Brushing off the ashes of her old life, Athena Lo is off to find the mysteries of the past and her family in the second volume of Carmilla: The Last VBrushing off the ashes of her old life, Athena Lo is off to find the mysteries of the past and her family in the second volume of Carmilla: The Last Vampire Hunter from creative team Amy Chu and Soo Lee. Set immediately after the fallout of the first volume, Athena leads us on a quest through Asian monster lore for a fast-paced and thrilling little ride inspired by Sheridan Le Fanu’s classic novel Carmilla. While the fast-pace is fun it does move at such a quick clip as to feel rushed, but the artwork is delightful and it makes for a rather charming queer story and makes for a rather unique addition to the robust world of vampires with the focus on Chinese mythology. Plus, who doesn’t want to see some weird and wild monsters?
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This second volume continues the story in a fairly exciting way, though I did miss the Carmilla aspects of the first one that tied it in to the original tale. We are off on our own original story here though and it is quite fascinating. Things happen rather quickly and nothing really has the chance to sink in, though the love story is really cute and it does have a rather upbeat and satisfying conclusion. Soo Lee’s artwork is incredible here as well:
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Carmilla: The Last Vampire Hunter has been a great little series and while I wasn’t blown away I will certainly be back for more.
Mystery, magic and mayhem lurk in the hills just beyond Agatha’s quaint little village but when she dreams for something greater the wishes might justMystery, magic and mayhem lurk in the hills just beyond Agatha’s quaint little village but when she dreams for something greater the wishes might just be granted in ways she never expected. The Pale Queen from author and illustrator Ethan M. Aldridge is a delightful young YA graphic novel of fae foolery and budding sapphic romance brought to life in stunning watercolor artwork that captures both the beauty and the beastly. Heartwarming with plenty of darkness lurking about this tale of following your heart in pursuit of your dreams instead of letting others do it for you, this was such a cute read that manages to balance being a rather quick read with plenty going on without feeling too rushed. So if you are like Agatha and I and also can’t resist seeing what the fae are up to, The Pale Queen is a perfectly fun read for you!
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Agatha wants more that this provincial life of tutoring and avoiding the constant, aggressive flirtation demands of Claude which makes this sound like the start of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, but the beast central to this tale is far more interested in domineering than showing Agatha an amazing personal library. Alas. Luckily we have Heather visiting from University who’s constant literary quotations, insistence of upending the male canon with her feminist critiques, and generally pleasant ways make her the dream of escape Agatha has been looking for (LIFE ADVICE NOTE: when caught between potential romantic entanglements, the one who will give you a personal library tends to be the correct choice according to these stories). But Agatha cannot afford to go to the Academy and the lady of the hills is alluring with her promise of magic…
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This is such a cute story as we watch Agatha caught up in the balancing of favors between her and the mysterious hill woman, all enacted under a vagueness that arrives with growing dread. It’s a fun tale with plenty of magic folk, bad deal making and danger that is sure to charm, plus some great themes on how aggression and jealousy are often toxic and to be avoided. Also watch out for trolls.
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Short, sweetly sapphic and altogether satisfying, The Pale Queen is an utter delight of a graphic novel and fantasy tale. Plus the artwork is so lovely. Also a big thank you to hope for recommending it and putting it directly into my hands saying it was a must read. Indeed, a winner for sure.
While we are often frightened of ghosts, the specters of the dead can sometimes feel less harsh than the sufferin‘It was us against the world, right?’
While we are often frightened of ghosts, the specters of the dead can sometimes feel less harsh than the suffering of the living. Especially when the person closest to you has tragically passed into their realm. Lee Mandelo’s moving short story, The Pigeon Summer, delivers a haunting of both ghosts and grief as J. is choked with a sorrow of ‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to be’ after the possible suicide of C., shattering the belief that the beloved C. ‘would be there to the end, no matter bodies or pronouns or the harshness of strangers.’ Left behind, J is perhaps not alone, with pigeons and a potential phantom moving about hir room. While the story dives into the deep and dark caverns of loss and the tormented loneliness of non-conforming people in a judgemental and homophobic world, Mandelo manages to bring a sort of relief like a ray of sun after a storm or the calm after a good cry while creating an eerie mystery to add a rather charming texture to it all. A tale of grief yet also a tale to show that even in the darkest hours a reason to live might still bloom where you least expect it, The Pigeon Summer hits with a broad spectrum of emotional resonance.
‘The question isn’t necessarily if I want to live. It’s whether or not I can.’
For a quick story, Mandelo packs in a lot of heart. I was rather endeared to the non-binary representation here—J. has si/hir pronouns—being non-binary myself and was interested in the ways Mandelo touches on the stresses of expected performance in society or relationships that can be a lot to navigate and often collide against misunderstandings on what that even means, or worse, hostility. The inclusion of non-binary pronouns without calling attention to it was nicely done as well, because it reminds us that it is normal and isn’t actually difficult to do compared to expecting people to adapt to being pointlessly and inaccurately gendered as some weird performance. C. was the first person J. could feel understood with, the first person who could deal, and they formed a closeness that went beyond a need for labels. In his absence ‘there’s nobody left to tell me how much I have to live for.’ Which is pure tragedy. Grief pours out of Mandelo’s rather robust and poetically pleasing prose, tracing the space of absence and the aches that emit from it as well as the scraps of past we cling to in these moments. Hir phone, for instance, becomes a place to revisit photos but also the painful vacancy of hir unanswered final text. I really enjoy Mandelo’s description of the phone, however, as a‘a fragile slip of circuits and plastic, a box of memories.’
The ghostly aspects are a nice touch as well, with J. often wondering if ‘I might be haunting you,’ instead of hir ghostly visitor haunting hir and I enjoyed the way J. writes letters to the ghost which become a method for channeling grief and giving it shape through the strokes of a pen.
‘It felt as if the ink had crawled up from hir guts and ripped free onto the page, splattered there in a horror show of anger and need and pain. This was what it was like, in words—insufficient, flat, a belly-shaking cry distilled into a page of symbols. This was what it was like to yank at the edges of the gash and look at the insides.’
Though through all the sadness and introspection, Mandelo ultimately points us back outwards towards the world and how even when we think we have nothing to give, something small (like a pigeon perhaps) can still be a monumental moment. To help or save another’s life, even in a small way, might show us that the life we save might just be our own.
