This poignant graphic adaptation of Glass’s 2006 novel, drawn by Eisner-nominated cartoonist Dresen (Max & Lily), interweaves lesbian guitarist Nina’s recollections of her heartbreaking coming-out during her junior year of high school with later scenes of her band’s triumphant debut at CBGB. As a student at a Staten Island girls’ prep school “run by nuns” in the 1980s, Nina frequents the punk scene in the East Village on weekends, alongside her BFF—and fellow Love and Rockets fan—Kerry. Nina’s been pining for Samantha, the captain of her swim team, but despite flirtations and an intimate shoreside moment, Samantha ducks away from her advances. Over summer break, Nina and Kerry start dating boys, but Nina develops a crush on Kerry—who returns her affections. When they admit their feelings and kiss, it’s blissful, but kept secret. Nina’s dad thinks Kerry’s a bad influence, and calls her friends gay slurs and “lowlife street punks”; meanwhile, Nina’s worried about hurting her chances at the Naval Academy. As she uncovers her identity, she struggles to find her place, but the buoyant CBGB scenes lift the narrative with a through line of joy as an act of resistance. Dresen’s accessible art employs thick line work, with peppy character designs etched in shades of black and blue that emphasize the dreaminess and melancholy of first love. Fans of queer romance will appreciate the complicated nostalgia of this period piece. Agent: Lane Clarke, Ultra Literary. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/27/2026 | Details & Permalink

In her electrifying English-language debut, French Vietnamese artist de Narbonne trips through a psychedelic cyberpunk society. In a vast futuristic city called the Metastation, “junkyard dog” Gael Kaldera and his street punk friends rely on one another to survive. During a drug trip, Gael wanders away from the crew and into a hallucinatory journey that takes him to the Gap, an outcast community crowding in the city’s dump. He falls in love with dreadlocked Borisse, the closest thing the Gap has to a leader, who warns, “We are the trash they dream of purging.” Then Naomi, a runaway from the city’s upper class, arrives with news that the Gap is about to be destroyed. De Narbonne packs her pages with boldly inked black-and-white panels filled with techno music, brawlers, squatters, graffiti, and sci-fi settings ranging from the austere penthouses of the wealthy to a street market that looks like a Spirited Away bathhouse for burnouts. Though the novel trades in modern political concerns and social trappings—the characters go to raves and discuss manga—it feels like a welcome throwback to 1970s Metal Hurlant creators like Chantal Montellier, with visual flourishes reminiscent of contemporary alt-manga artists like Taiyō Matsumoto. De Narbonne’s classic underground sensibilities will delight outsider-art comics fans. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/27/2026 | Details & Permalink

The contributions of George Orwell’s wife, Eileen O’Shaughnessy Blair, get their due in this brisk and emotionally charged graphic novel based on her life from Chalupa (In the Shadow of Stalin) and Revel (Now Let Me Fly). Born in 1905, Eileen rallies against sexism as a university student and young poet, then runs a typist firm, improving a refugee scholar’s manuscripts on the sly. Her conventional, middle-class family bristles at her dating Eric Blair, a rakish, volatile author who publishes under the pen name George Orwell. Despite Blair’s flirtations with other women, the two wed (Eileen is shown objecting mid-ceremony to one vow: “I will not ‘obey’ ”) and almost immediately set out for the Spanish Civil War, where Eric gets injured. Traumatized and mourning “comrades arrested and killed,” they return to a disquieted existence on an English farm. There the plot of Animal Farm takes shape in a conversation between the two. The couple adopt a baby, then Eileen dies during a hysterectomy in 1945. Chalupa’s script emphasizes Eileen’s hot temper and Eric’s manipulative tendencies, while Revel’s jaunty character designs sport exaggerated, cartoony facial expressions (Eileen, for example, recalls a 1930s Hopey from Love and Rockets). This energetic portrait brings to vivid life a critical influence on the work of Orwell—and the personal costs of activism. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/27/2026 | Details & Permalink

