Minneapolis-based queer and trans cartoonist Archie Bongiovanni, whose prior works include The Quick and Easy Guide to They/Them Pronouns and the graphic novel Mimosa, wants to get across a visceral sense of living in the “in-between” in their comics. And they want to draw sex jokes. These goals come together in their newest graphic novel, Leo Rising, which draws on their upbringing up north in Alaska. This “clever,” per PW’s review, send up of friendships and identity politics offers a “lighthearted but sincere riff on the queer Gen Z zeitgeist [that] hits its mark.” Two queer 20-somethings in “Squarebanks,” Alaska, navigate the evolving nature of their friendship. Rachel wonders how much she will put up with to support her bestie, Laura, a rising internet influencer. Laura takes on a new identity online in the meantime, called Leo, risking backlash from a sizeable lesbian social media following.
Bongiovanni spoke with PW about growing pains in found family groups, the pitfalls and possibilities of social media, and dissecting owl pellets.
What was the inspiration behind Leo Rising?
Ten years ago, when I was first finding my footing in my local queer community, there were times when I felt like I didn't quite like fit in. I wanted to express those growing pains that come with finding out who you are, in a character that exists in the in-between-ness of identity, of sexuality, of feeling grounded and feeling unearthed—give reader that sense of displacement. I also always knew I wanted to have a comic that went back to my roots of growing up in Alaska—pay homage to its weirdness.
Laura/Leo’s online identities are this way for them to explore the multitudes that they contain as a person, but social media can also be problematic. What was your thinking about depicting the online realm?
Leo Rising was influenced by my time on TikTok in 2020 when there was a surge of an online community, because we were so isolated. The internet and apps can be useful and affirming, and they can also be narrowing and confining. Leo Rising was a place for me explore what happens if you create a found family online, and then you outgrow that found family. Part of the unique queer experience that is less depicted in media is that you have a coming out moment—and then what happens if things shift, and you have to come out again?
How did you go about creating the setting?
I had a job in high school and early college at the Alaska Bird Observatory that was exactly as depicted, dissecting owl pellets for a living in a very touristy town. It’s gone now, but I found old photos. Small towns are more exciting and expansive than they're given credit for—though, drinking is a big thing in Alaska, and I wanted to make sure that was depicted as a reality, which is why many scenes take place at a bar. But the characters realize just how much Squarebanks has to offer them if they get out of their comfort zones. Leo and Rachel have this codependent friendship. That's something that happens to a lot of queer friendships, especially when they're started young. You're so in love with each other, you've got each other's backs, but then what happens when the world becomes more expansive?
You’ve also published YA comics, including a history of the Stonewall Riots. But this is your second graphic novel geared towards adults. What does that range allow you?
I get to showcase how I see queer life, and not shy away from uncomfortable moments. The everyday-life aspect of queerness can oftentimes feel explicit if you're not a part of it. That's doubled for comics, because it is a visual medium. I've had projects be rejected before because someone has been like, “This feels inappropriate.” And I'm like, “I'm just drawing a picture of someone boiling dildos.”
That’s just good hygiene.
I also drew embarrassing moments, where the characters are fumbling, or unsure, based on memories that made me cringe. And when you cringe, you cringe because you recognize yourself—that’s something worth exploring.