The Pigeon Summer moves through grief towards acceptance and from the inability to carry such burdens towards action and new beginnings in only a few short pages that will linger long past their length. I’ve come to quite like Mandelo and will certainly check out one of their novels now, though I recommend any of their short stories too.
3.5/5
Merged review:
‘It was us against the world, right?’
While we are often frightened of ghosts, the specters of the dead can sometimes feel less harsh than the suffering of the living. Especially when the person closest to you has tragically passed into their realm. Lee Mandelo’s moving short story, The Pigeon Summer, delivers a haunting of both ghosts and grief as J. is choked with a sorrow of ‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to be’ after the possible suicide of C., shattering the belief that the beloved C. ‘would be there to the end, no matter bodies or pronouns or the harshness of strangers.’ Left behind, J is perhaps not alone, with pigeons and a potential phantom moving about hir room. While the story dives into the deep and dark caverns of loss and the tormented loneliness of non-conforming people in a judgemental and homophobic world, Mandelo manages to bring a sort of relief like a ray of sun after a storm or the calm after a good cry while creating an eerie mystery to add a rather charming texture to it all. A tale of grief yet also a tale to show that even in the darkest hours a reason to live might still bloom where you least expect it, The Pigeon Summer hits with a broad spectrum of emotional resonance.
‘The question isn’t necessarily if I want to live. It’s whether or not I can.’
For a quick story, Mandelo packs in a lot of heart. I was rather endeared to the non-binary representation here—J. has si/hir pronouns—being non-binary myself and was interested in the ways Mandelo touches on the stresses of expected performance in society or relationships that can be a lot to navigate and often collide against misunderstandings on what that even means, or worse, hostility. The inclusion of non-binary pronouns without calling attention to it was nicely done as well, because it reminds us that it is normal and isn’t actually difficult to do compared to expecting people to adapt to being pointlessly and inaccurately gendered as some weird performance. C. was the first person J. could feel understood with, the first person who could deal, and they formed a closeness that went beyond a need for labels. In his absence ‘there’s nobody left to tell me how much I have to live for.’ Which is pure tragedy. Grief pours out of Mandelo’s rather robust and poetically pleasing prose, tracing the space of absence and the aches that emit from it as well as the scraps of past we cling to in these moments. Hir phone, for instance, becomes a place to revisit photos but also the painful vacancy of hir unanswered final text. I really enjoy Mandelo’s description of the phone, however, as a‘a fragile slip of circuits and plastic, a box of memories.’
The ghostly aspects are a nice touch as well, with J. often wondering if ‘I might be haunting you,’ instead of hir ghostly visitor haunting hir and I enjoyed the way J. writes letters to the ghost which become a method for channeling grief and giving it shape through the strokes of a pen.
‘It felt as if the ink had crawled up from hir guts and ripped free onto the page, splattered there in a horror show of anger and need and pain. This was what it was like, in words—insufficient, flat, a belly-shaking cry distilled into a page of symbols. This was what it was like to yank at the edges of the gash and look at the insides.’
Though through all the sadness and introspection, Mandelo ultimately points us back outwards towards the world and how even when we think we have nothing to give, something small (like a pigeon perhaps) can still be a monumental moment. To help or save another’s life, even in a small way, might show us that the life we save might just be our own.
The Pigeon Summer moves through grief towards acceptance and from the inability to carry such burdens towards action and new beginnings in only a few short pages that will linger long past their length. I’ve come to quite like Mandelo and will certainly check out one of their novels now, though I recommend any of their short stories too.
Could you survive on your own in the forest? I’d like to think I could, but let’s be real, I am a big fan of running water and having other people aroCould you survive on your own in the forest? I’d like to think I could, but let’s be real, I am a big fan of running water and having other people around when I want them to be. But for Ash, life in the wild might be the best chance to truly embrace who they are and prove to themselves that they are valid. A trans coming-of-age tale amidst wilderness survival while chasing your roots drives the moving plot of Jen Wang’s gorgeously illustrated Ash’s Cabin. Frustrated by familial resistance to their new name and identity and a lack of agency to protect the planet in the face of procedures and apathy, Ash is entrusted to skip a family trip to say goodbye to their vacation cabin as long as they have the family dog and cousin with them. But deep in the woods might be a long lost cabin their grandfather would escape to and Ash plans to call it home. Heartfelt and brought to life through mesmerizing watercolor art, Ash’s Cabin is a riveting graphic novel of wilderness, family and identity exploration.
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Having been a huge fan of The Prince and the Dressmaker, I knew I needed to read this. This one hits hard and is full of a lot of creative and unique storytelling. I loved the way this is written much like a graphic memoir, existing as Ash’s diary full of his thoughts and plans that seamlessly seeps into an outer perspective of storytelling. I really loved all the overhead art of their organization and plans that nudged some real Wes Anderson vibes:
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This book makes you really feel for Ash, who is bravely taking first steps into a trans identity and feels very alone in the world. The use of blacked out words in the dialogue that imply when a character would deadname them was a well crafted technique that shows the carelessness of others but also how jarring it is for Ash. Though at least we have Chase, the amazing dog companion, to keep Ash secure:
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I also really liked the juxtaposition of Ash with the grandfather, both feeling a bit lost and misunderstood in the world and looking for a quiet corner to call their own. Ash’s adventure really keeps the plot moving, surviving the elements and the threat of wild animals while dodging the helicopters always looking for them. Then there is the cabin that requires a LOT of work to fix up:
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There is a really cool survival element to this one that reminded me a lot of why I enjoyed books like Gary Paulson’s Hatchet as a kid. Moving and gorgeously illustrated, Ash’s Cabin is a lovely little book for of hardship, heart, and the determination to make one’s own way in a world that resists them. A marvelous little read and a perfect one to have kept me company while camping this past weekend.
Opposites attract in this queer coming of age YA graphic novel, written and gorgeously illustrated by Sunmi. Firebird interlaces the lives of girls, tOpposites attract in this queer coming of age YA graphic novel, written and gorgeously illustrated by Sunmi. Firebird interlaces the lives of girls, the reserved sophomore Caroline who is already prepping for college, and the outgoing senior, Kim, who are brought together when Caroline begins tutoring algebra. Disoriented by Kim’s teasing and disheveled ways, Caroline can’t stop thinking about her…but is she frustrated or is she flustered?
