Helge Reumann is no stranger: in recent years, we have seen him attempt to corrupt our proud youth with some fine titles published in Rouergue ( Bagarre , Poursuite ); he will also have rubbed shoulders with the world of contemporary art, in the company of Xavier Robel within Elvis Studio, where they will together produce a number of giant posters and especially the essential Elvis Road ; then solo, he will offer Atrabile the opportunity to make his most beautiful and imposing book ( Black Medicine Book ). During all these years, he has never ceased to spread his talent within the very flower of (really) alternative publishing (United Dead Artist, the Last Scream) and in a few top magazines ( Kramers Ergot, Black bile ). H. Reumann is no stranger, then, but he has nevertheless become rare in the magnificent world of comics. All you had to do was be patient, and there he was with this incredible, and incomparable, SUV . In SUV , H. Reumann does not change course and always works on the same obsessions: urban violence and austere nature tamed by man, settling of scores with a tatane, and a generalized mistrust for all those who walk in step. There is a lot of madness, and humor, in SUV, but distilled in Reumann sauce, with a layout and a line as rigorous as it is beautiful, a deadpan side that knows how to wreak havoc, and a disturbing and strange atmosphere that has almost become a trademark.