Cantwell (Regarding the Matter of Oswald’s Body) digs into the mythology of superheroes, wrapping his investigation in a science-fiction skin and themes of hope and redemption. The script pits the physically and emotionally damaged Sam Brausam—formerly known as superhero the Blue Flame—against his family, friends, and future. Sam’s struggling to repair his life after a shooting that left him disabled and killed every other member of his superhero team, the Night Brigade. Now he’s forced to plead for the defense of the entire Earth in a galactic courtroom. If he can’t pull himself together and shake off his own self-destructive tendencies, not only will his pregnant sister and her fiancé be forced apart, but the entirety of humanity and the planet will be destroyed. Cantwell, cocreator of the TV series Halt and Catch Fire, develops strong characters and works them at a crackerjack pace, with a countdown clock insistently ticking (though a last-minute plot twist seems straight out of The Incredibles). Art by Gorham (the Jughead: The Hunger series) straddles the fantastic and the mundane with everyman-to-hero character design and imaginative cosmic scenery, enhanced by Kurt Michael Russell’s vivid coloring. It’s a thought-provoking saga that transcends the usual genre cliches. (May)

Reviewed on 03/24/2023 | Details & Permalink

This duo of vibrantly drawn stories situated in a far-out version of the 1960s features fairies who, after centuries of observing humans from woods and fields, get pulled by the lights and music into swinging London. The first piece, written by Gihef (Sirens of the Norse Sea) with musician Christian Lachenal and drawn by Alberto Zanon (The Green Girls), follows a rock-loving sprite named Anann who hitchhikes to London, declaring, “You have to admit that humans know how to party!” There, she faces anti-fae prejudice and a pair of hippie-hating serial killers, but also discovers love with a kindly human. In the second entry, written by Jul Maroh (Blue Is the Warmest Color) and drawn by Guilio Macaione (Alice: From Dream to Dream), Ailith, a reporter with a grudge against the magic realm, investigates a missing persons case connected to the fairy realm but falls for an androgynous fairy named Sidhe along the way. Despite the cheerful artwork and flower-power whimsy, this new series doesn’t shy away from darker themes, from violence and prejudice to black-market dealers in wing dust. Fans of urban fantasy will groove along. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 03/24/2023 | Details & Permalink

This overwrought weird western from Campbell (The Day the Klan Came to Town) attempts to deconstruct the many threats and slim opportunities afforded Black and Indigenous people in the Old West through the tale of the town of Refuge, a haven for persecuted Black Seminoles in Indian Territory (modern-day Oklahoma). War-weary sheriff Desi Leans and his straight-talking deputy, Gay Day, contend with the trouble brewing when Refuge’s opportunistic mayor promotes the town as a sanctuary for the displaced. A notorious band of former Buffalo Soldiers answer his call, but arrive loyal to a shady preacher named Prester John. Their vices run afoul of Gay and fellow townswomen including the saloon keeper and her resident working girls—who lend a supernatural twist to the third act. Themes of trauma (from war and slavery) run throughout, but the overall arc ends up predictable. Artist Netter effectively sketches a haggard cast, tested by the brutal West, but similar facial characteristics make it hard to distinguish among a packed cast. There’s gold buried in these storytelling conceits, but while entertaining, this venture doesn’t unearth much treasure. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 03/17/2023 | Details & Permalink

Surprisingly poignant given its flip title, Stringer’s sincere and witty debut memoir recounts her early 2000s decision to leave her small hometown in Australia to attend art school in big-city Brisbane. She hopes to become a professional cartoonist, but upon discovering she’s too late to enroll in the animation program, Stringer reluctantly opts to study visual arts, where she encounters a faculty and student body who amplify her self-doubt and anxiety about her chosen career path. Struggling with coursework she finds uninspiring and sparring with instructors (who are running out the clock in dilapidated facilities slated for demolition), she maintains her sanity trading zines and demo CDs with artist friends. Devotees of Dan Clowes’s beloved teenage dramadies will appreciate Stringer’s neurotic, angsty worldview as she tries to find her way in the adult world. Though this is most likely to strike a chord with actual past and present art school comrades, any reader who’s ever felt like a fish out of water will be drawn in by the irresistible loose cartoony art style and cheery color palette. This funny portrait of the artist as a young adult is a charmer. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 03/17/2023 | Details & Permalink

In Arre’s heartfelt sequel to the seminal Filipino graphic novel The Mythology Class, once close-knit friends have learned that heroism doesn’t necessarily end in glory. Two decades after their fantastic adventure as college students, they’ve crashed down in the mundane. Nicole, whose knowledge of Philippine folklore guided the group, is struggling to get her anthropological research taken seriously. Her husband, Kubin, a legendary warrior from another realm, is growing weaker while their daughter grows distant. Lane, the burgeoning psychic, has lost her clairvoyant powers. The spitfire Misha left the country, and her ex-fiancé has spent years tracking her down. All of the group struggle with recurring nightmares of the supernatural creatures they once battled, and with frustration about the rules that Nicole put in place about how to use the reward they won. When a new danger threatens, they must work together once again while also battling anger and mistrust. Arre sensitively depicts the disillusionment that comes when realities of work, grief, and failed relationships shatter youthful aspirations. But as the ensemble renew their faith in friendship and learn to protect rather than fight, they mend broken bonds. Arre’s artwork also has matured, with smooth lines and expressions that convey a wealth of emotion. This grown-up adventure ends on a cliffhanger, but even as readers await the next plot point, the interior journeys of the characters make this volume a fulfilling standalone read. Fans of Arre will certainly want to catch up with this class, and will cross fingers for a future volume. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 03/17/2023 | Details & Permalink