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Character driven and full of a wide variety of nuanced issues from fraught family life, friendship dynamics, anxieties, queer questioning, and identity as a second generation Korean immigrant, Firebird does well to balance a lot of introspective elements that make for a slow but cozy pacing. Moving and cute but with a bit of a misfire of an ending, this was a fun read that plays on some rather lovely tropes in interesting ways. The illustrations are fantastic here and while I was initially a bit disappointed it was only black and white with some clever use of red unlike the full color cover, I ended up REALLY loving the style. It looks like the sort of thing that you would doodle in your notebook in class…well, that is if I was actually good at doodling:
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I enjoyed the use of red to denote times of emotional discomfort, be it anxieties or a flood of painful memories, and the book spends some time deep diving into each of the character’s respective personal lives to show how their private life informs upon their personalities in their public lives.
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Both girls are Korean immigrants each with various family dynamic struggles, such as Caroline grappling with the absence of her father living back in Korea or Kim who tends to be parentified and takes a lot onto her plate. While Kim seems cool and collected, she too has a lot of anxieties and complex emotions to work through, something that is surprising to Caroline who feels like she is often spiraling in her issues of family, identity and body image. The way the two come closer, with Caroline stressing about having feelings for another girl the whole way, is rather adorable and its shown how empathy and reassuring one another without belittling anxieties can help love blossom and be a very healthy and helpful way to care for each other. There are some really touching moments of sharing and intimacy, like allowing Kim to cut her hair, though this sparks a large fight between Caroline and her mother over having short hair and the mother’s concern about Caroline not being properly feminine presenting. Though there is something moving about how Caroline realizes the way she expresses herself as a person when around Kim is the “her” she feels is the best representation of herself.
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Firebird has a lot of good things going for it and I really love the dynamic of the awkward girl and popular girl falling for each other and realizing that once the social labels and expectations are swept aside, they aren’t all that different and Caroline might just be what Kim wants and needs. Unfortunately the end sort of tumbles out and will make you wonder if you might be missing some pages. I was reminded a bit of the graphic novel If You’ll Have Me which I really enjoyed and had a similar relationship dynamic, so fans of this should definitely check that out as well. Cute but a bit clunky, I still quite enjoyed Firebird and I hope you will too.
3.5/5
‘I don’t want to be defined by those relationships anymore. I don’t want to be defined by absence, by my fears, resentment, regrets… I want to be someone new. I want to feel openly and passionately like the firebird.’
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‘In the beginning was the world… [image] And it was WEIRD’
And you know what? It sure as shit was! Behold Isabel Greenberg’s The One Hundred Nights of He‘In the beginning was the world… [image] And it was WEIRD’
And you know what? It sure as shit was! Behold Isabel Greenberg’s The One Hundred Nights of Hero in which the powerful love between two women, Cherry and the aptly named Hero, must outwit and outlast the burdensome onslaught of mens conquests for Cherry’s ‘virtue’ in this tale of tales and the importance of telling them. Especially when lives are at stake in this patriarchal world of bird gods and dastardly deeds. I mentioned the world was weird right???
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Weird but also whimsical and wonderfully illustrated. I love the style here.
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So anyways, Greenberg has crafted a graphic novel that is as gorgeous to look at as it is insightful and outspoken on the social ills against women and the nature of storytelling that can either oppress or be reframed towards freedom. It is a tale where Hero must protect her beloved from the shackles of wooers who have the force of society behind them to reduce Cherry to a trophy to serve their image and lusts as well as shun Hero for loving the very same woman. When he begins to tell stories in order to win Cherry over, Hero devises a countermeasure of storytelling to distract him long enough to win Cherry back in this delightfully feminist and fantastical play on the character of Scheherazade from One Thousand and One Nights.
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It’s all rather sharply satirical and I enjoy how storytelling is so central to this beautiful tale of queer heroism and love. It directly confronts how through history men have tended to be the canonical voice in framing the world. Such as here where the telling of his tale positions him as the hero and Cherry as his prize:
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But what happens when women try to tell the story? Well, look how even in the modern day a women doing a classic retelling tends to receive far harsher criticism, women have often been pushed aside for men to receive the prizes in order to hold up said prizes as proof of men’s superiority in writing, historians have centered the acts of men and held their tomes up as proof of men’s historical significance, women have been denied the ability to own property or hold jobs and then had that held against them as proof of their inability to rise in the workforce, the list is endless. Or, simply, when women speak we get this:
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TEXT: These women have been accused of witchcraft! Of storytelling and sassiness! And they must be put to death!
Its all a rather fun story that pokes fun at patriarchy and comes swinging. Will Hero live up to her name? Will the man get the last word (and first and most of the middle ones too?) Will the bird god have some great scenes? Better pick this up and find out!
King Lear but make it queer. And set in a moderately magical modern day high school with apparently....Team Rocket?
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King Cheer the second iKing Lear but make it queer. And set in a moderately magical modern day high school with apparently....Team Rocket?
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King Cheer the second in the series from the team of Molly Horton Booth, Stephanie Kate Strohm and illustrator Jamie Green who introduced us to Arden High with Twelfth Grade Night is back with more Shakespeare retellings as cheer team captain Leah decides to step down from her role and give the cheer throne to whomever can show her the most gratitude through a single cheer. Taking the complexities of King Lear and adapting it into teenage politicking over which teams get to use the gym and high emotions over dating, this is a fun retelling with stunning artwork that is rather playfully successful with the source material. Convoluted for effect, it might not balance the large cast quite as effortlessly as the original but it makes for a fun read that feels like a honest and heartfelt tribute to one of the greatest stories ever told.
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Tensions are high when Leah bestows power upon the cheerleaders who shower her in praise but cuts Cora from the team for refusing to put up with such a ridiculous task for power. It fits quite well into the Lear story with Cora as Cordelia and Rae and Gabe as Regan and Goneril, though we also have the Gloucester’s in the mix as power plays amongst the basketball team intertwine with the cheer team. The art really drives this story as well, keeping the pace quick through excellent framework that breaks up the heavy dialogue and some great character design. It makes great use of the source material and while the story can get fairly convoluted, it is still in keeping with the original tale. There are A LOT of characters but the art helps differentiate though its sort of easy to forget who they all are. It does, however, successfully hit the right notes and show how the thirst for power can really throw everything into disarray and I enjoyed the political elements that center on who gets to use the gym space.
