Krakathoom Store

London, 1867. The East India Company is no more but its ghosts are far from silent. Mr Jones’s Smoking Bones #0 drags you into a fog-heavy city where a smoking skeleton stalks the remnants of empire and a drug-addled Indian detective channels rage and brilliance to chase secrets beyond life itself. Iqbal Ali crafts a world where occult horrors crash headlong into the brutal reality of colonial fallout, and every page feels like stepping through a shadowed portal that spits you out somewhere dark, dangerous and utterly addictive.

If gritty noir crime had a fraternal twin with weird fiction, Mr Jones’s Smoking Bones would be their unruly child. You’ll want this if you crave complex antiheroes tangled in political grime, if you’re fascinated by imperial histories rewritten with pulpy fire, or if your shelves groan under the weight of occult thrillers that don’t shy from brutality or nuance. Fans of Matt Smith’s Providence or Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie’s smartly subversive work will find themselves riveted here. Plus, anyone who appreciates a historical setting that goes beyond pretty costumes and tackles the bleeding wounds left by empire, will find this comic searingly relevant even now.

This comic is not just a story, it’s an experience. Iqbal Ali bends genre and style with fearlessness, delivering strange science fiction filtered through haunted Victorian streets and Indian mysticism, all in beautiful black and white. Paul Cornell’s praise of Ali as the new Alan Moore is no empty flattery: few newcomers unpack such intense atmosphere and raw emotion. At 188 pages, this is a heavyweight read that demands your attention and holds it like a vice. Don’t just browse past it today: Mr Jones’s Smoking Bones is a work that will change how you see graphic storytelling and the dark, complicated histories that shape us.