste. While she refers to the sparkly timefreeze period as The Quiet, he calls it Cumworld. Once a day he rubs one out in the bathroom then craps in his boss's potted plant. Which, yeah, kind of funny but....ew. Coulda done without.