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Oh, and don’t worry, France makes a small appearance even if it doesn’t become a full out war…
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A cute story with a really wonderful amount of queer representation across a large variety of sexuality and trans identities. The Arden High series has been quite fun and I am excited for more.
Fixing up a house is not the same as fixing up a home, but for 14 year old Almudena the three months she spends fixing up an old Brownstone with her fFixing up a house is not the same as fixing up a home, but for 14 year old Almudena the three months she spends fixing up an old Brownstone with her father might be the opportunity to make both happen. An adorable coming-of-age graphic novel centered on family and identity, Brownstone from Samuel Teer and artist Mar Julia is a heartwarming hit. When her mother has to leave for a dance tour for the summer, Almudena is sent to stay with her father for three months, the catch is that she has never before met him. Suddenly immersed in a Guatemalan culture she was previously unaware of and unable to speak Spanish, Almudena navigates the frictions of her new community in this excellent story with plenty of space to breathe and let the nuance shine through explorations of community, gentrification and family.
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A big shout out to Hope and their review for inspiring me to read this as they are always correct when recommending a book. This was an adorable graphic novel and I was pleased to see how much space it gave to exploring the topics within while keeping the pace comfortably forward moving. Mar Julia’s artwork is wonderful with excellent depictions of city life and characters that are able to display a wide range of emotions quite effectively. In a story where the main character is outside the culture and language and must rely on visual cues and translation, the book using a strong sense of visual literacy to tell the story was nice. Suddenly dropped into a culture she had no idea was her own is a lot to Almudena, struggling to not feel like a fraud while her neighbors teasingly call her “off-brand” and trying to make sense of her new identity. It is empathetically presented with a good use of humor, particularly around her finding the food too spicy and being told she needs to check the “white people aisle” of the grocery store.
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There is an excellent cast of characters here that allows the story to wind through a lot of other examinations of identity, such two characters coming to terms with their queer identities in a community that isn’t always the most accepting or supportive. There is also the issue of gentrification closing stores and whitewashing the predominantly Guatemalan area as well as her father’s backstory of coming to the United States. It makes for a very well-rounded story that gives a lot of room for character development and understanding that I quite enjoyed. It does occasionally feel like issues or disputes are resolved rather quickly, though with a cast of teenagers it is easy to dismiss, especially as it is the collective cast coming together and interacting that makes this such a charming story.
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Brownstone is a gorgeous tale of family and identity and quite a heartwarming read. Almudena spends much of the story trying to fix not only the house with her father, but also everyones problems and relationships and has to learn she can’t do everything herself. But her efforts and the changes she can make mean a whole lot A cute read that will charm readers of any age.
We all go ricocheting off one another through life and even the best laid plans can never account for the unseen actions (or subversions) of others ofWe all go ricocheting off one another through life and even the best laid plans can never account for the unseen actions (or subversions) of others often moving as a chain reaction of emotional energy from multiple degrees of separation. Such is the tangled web of people Merry-Go Round aims to capture, a rather convoluted, modern graphic novel adaptation of a Arthur Schnitzler play from 1920. This 2021 Andersen Prize for Best Comic Book winning title is brought to life by writer Sergio Rossi, illustrated by Agnese Innocente and translated here from the Italian by Carla Roncalli di Montorio, and moves between 10 characters. Beginning with two characters, each chapter takes one character from the previous chapter and shows their interactions with a new character until we return back to the first as a rather interesting look at all the various romances (mostly thwarted), heartbreaks, betrayals and more that go on between them. As Hope mentions in their review which inspired me to read this, it can be a bit obfuscating, though the emotional vibes still hit decently well and makes for a fascinating portrait of young life caught in the tempests of one another.
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This is rather fun though often a bit frustrating with some of the stories being a tad tough to follow where motivations can be a bit hazy. Mostly it features young people thwarting their own love lives by being fairly bad at it, which feels rather true to life. It goes through quite the range of emotions with a few rather well done scenes, one in particular featuring the daydreams of two characters as they await a pregnancy test imagining both the good and bad times that might be coming. The scene, however, follows discovering that the same guy may have two different women awaiting pregnancy tests while he is sleeping with one of their mothers so like, the characters tend to be pretty flawed and often unlikable. Aside from the adorable romance between the bookstagram girl and the shy girl who is texting her pretending to be her friend because he has no interest in actually learning bookstagram girl’s book interests. Though this plot line felt like a less nuanced rehash of the movie The Half of It. Still the vibes are pretty enjoyable and the art is delightful.
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Merry-Go Round is indeed quite the Merry-Go Round of emotions and has a rather fascinating method of telling a broad story. Worth the read, though I must confess I was only mildly enthusiastic about it.
What are the boundaries between a sense of self and the body which houses us? ‘I am not an “I,” I am a collection of organs hallucinating,’ Lucille teWhat are the boundaries between a sense of self and the body which houses us? ‘I am not an “I,” I am a collection of organs hallucinating,’ Lucille tells us at the start of My Body Unspooling, and ‘me and my body are at odds with each other.’ This gooey and gnarled graphic novel from Leo Fox tells a profound and profoundly unsettling tale of body dysmorphia brought to an existential fever pitch of a literal break between one’s self and physical anatomy. Depicted in bold and goopy artwork that resonates like a beautiful nightmare, Fox explores the abstractions of the self distressed by the awareness of its own vessel through which one may move through the world but also the traumas of becoming unmoored from a physical existence. Thought provoking and eye popping with visions of viscera that drive home the body horror at the core of the story, My Body Unspooling is a sharp little read.
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‘I am never alone, I am never silent. My organs are always chattering.’
This unnervingly delightful comic, brought to you by my continuing adventures through Silver Sprocket’s catalog, cuts right to the heart of philosophical ponderings on the nature of the self as either of the body or contained within it that has long been a source of fascination. For instance, 19th century philosopher William James (you, too, may have memorized ‘fruits over roots’ in association with him for Philosophy 101 class) argued that the “self” could be understood as the interplay between the “me” and the “I,” or the ‘self as object’ or ‘self as subject’ respectively. Are we the self that is an object of experience or the subject of it or, as was postulated by 20th century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, the self is not the body or psychology but the metaphysical self, something that is not of the world but a limit to it. And still will have the neurologists who look to the self-referential thoughts in the brain, all responding to stimuli from all around the body. But however you choose to interpret the self, for Lucille here this is a burden he is no longer willing to bear.
