X-Factor doesn't seem to work in the usual story arcs - in fact, this story doesn't even have a title.  But we seem to have reached a natural break point, and I haven't given the book a full review since issue #1, so this seems as good a point as any.

Generally speaking, the book has been ticking along nicely.  The set-up, with X-Factor operating a detective agency out of what used to be Mutant Town, is actually being used properly.  Unlike any of the other X-books, characters in X-Factor are actually expressing an interest in why everyone's powers have disappeared and how to turn things back.  It's a relief to see at least one of the ongoing titles bothering to do the whole thing properly.  David's also managed to turn Layla Miller into an intriguing character, which seemed like a tall order when she first showed up in House of M.

Original artist Ryan Sook has already disappeared, leaving the title with a string of fill-in artists.  Dennis Calero has been roped in to draw the book up to issue #11, and while he's not Ryan Sook, he does have an appropriately shadowy style for the noir vibe David is trying for.  Colourist Jose Villarrubia also does effective work keeping the tone of the book intact.

I mention all this because, to be honest, this isn't a particularly great issue, and I just want to be quite clear that it's a blip.

Last month Siryn was beaten up and left for dead in the street.  This time, she's taken in by ex-mutant Dr Leery, who ties her up, rants at her, and generally does the madman routine until Rictor comes to rescue her.  To his credit, Leery is at least asking the obvious question that nobody else seems to have thought of yet: if the X-Men and their allies have all still got their powers, doesn't that mean they must be in on it somehow?  This is a good start, but nothing really comes of it.

I suspect I'd enjoy this issue more if I hadn't read Peter David's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #5, which featured a blatantly delusional woman convinced that Spider-Man has been stalking her.  That story goes perfectly well up until the closing pages, when Mary Jane Watson turns up to deliver a scathing monologue about how this character - clearly and unequivocally written as delusionally insane - is entirely to blame for her own condition because she damn well ought to pull herself together and try harder.  It's a speech which we're clearly invited to agree with, and frankly, the implied attitudes to mental illness border on neanderthal.

We're in worryingly similar territory here, with Leery portrayed as a weak and pathetic character who's only in this state because he lacks the strength to deal with his problems in any other way.  Once again, the obvious reading of the story is that he's mad, and yet somehow to blame for his own condition.  Given that he is actually a violent nutjob, and thus an unequivocal villain, I probably wouldn't bat an eyelid at it most of the time.  But coming on the heels of FNSM #5... ehh, I dunno.  It all makes me uncomfortable, and not in a good way.  Besides, on any view, Leery isn't a particularly convincing or well-rounded character; if he isn't a questionable stereotype, he's certainly a bit of a cliché.

Which is all a bit unfortunate, because it's generally a good little title.  And if I was reading this story in isolation I'd probably be a lot less sceptical.  I'll give it the benefit of the doubt for rating purposes, but between this and FNSM #5, I'm genuinely starting to wonder about Peter David's attitudes to the mentally ill.

Rating: B

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