I first became a fan of Olivier Ledroit when I was a broke college student reading pirated comics. Low quality scans of his Pat Mills collab Requiem (an insane comic I totally endorse) lit my imagination on fire, and the artwork posted on theevilsnest.com had me looking at importation costs of the French editions. The way the comic was entirely painted, with a heavy sense of atmosphere and thematic color saturation, drew me in a manner comics rarely do.

My total lack of funds forced me to abandon the idea of importing the books, but I resolved to not actually read through the scans, because I knew their low quality would take some of the magic out of it. Shortly afterwards I forgot about it altogether.

A few years later I’m an independent working adult (blech) and I randomly discover Heavy Metal has printed two Requiem collections. I read ‘em and love ‘em. So I pick up every other Olivier Ledroit comic available in English: Sha, another Pat Mills collaboration published by Heavy Metal, and Xoco: The Obsidian Butterfly, the first of a four chapter series only available in a Heavy Metal Magazine back issue.

My desire to import his exclusively French work only increased. One in particular hung over me perilously: the self-titled Olivier Ledroit, an enormous 300-page hardcover artbook. Not much information about it exists aside from a French-language amazon.fr review. I held off on purchasing it for a long time, reasoning I’d be better off getting comics and looking at those instead of an art book filled with behind the scenes info I couldn’t read. But I eventually relented, took a chance, and was rewarded.

Olivier Ledroit is entirely dual-language, with the French and English written side by side. And it neatly covers every major project Ledroit has undertaken in mostly chronological order, beginning with his pioneering work on the dark fantasy comic Black Moon Chronicles (1989), and ending most recently with the ongoing Requiem series. Every chapter is underwritten with commentary by the people he worked with, as well as Ledroit’s own thoughts. And gorgeous full-page illustrations.

Short of having all of his work published in English, it’s perfection.

If you’re a fan of Requiem on a visceral level, I’d highly recommend this book. It provides a thorough look at Olivier Ledroit’s variedness and evolution as an artist, including all of his comics work (tons of which hasn’t been published in English), his covers for Phillip K. Dick novels, a chapter on bugs and fairies (an area he’s not well-known for, perhaps explaining the uncharacteristic cover of the book itself), and a bunch of other stuff, including various paintings.

I’m telling you about this book out of an odd sense of duty… I don’t know how many people who don’t speak French are even aware of its existence, or the fact it’s written in English. Ledroit’s personal website doesn’t mention it at all (and looks like it’s from 1995.) I haven’t seen it anywhere other than Amazon and sites that aggregate book information by ISBN number.

My approach towards reading comics began changing a few years ago. I can’t pinpoint exactly why it happened, and I could use inflated highfalutin language to describe it, but I’ll be honest with you: now more than ever I like to be immersed in fantastic art. I used to be in the habit of catching up–voraciously reading something, finishing it, and going on to the next thing. But as it turns out, reading comics is a lot like lovemaking. The most rewarding experiences are often the most leisurely.

The Monkey King takes its name and characters from the classical Chinese novel Journey to the West, a frequent source of inspiration in Asian pop culture. For example, Dragonball was originally based upon it. You probably knew that already.

Journey to the West is about a Buddhist priest’s quest to retrieve ancient scrolls from India, running into all sorts of demons and monsters along the way. He eventually allies with a powerful monkey and a hedonistic pig, as well as a man-eating demon and a god who takes the form of a horse.

Katsuya Terada is a Japanese artist whose imaginative work spans multiple mediums, including lush, full paintings, though he’s great with a pen and paper as well. Terada displays a merciless attention to detail which lends itself to things like book illustration and concept art, often for fantasy-themed video games. He’s also worked in the animation world, most recently on character designs for Blood: The Last Vampire.

Terada’s take on Journey consists of short bursts of story focused on the monkey god character, in what I can only imagine are heavily remixed accounts of the original text, ramping up the violence, gore, and sexuality. I mean, the original novel may have had masturbation jokes in it, but I’m guessing not. Terada even transforms the priest protagonist into a sexy nun, for deviant reasons I won’t spoil.

Each of his Monkey King chapters are unrelated to the other, and don’t seem to be assembled in any particular order. Their whimsical nature is reminiscent of Moebius’ work on Arzach, though perhaps with more visceral impact. Because Journey to the West is a famous story Japanese people absorb naturally, there are details Terada leaves out which may baffle Western readers, details which probably should have been given more mention in the book’s supplementary notes.

I’ll mention them succinctly as possible: the monkey king is ridiculously overpowered. He can shapeshift, clone himself, and has immense physical strength and speed. He wields a heavy staff that can become longer or shorter at will, and rides a cloud. Before he is recruited along the priest’s journey, the monkey is punished by the gods for his pride and left trapped under a mountain. He is controlled by the priest character using a metal band held around his head which is able to magically contract, causing pain.

Knowing these things will make your reading experience of Monkey King flow better, as the events fit along a loose timeline, but aren’t always presented in order.

Volume two continues the pattern set out in the first volume admirably. The same unpredictable sense of imagination is applied, and the narrative is just as impulsive, to seemingly fit whatever Terada feels like drawing, such as the story of how the monkey comes to own his magical staff. The book is filled to the brim with blood, violence and nudity, affectionately crafted in living color for your pleasure.

The plan seems to be that this manga will run for three volumes. But be warned: in Japan, there was actually a twelve year gap between volume one (1998) and volume two (2010). Remember what I said about the value of leisure in comics? I’d selfishly prefer if the artists themselves didn’t take it to heart.

Katsuya Terada’s The Monkey King Volume 2 hits stores April 18. Review copy provided by Dark Horse Comics.