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The story is loose and abstract, though one would not be wrong to consider it in terms of dissonance with socialized gender norms and Lucille’s sense of self. There is an excellent metaphor of the trans experience here, though also vague enough that anyone with body dysmorphia or a generalized discomfort existing in their body can relate to, empathize, and interrogate. What really makes this a success are Fox’s vivid and surreal illustrations that perfectly layer in with the text and overall artistic implications. It becomes a rather moving look at Lucille wishing to break from their body, though ‘with no body to protect me, the dreams come unbidden’ and there is an overall message to find the best way to love yourself and strive to find a way for the body and self to live in some sense of harmony.
Delightfully gross yet gorgeous artwork and a heady but accessible and abstract narrative that feels fully realized in 30 some pages, My Body Unspooling is a great little comic that will linger with me for a long time. I look forward to more work from Leo Fox.
The pressure to perform and achieve perfection builds in uneasy tension towards terror in Flo Wooley’s Skin Deep. This gorgeously illustrated graphic The pressure to perform and achieve perfection builds in uneasy tension towards terror in Flo Wooley’s Skin Deep. This gorgeously illustrated graphic novel is brief but drenched in dread, body horror and eerie atmosphere as it recounts the past few weeks in a dance house leading up to the disappearance of the lead dancer. Jealousy and subtle queer desire burns through these pages that that crackle and pop with Wooley’s artwork primarily colored in blue and green for a creepy and sinister little read.
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I really love these short comics coming out from Silver Sprocket and Skin Deep is another little gem combining surreal sci-fi vibes with horror and queer characters. This one builds pretty quickly but is just soaked in dread the whole way as the first quick flash of memory foreshadows a gruesome conclusion to come. I loved the eerie nighttime dance hall and the sinister weight of competition that fuels this tiny tale.
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Most of all, I loved Flo Wooley’s artwork and I hope we get a full length graphic novel from them soon. Quick but satisfying.
Once the day nestles down into the horizon, the night opens like a gateway of possibilities. ‘The excess light during the day hides treasures that onlOnce the day nestles down into the horizon, the night opens like a gateway of possibilities. ‘The excess light during the day hides treasures that only the night reveals,’ advises the mysterious older woman in Samir Dahmani’s somber graphic novel, Seoul Before Sunrise, a gorgeously watercolor illustrated narrative of coming-of-age metamorphosis and awakening desires forged in the depths of nocturnal loneliness. It follows in a tradition of quiet, introspective storytelling addressed to the transformative properties of the night, where we strip out of our public personas of the day to grapple with the wilderness of thoughts and suppressed emotions that blossom under the starlight of a velvety night, taking shape in brushstrokes of philosophical insight to color the thin framework of narrative. Its a story that seems best expressed in hushed tones with plenty of atmosphere that allow it to be delicately beautiful, but while Dahmani’s graphic novel is beautiful to behold it feels crushed in too much dialogue and forward progress that never allows it to breathe at ease or really sink into its prevailing sense of loneliness. Moving through the quiet nights of Seoul and chronicling the ache of a young woman separated from her best friend after going to two different universities, Seoul Before Sunrise is adorned in lovely musings and made up of all the right ingredients but feels like the recipe was off and cooked too hot and too quickly to be truly satisfying.
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‘Between the time the last train leaves and the first train arrives, the place changes: it's not the same as in daytime.’ wrote Haruki Murakami in his novel After Dark, a story that similarly unveils the philosophical undercurrents of the offbeat passengers of the night such as Seoul Before Sunrise attempts to do. But while this graphic novel aims at a rather singular effect—the quiet adventures of Seong-ji and the much older woman who takes her along breaking into houses just to look while extolling the virtues of the night as a way for Seong-ji to recognize and embrace what her yearning for her absentee friend really means about her—Murakami’s is able to dip into a variety of ideas and themes that thread together for a complete whole. Sure, they are two different stories with different aims, but comparatively the multi-dimensional approach helps reveal in contrast what makes Seoul Before Sunrise seem like the reader is left wanting. It does dip into a brief moment of magical realism and discusses at length issues of loneliness, change and metamorphosis, yet it always feels at arms length in an emotional sense. It feels too direct as well, despite dealing with more abstract ideas.
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For a story of noctural wanderings, the story itself never gets to wander and soak in any atmosphere. It reads akin to a flower held too tightly in ones hand, the petals crushed. While the art is gorgeous—I LOVE the watercolor art and colors—it rarely gets a moment of quiet without text boxes or small frames pushed off quickly into more plot. Even just one or two full page cityscapes with no text would have vastly improved the atmosphere and let the feeling of loneliness really engulf you. It all moves too quickly, a story of night set at the pace of bustling day, which is odd to say as there is very little plot to begin with. The dialog is wonderful however, and I like the way the characters explore the themes.
‘‘During the day everyone is so judgemental…The night rebalances things and disturbs our senses. We see things differently. The night lets us behave in ways that can surprise us.’
The night is a surprise for Seong-ji when, during her nightly shifts at a convenience store, she is befriended by an older woman and ushered into her evening romps through other peoples homes and around Seoul. They explore ideas of how people drift apart—‘One or two degrees difference is enough... For us to end up truly distant from one another’—or how right before the dawn there is a moment of transformation.
‘It’s no longer night, but not yet day. It’s the darkest time and also the coldest. It’s also a time when unexplained phenomena occur. Because during that violent time of transition you have to be ready for change. For the day is coming’
This ‘violent time of transition’ occurs, and leaves the book on a sad yet hopeful note because even though Seong-ji ends in a poorly way at least she is embracing who she is.