Comedian Bamford (of the streaming series Lady Dynamite) and her husband, artist Cassidy, sketch out their life together in a series of wry, pug-centric vignettes. The two met on OkCupid after being intrigued by each other’s bizarre screen names and discovered they had plenty in common—including histories of mental illness and “a lot of issues.” They also both loved dogs, and their menagerie, mostly comprising adopted pugs, soon dominates the narrative. Those pets (and, in one memorable installment, a dog bed) take turns narrating—Bamford’s and Cassidy’s engagement gets less space than the four-legged adventures, such as when Bert the pug burrows into a trash bag full of cupcakes. Cassidy has a knack for bringing the animals and their spaces to life; if the dogs are drawn with more care and personality than the human characters, that’s apropos. There are dips into absurdist comedy (one of the pugs attempts a stand-up act), but it’s not strictly a gag book, and though the co-creators have insights to share about living with mental illness and trauma, they don’t attempt deep revelations. Those fond of visiting friends mainly to pet dogs will enjoy this invitation into the Bamford-Cassidy crew’s day-to-day. (May)

Reviewed on 03/17/2023 | Details & Permalink

Married creators Hicks and Oosterhous pitch a playful chronicle of the romances and rivalries of a queer softball league. The star is Mickey Monsoon, nonbinary heartthrob and ace pitcher for the Belle City Broads. The Broads are all set to win the year’s tournament with their five-time MVP on the mound, but Mickey is thrown a curveball when their crush Astra Maxima, a licentious catcher with magical powers, joins the competition. Astra’s prowess as a player, both on the field and in the bedroom, proves hard to beat; off their game, Mickey resigns, until a secret squad is formed with the sole purpose of stopping Astra. Captaining that team is Wolfgang, a six-foot-plus German butch who dated Astra when the two of them were students at the same Swiss softball academy and is bent on her own lovelorn revenge. Oosterhous’s exuberant, confectionary artwork plays well off Hicks’s rakish script, with the duo changing it up between the madcap puerility of sports manga and unadulterated prurience of an Apatow romp to sometimes rousing—if occasionally cornball—effect. Fans of A League of Their Own should slide head-first into this series. (May)

Reviewed on 03/17/2023 | Details & Permalink

Haun (the Red Mother series) delivers a wickedly clever, if fragmented, collection of flash horror comics. Most of the tales are two or three pages, and often begin and end in medias res. In one piece, for example, a haunted protagonist catches a glimpse of a masked killer lingering outside, while in “The Arsenal,” a woman who’d previously been averse to guns starts stockpiling them; where she’s going with all the firepower or why is not made explicit. Haun’s brief evocations are a spine-tingling exercise, as readers must guess at the context and imagine their own worst nightmare scenario. Highlight piece “Hastur,” for instance, sees a guy leave his lover in bed after being beckoned by the call of someone—or something—else. For better or worse, Haun’s final panels often feel like punch lines. The black-and-white art is eerily mesmerizing and as desolate and detailed as a police sketch. Devotees and students of horror writing will be tantalized by what can feel like an R-rated spin on Chris Van Allsburg’s The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, but readers looking for fulsome storytelling will be left a bit cold. (May)

Reviewed on 03/10/2023 | Details & Permalink

While many of the elements in Schipper’s fantastical adventure debut may at first feel familiar, they are knitted together with a wholly original and baroque sensibility. Joe Bones, a gloomy yet reluctantly heroic paladin-undertaker, roams a landscape filled with awe-inspiring vistas and scenes of savage violence. After the massacre of a village, Joe is convinced to put aside his usual tasks (“following the birds, burying the bones”) so he can hunt down the perpetrators and rescue a kidnapped child who is destined for sacrifice. The road to justice is convoluted and discursive, as Joe banters with Bloo, his adorably tiny, big-eyed, and bookish Jiminy Cricket–like sidekick. The plot often goes murky and can be difficult to parse, but the depth of lore hinted at and the greater themes of servitude and rebellion suggest a potential franchise of grand design in the making. While Schipper’s dramatically pop gothic style is a clear homage to the high-drama gloom of Mike Mignola, the occasionally inscrutable quest narrative and ornately oracular language (“I hear the chains of evil coiling again”) feels closer to the work of Alejandro Jodorowsky. This is a work of crepuscular beauty with a narrative whose opacity only adds to the enchantment. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 03/10/2023 | Details & Permalink

Loewinsohn debuts with a sparse but astounding graphic memoir of her coming of age amid her mother’s mental illness. With little text, Briana recalls a childhood spent in the countryside and how her mother would disappear periodically, though she is uncertain if this “happened once or a thousand times.” With only a sullen sibling for company and rebuffed in her efforts to connect with her parent, Briana explores the natural world. As an adult, she turns her care and attention back to the land, hoping to return life to it. As she tends to the earth, she remarks how she has to “wait forever sometimes,” much like she did as a child longing for her mom. Shuttling between past and present, the narrator captures in chilling shorthand the unmoored, uncertain experience of living with a neglectful caregiver. The art deploys earth tones and figures reminiscent of 1930s animation, and Loewinsohn slightly alters expected panel layouts, with picture book–like two-page spreads, and colors in a blue-tinged past against brown, fertile present scenes. It’s delicate, taciturn almost, in her impressive restraint and use of images to grapple with emotions. This powerful yet meditative work heralds the arrival of a promising creator. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 03/10/2023 | Details & Permalink