Through intimate, neatly composed illustrated profiles of women and their companion animals, Willett (Women of Tarot) meditates on the mysteries of interspecies bonds. Her subjects include a psychic and her guinea pig, rock singers and horses, a witch who runs a bat rescue, an archaeologist caring for an Istanbul street kitten, and a woman whose formerly feral cat becomes a “petfluencer.” The women talk about how they connected to their pets (or, in a few cases, farm or wild animals), and how having a nonhuman in the family has changed their lives. Willett touches also on the history of domesticated animals and the role of women in the animal rights and environmental movements. Her background as a commercial illustrator shows in stylish layouts with textured backdrops; she contrasts appealingly posed portraits of her subjects with close-ups of such imagery as a horse’s long-lashed eye or a hand shaking a paw. Even skeptical readers will be won over by such candid revelations as when a blind artist, easing her guide dog into retirement, shares that “even without seeing London, I know exactly how beautiful she is.” Animal lovers will find plenty to relate to, whether they’re cohabitating with a rabbit, a rooster, or a rottweiler. Agent: Joan Brookbank, Joan Brookbank Projects. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/27/2026 | Details & Permalink

Marquez (the Uncanny X-Men series) kicks off an original fantasy series with this wildly imaginative twist on the trope of a young hero learning an arcane craft. The opening sets the tone: young Aida lies on her back in a crater, which she created while trying to defend her mom from attackers, uttering a (scribbled-out) curse word. Her frequent cussing contrasts with the sage counsel of Brother Alex Reilly, chief instructor at the Tower, a school for “understanding the gift,” where words have mystical power. Hopeless at her studies, Aida’s main goal is to escape the Tower to search for her mother. Marquez parcels out the lore, introducing readers to opposing institutions in a global network of magical schools, and sends Aida ping-ponging between conflicting fealties. The first volume follows this spunky heroine through a mystical power struggle, and builds to a climax where she must furiously select and direct her own destiny. Whether she makes the right choice remains to be seen, but it’s an exciting opening gambit. Marquez’s artwork mixes realistic character designs with wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions that are exaggerated for effect. Colorist Marissa Louise (Black Manta) imbues the proceedings with blasts of bright energy and subtle woodland tones. Fantasy readers ready to graduate from Hogwarts and Narnia can apply for a more grown-up fandom here. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 02/20/2026 | Details & Permalink

In this soft-spoken fable from Ignatz-nominated cartoonist Muradov (Vanishing Act), the afterlife looks suspiciously everyday. An opening sequence set in a quasi-purgatory introduces the premise of a lottery (like bingo, but mandatory) for a return to life. The unnamed young woman who wins doesn’t actually want to go back, but the matter isn’t up for discussion. She’s returned to the lonely apartment, indifferent commuter crowds, and uninspiring job she’d left behind, with one added wrinkle: she now shares her apartment with her own ghost (“I guess I did die for a bit”). The pair settle into a cozy domestic routine—evening meals of soup, reading—and a fondness develops. Outside the apartment, the woman discovers ghosts everywhere, finding kinship in their shared isolation. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived a continuous past tense,” she confesses to one, who responds, “If I were you, I’d do a bit more living.” Muradov’s minimalist illustrations underpin the story’s minor-key modernism with diaphanous pencil strokes and muted tones, echoing the work of Øyvind Torseter and Ludwig Bemelmans. Gradually, the clever story of a woman haunted by herself gives way to a subtle meditation on inhabiting loneliness—and perhaps sharing it. Fans of the melancholic whimsy of Kore-eda, Ali Smith, and Tove Jansson will be pleased. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 02/20/2026 | Details & Permalink

Coin-Op comics’ Hoey siblings (In Perpetuity) serve up an unsettling postmodern espionage thriller with undertones of Hitchcockian suspense and Kafkaesque absurdity. In an unnamed city reminiscent of Cold War–era Eastern Europe, Nadia, a drama student, is enlisted by one of many warring political factions to spy on another. She’s trained to pose as an unassuming cafe waitress named Miriam and serve coffee to a man called O’Brien—the dialogue acknowledges the reference to Orwell’s 1984—from a bugged samovar. Nadia draws on the acting technique developed by her late father, a drama scholar and author of “The Methodology of Disappearing” who advised, “Leave no trace of yourself; only the role will remain.” As Nadia pries into the past of the woman she’s portraying, she begins to transform into Miriam, her performance becoming too complete. The style is typical of the Hoeys: crisp, diagrammatic, and strongly influenced by Chris Ware. The geometric layouts seem to observe Nadia dispassionately, much like the surveillance state, and the flat color and doll-like figures give her world an artificial, staged look. Despite these distancing effects, a sense of paranoia is palpable—disappearances and deaths fill daily life, strangers seem inexplicably hostile, and spotlights appear out of nowhere. Crafted with mousetrap precision, this claustrophobic tale of identity and performance haunts. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/20/2026 | Details & Permalink