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The narrative around the mysterious older friend is a bit odd though. Seong-ji finds her ‘refreshingly weird’ and their companionship starts to steer towards Seong-ji recognizing queer desires in herself. Which…okay, I don’t know if this book handled it all that well? I mean, I suppose it was sort of realistic but there is a sense of the woman (who is 38) as a bit predatory. She’s juxtaposed with a scene of an older man called out for intentionally shopping in a student district to talk to young girls and I honestly wish the epilogue would not have been included. The book already ends on a rather harsh and heartbreaking note but still with hope, though her inclusion at the end gives a rather unsettling and grimey sense to it. It is a story about repressed queer desires coming out, but the one who guides the girl into it might be taking advantage of her and seems to react angrily about it which just…is not helpful when we see a man writing queer women as predatory? I don’t know, it just felt bleak in a way that didn’t benefit the story.
Though perhaps it is getting into that there are no legal protections for discrimination against gender identity or sexuality in South Korea with same-sex marriage still being illegal. Dahmani studied in South Korea in 2013 and 2014, and has done comics work with their partner from South Korea so this does attempt to infuse a lot of Korean culture into the plot (aspects on beauty standards that can be harmful to women and lead to South Korea being the plastic surgery capitol of the world are briefly addressed). There is an attempt to capture Seoul that was nice to see.
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At the end of the day, I wanted to like this more than I did and it leaves you feeling a bit uncomfortable. Intentionally so, though the use of homophobia as foreshadowing for queer desires was kind of a lot and it just felt like trying to be harsh and edgy to contrast the soft, delicate aspects and it just didn’t blend. Still, Seoul Before Sunrise is gorgeously illustrated and does have some lovely thoughts on the possibilities of night.
‘Aren’t we all just cogs in the apocalypse machine?’
In a war-torn future where two rival CEOs battle for domination, two heroines are pitted against e‘Aren’t we all just cogs in the apocalypse machine?’
In a war-torn future where two rival CEOs battle for domination, two heroines are pitted against each other in televised gladiator combat to entertain the masses and control the public narrative that the global war is in response two the battle between these two “gods.” Kimberly Wang’s Of Thunder & Lightning is a brief but powerful little satirical graphic novel that takes dead aim at corporate propaganda. Robot “gods” Magni and Dimo have been created for the sole purpose of fighting each other, though their televised battles are highly coordinated with quippy catch phrases and continuity requirements. The battles hurt, but as they exist only for pain and proliferating propaganda, they’ve come to find meaning in their shared battles and take pleasure in that unity with one another. With wonderful two-tone art, an apocalyptic setting and a plotline that feels like a video game or battle-robot anime, Of Thunder & Lightning is a fun and thoughtful satire.
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I really enjoy the sharp critiques of corporate propaganda and disaster capitalism here, with this dying world wrapped up in the narrative of fighting gods to distract them from the widespread horrors of global warfare and doom. There’s a lot of really interesting and heady ideas going on, particularly in the abstract middle segment that probes questions like deciding between a human-like computer and a computer-like human or if the AI soldiers dying for their corporation have an afterlife. The story is quite short and abstract, letting the reader fill in a lot of the gaps with their own imagination which I really appreciate, though I wish this had a little more space to build the world in order to help ground the ideas a little more. It also wraps up very quickly, but was altogether satisfying.
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I’ve quite enjoyed the graphic novels and comics coming from Silver Sprocket and Of Thunder & Lighting is another great little work. They have some really wonderful and edgy works that tend towards sharp satire and social criticisms while also being very LGBTQ+ forward. Oh yea, the AI battle-robots here are gay. It’s great. I hope to read more from Kimberly Wang in the future. But also, if you were to replace all your organs and brain one by one with robotic AI tech, would you still be you?
3.5/5
‘The end of the world came slowly. And then all at once.’...more
If you are looking for a book to make you say ‘what the fuck did I just read?’ (appreciative)...well, this is the book for you! Totem, the first EngliIf you are looking for a book to make you say ‘what the fuck did I just read?’ (appreciative)...well, this is the book for you! Totem, the first English language graphic novel release from author and artist Laura Pérez, is an eerie, surreal tale framed around a woman thinking back on the disappearance of her girlfriend in the Arizona desert, a cacophony of memories collapsing in on themselves triggered by the discovery of another girl’s body. A feast for crows under the sweltering sky yet also a gateway into a fragmentary and preternatural exploration of time and space stretching out beyond the scope of death. With gorgeous, haunting artwork that drapes the narrative in foreboding melancholy, Pérez takes the reader along on the road trip into the desert, beyond the boundaries of the physical world and into the gaps of time where ghosts gather among the living. Somber yet subtly sinister and unsettling, Totem gets under your skin.
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'When we are awake, we operate in one state of consciousness. When we sleep, we operate in another. But there are many others. Sometimes, the realities become connected. They fuse together. Like the petals of a desert rose.'
While I have some theories that I’d still like to mull over more after having read this twice now, I suspect it is a story that eludes concrete explanation and is more a puzzle to enjoy the for the sake of pondering rather than a puzzle to crack. Like a good David Lynch film if you’ll forgive the lazy comparison, though I couldn’t help but be reminded of his surrealist “mystery” Mulholland Drive. Though I was also reminded of the Omegamart Meow Wolf interactive art exhibit just outside of Las Vegas. or those who have not experienced a Meow Wolf, definitely look them up and try to go to one it is so worth it, but reading this reminded me of the uncanny and unsettling aspects of the parts of the Omegamart plot with people vanishing between dimensions in the Nevada desert. Totem is an evasive narrative that shifts between time and, possibly, dimensions as well where the idea of emblematic objects (or people) of the title becomes a multi-dimensional and nested metaphor as well. What happened to the missing girlfriend, why do the various other characters in the segments adjacent to the primary narrative look just like them, and can a person be a totem for a ghost now gone?
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The artwork in this adds such an incredible layer of intrigue, with the visual elements pulling the story along more than the minimal text upon the pages. It opens it up to an exciting degree of interpretability and Perez seems to keep any direct connections just beyond reach or vaguely disjointed enough to further the disorientation and impression that it is a mystery beyond the scope of the natural state of the human mind. At least confined by the fabric of our daily reality, which seems to be malleable and perhaps permeable here.
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But I shan’t say too much because this is a story that is best read unmoored in its unsettling atmosphere and visual extravagance. I’d love to talk theories with anyone however, I wrote a full page of them I’m deleting because experiencing the puzzle and the mystery and the awe is half the excitement. It’s the journey of thought, not the destination, that makes Totem a fever dream of vague menace and fascination.
While love will always shake you, some loves will shatter you. Women, an intimate confessional of a novella charged with volatile vulnerability, conceWhile love will always shake you, some loves will shatter you. Women, an intimate confessional of a novella charged with volatile vulnerability, concerns the latter. Told in a fragmentary fashion, Chloe Caldwell confides in the reader to chronicle the collision course of a first and feverish sapphic love affair caught in a tailspin of passion and toxic patterns of addiction. Hailed as a modern cult classic of lesbian fiction, Women is, at its heart, a devastating portrait of a coming-of-age in search of itself. Using a burning flame of desire as a torch to seek her identity in the dark, we are reminded that the passions that burn brightest and hottest burn out the fastest, leaving our narrator to smolder in the charred remains of her affair with an older woman. A bit repetitive and aimless for effect toward the end, the narrative reads familiar to the break-up breakdown rants we’ve all likely been told by–or ourselves told to–close friends over a night fueled by drug and drink. Caldwell’s raw and incisive prose, however, coupled with her ability to orchestrate emotion and empathetic introspection even in the narrator's worst moments keep the story from blowing itself out with its own rapid breath. Teasing autobiography and flowing from the depths of lovelorn distress, Women is a intense interrogation of identity and women’s sexuality caught in the throes of obsessive and destructive desire that, like the narrator, will leave you ‘bruised, exhausted, and fluttering back to earth.’
Women feels like a book that should be read in second-hand copies, passed between friends or lovers amalgamating annotations and underlines along with spine creases and folder corners. Which is likely how it became a modern cult classic over the past decade, originally published in 2014 and recently reissued in a 10 year anniversary edition complete with a new afterword by the author. In her reflections on the now-decade long legacy, she cites her fans who often tell stories of being passed a copy (or stealing it), of reading it as if its possession was a social subversion, a totem, a comfort, a companion. Sometimes the right book hits you in a time of need and I was rather touched to learn how frequently Women was that book for others. How its blunt and bold portray of women’s sexuality or queer desires was like an anthem in prose. Caldwell immerses the story in the pop culture of the day—also a hefty repertoire of book and film references—in a way that would have made it feel it were happening in real time upon its release and easily relatable to those amidst it. l10 years on it still holds up and though some of the pop culture references may feel dated, they also affix the novel in its time and place and our likely to produce a sense of nostalgia in those who are now coming to it for the first time. And while nostalgia may be an unrequited romance with the past, studies have suggested that nostalgia in a romance tends to make it stronger.
‘Trust me. I Hate myself more than you ever can.’
Not that the reflections on the affair with Finn, a librarian 19 years her senior, are nostalgia, per say, as anything wistful comes abraded with sadness and pain. While it is ultimately a muted hope in the end, the story arrives with a sense of desperation to talk it out in order to understand it herself. It begins at the end, with Finn now removed by a distance of miles as well as years where their only communication is the cycle of blocking and unblocking each other on facebook or goodreads (the latter gave me a laugh because that is such a wild and...well…familiar vibe). Caldwell–presumably the narrator–has arrived in the city fresh from kicking a drug addiction but soon finds herself caught in Finn’s waves and hopelessly obsessed with her. Finn, who her trans friend Nathan remarks ‘I cant tell if she’s incredibly cocky or incredibly tortured,’ is everything the narrator desires: she’s self assured, well put together, and sexually confident. As the novel progresses we see she represents to the narrator everything she’s not, even being uncertain of her own sexuality despite desiring to want and be wanted only by women. Through the course of Women the narrator is unmoored—a term she comes to obsess over—in her own sense of self and allows it to be steered by waves, and often tempests, of Finn’s temperaments. It should come as no surprise their companionship will be dashed upon such waves.
‘I always want to feel good and I never want to feel bad. Because of this, I’m experienced in substance abuse issues.’
The obsession for Finn has one major catch. Finn has a long-term girlfriend and doesn’t seem interested in leaving her even as the sexual encounters with the narrator become frequent. ‘Finn and I rarely talked about her girlfriend,’ she tells us, ‘instead, we allowed her to be a looming tempest around everything we did.’ Not only is she never named, a reminder she is thought of as something to be shamefully avoided the narrator tells us in one of the many moments the narrator directly engages with the craft of the story with the reader, but she even admits it was several drafts of the novel before she even included the girlfriend. Which screams shame and embarrassment far beyond the words on the page. She is even aware of her voracious desires for Finn as akin to her substance abuse problems, she just can’t help herself and always pushes into extreme emotions or behaviors. Which is never a good bedrock for any relationship with aims beyond making the bed rock.
‘The quick transitions between bliss and hell, between our fights and apologies, are so extreme, so jolting. It feels so different from the men I have dated, who refused to engage in this sort of drama. Finn seems to be able to stomach it. In retrospect, I think I may have been testing her, pushing her, trying to scare her away. Not knowing how to walk away on my own.’
With everything, the narrator moves with a recklessness as if in search of revelation, as if life is a room filled with jars and she must smash the right one to find it. She is drawn to this behavior in others too. A first date late in the story occurs with a young woman who’s life cycles between rehab and arrests encourages the narrator to steal a salad and later gives her a small bag of cocaine. I’ve referred to the rawness of this book already but seriously, this book has zero chill.
‘There is an undertone of sadness to the night. I say, I don’t understand why you’re here, it confuses me. She says she wanted to see me. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Do you want me to leave? No. Yes. No. Yes. Of course I want you to leave. Of course I don’t want you to leave.’
Any flame this out of control is likely to burn you. ‘This is damaged’ Finn admits and Caldwell excels at authentically capturing the hurricane of arguments, walking away but always coming back, toxic couples often do, prolonging the inevitable and only amassing more emotional scars in the process. It is a sign, however, that the narrator cannot exist without Finn to define her, identifying with a line she finds in a book about the tv series The L Word:
‘She was alone in battling the heartache, along with facing an overwhelming identity crisis, in a place that was not yet her home.’