German artist Kuhlendahl’s graceful debut adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s 1928 novel illuminates its insight that “often it is only the clothes that keep the male or female likeness.” Kuhlendahl depicts Woolf at her desk creating her hero(ine), who starts out as a young Elizabethan nobleman. Over the course of centuries, Orlando ages at a glacial pace, as do England’s opinions on gender roles. After living in Constantinople as an ambassador and getting married, he slips into a “trance“ and awakens as a woman. At first Orlando lives as an androgynous “gypsy,” but upon returning to Queen Anne’s England, she realizes the “penalties and privileges of womanhood,” noting that “nothing is more heavenly than to resist and to yield” to her suitors. Kuhlendahl’s whimsical drawings offer gently progressive touches, such as when Orlando is serenaded by a trio of trumpeters drawn as ranging from femme to butch. Kuhlendahl depicts Orlando nude with female body parts, but the character’s primary concern is not with those new parts, but rather how a dress impacts her reception, compared to breeches and a tricornered hat. Ultimately, Orlando is most free when toggling between genders—both how she presents and whom she loves. It’s a fittingly innovative and playful take on the original. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 02/20/2026 | Details & Permalink

The non-player characters in a role-playing world strike back against the heroes in this clever, raunchy, and self-aware send-up of isekai portal fantasy from Sayman (The Voynich Hotel). Two sardonic young women, Aine and Nacht, are unceremoniously crushed by a falling satellite and reborn as custodial staff in a labyrinthine fantasy dungeon world. They befriend the resident monsters and grow to hate the adventuring parties that barge in and create messes for them to clean up. To discourage such incursions, they attempt everything in their power to make dungeon-crawling an unpleasant experience. Soon, heroes warn one another against the destination and its “certain malevolence, like it’s driven to kill.” The story revels in the tropes of RPGs: Aine and Nacht die over and over but always come back to life in their staff quarters, meet ridiculous versions of seemingly every creature in the D&D Monster Manual (the kobolds that look like pugs are particularly appealing), and endure a socially awkward run-in with a hero from their original world. The humor pushes the envelope into adult territory, with cartoon gore and jokes about the girls snorting powdered mandrake (“Yeah, that’s primo shit”) and fishing for a shark-man with used menstrual pads. Sayman’s simple, angular artwork stands out, particularly the leads’ hilariously deadpan expressions. Rife with nerdy pop-culture references, this is catnip for otaku and fantasy devotees. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 02/13/2026 | Details & Permalink

Heyum and Winter’s sturdy manhua debut, which adapts an online light novel by G.M., offers a simple but relatable fantasy: appreciation for a job well done. Pollyanna, the unwanted daughter of a minor noble family, is sent to die in a war, but she refuses to play into her own sacrifice and throws herself into military training. “Survive, no matter what,” her gruff, bearded mentor instructs her, because “that’s the best revenge you can get on your parents.” Pollyanna’s superiors don’t appreciate her fighting skills or her genius for strategy, but Luxos I, the ambitious young king of rival country Acrea, becomes curious about the soldier who’s been predicting his moves. After he convinces Pollyanna to defect to his side, they set out together to defeat all rival forces and unite the continent. With this intriguing setup established, the opening volume settles into formulaic RPG-style plotting, as Pollyanna works her way up through the ranks, racks up experience, and overcomes the skepticism and sexism of her new comrades. The brightly colored artwork is more efficient than elegant, but that’s appropriate for a rational, no-nonsense heroine who eschews luxuries. Pollyanna’s butch-styled character design nicely contrast to King Luxos’s golden-haired bishōnen prettiness. Though this offers few surprises, it’s comforting fare for romantasy fans. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 02/13/2026 | Details & Permalink