I rather enjoyed how the narrator comes to books and quotes to help process their own life. ‘Books are like doctors and I am lucky to have unlimited access to them during this time. A perk of the library.’ As a fellow book lover I can’t help but enjoy their early cute stages texting each other quotes by writers like Rebecca Solnit, Adrienne Rich, Maggie Nelson, Mary Ruefle (its one of many aspects where Caldwell is seemingly placing her work amongst her own favorites like Kate Zambreno). I also can’t gloss over the narrator’s job as a library page and lines like ‘as a writer it is inspiring to work at a library, to see so many people reading and borrowing books, writing in notebooks and on computers. I feel validated.’ Sitting here writing this on the library info desk, I too feel validated. Thanks, Chloe!
‘As soon as you write anything down, it’s fiction.’
The inclusion of quotes and frequent references nudges Caldwell’s typical style of non-fiction writing and aids in making the reader wonder where along the spectrum of fiction to memoir this story rests. Is it autofiction? Almost entirely fiction but a shared emotional struggle? I don’t know and personally don’t want to find out because I find the mystery more engaging.In a 2016 interview with Electric Lit, Caldwell discusses the freedom that came with writing Women having usually worked in non-fiction essays and memoir like Legs Get Led Astray. ‘I’d never written in the structure of Women, like a novella, so that helped me fictionalize,’ she says, ‘I’d been working on Women for about two months before I began fictionalizing, bending truth, and adding characters.’ Yet, one is likely to wonder…who is Finn and how many layers of fiction does she reside behind.
‘She looks at me looking at her, and says, In my wildest dreams, I never thought you would look at me that way.’
A big crux of the story, it seems, is if the narrator succeeds in making you love Finn the way she did. She sets out to do it right from page one, finding herself falling in love all over again from her own descriptions. Though, personally, I found Finn to never exist solely as Finn on the page and we can only know Finn as she is defined by the narrator’s interactions as much as the narrator defines herself in Finn’s gaze. We are told Finn is manipulative, yet how true is that? Sure the circumstances of their relationship are dodgy, but how much are we manipulated by the narrator? This is another abstract playingfield of narrative mystery, and having not know Finn or the narrator without the context of the other makes their separation more intensely felt, though without having known Finn enough the narrator’s impassioned account feels a bit dull along the edges. Perhaps this is me having approached the novel in a stage in life where I’ve healed through heartbreaks and found I can enjoy the self in solitude as much as with others so the extreme first big break-up energy has also lost a bit of its edge on me. Again, this is more a Me problem, and I suspect the intensity and unhinged toxic energy will be a delight for many readers.
‘Yes, it was a crazy night—but that is to be expected, it has been a crazy month.’
I’ve seen complaints that the novel tend towards rather surface stereotypes of lesbians. While, sure, I guess that makes sense as the narrator is in her early stages of exploring the queer possibilities of her sexuality which would understandably be rather surface level depictions, Caldwell addresses this in a 2024 interview with Write or Die Magazine about how even in just a decade the discourse and language around LGBTQ+ individuals has shifted and progressed and that gap in time is felt in the novella:
‘What’s interesting in what you’re asking—is this fiction or nonfiction, is this person gay or not gay—is everyone brings to that their own projections. It was important that this narrator didn’t have a hard line on their identity. To what you’re saying, the word queer was not being used so liberally and if it were the book would say, this is easy, I’m queer. It just wouldn’t even exist in the same way. But we had to use the word bisexual, I guess… …But again, it’s so interesting how language works because if I had had these words like pan I think I would’ve probably latched onto them. But even in interviews people would be like, so are you bi? I didn’t know. And it just felt like a really big commitment.’
This is a story about searching for identity, which explains why it does approach queerness from a straight gaze seeing as that is Caldwell’s own perspective and I suppose its great to see we now live in a time where there is a rich literature of queer novels that don’t center the straight gaze. I did, however, question if this book perhaps perpetuates some negative stereotypes as well. Namely it broadly paints lesbians as highly volatile, a doubling down on the misogynistic claims of women as overly emotional stemming back to “hysteria” being a diagnosis using women’s frustrations and feelings against them.
‘I ask Finn if things are always this insane and dramatic between two women, and she says yes. She says it’s either like this, or monotonous and boring. As if there is no in-between.’
Ultimately, though, this is a book about mental health and seeking wellness and the tensions between Finn and the narrator are a collision of each other's insecurities and darknesses. Perhaps it can be read as a commentary on how, in an era when being openly gay was far less accepted and dangerous, that tension of hiding the self from the world or even from yourself will radiate out. Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin captured this as a major theme, for instance.
‘We will never go through with these plans we have for the future.’
A sad but emotionally investigative work, Women is an interesting blend of memoir and fiction where the the mystery of the mixture lends itself positively to the narrative. A short read that, admittedly, read a bit slow and repetitive, it is still a bold book on queer desire and the search for identity while also being a heart wrenching look at the destructive cycles which thwart our progress and while love can set our heart ablaze, such toxicity can burn down the palaces of love in return. It is no surprise Women has achieved a status as a modern cult classic.
3.5/5
‘Besides some aches in our bones, and the tear in my coat, we are fine. We all keep going.’
**insert punk guitar riff "Kicking ass Being gay Saving the world From Y2K! YEA!"** I’m going to just assume those are lyrics from Volcano Girls in the del**insert punk guitar riff "Kicking ass Being gay Saving the world From Y2K! YEA!"** I’m going to just assume those are lyrics from Volcano Girls in the delightful second volume to Heavy Vinyl where our teen vigilantes are now rocking ears when they aren’t punching faces. This series is a bit silly but it’s also high energy, adorably sapphic and so much fun.
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The crew is back as the 90s are barreling to a close and everyone is concerned about Y2K while assured that computer programmers have got it covered. Yet computers are crashing and maybe those burned cds aren’t as safe like everyone’s mom was worried about? This volume is a lot of fun, really making the period piece element work for the story better than in the first. I especially liked the element of slow dial-up issues when trying to buy concert tickets. This issue however lacks some of the romantic tension and all-around joy of the original that makes it feel a tad sophomore-slump. Not that it’s bad, and there’s plenty of new dynamics: Chris and Maggie are so cute together but dating is full of anxiety, D might have romance on the horizon with a girl possibly even more hip that her, Logan is leaving town and more…because now they have a battle of the bands to win. And a lot of asses to kick.
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The artwork continues to be amazing and possibly even stronger in this volume. I particularly like how well it captures action and big montage moments. Honestly, even if this is a bit lacking in story compared to the first one, it’s still just awesome to look at.
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I love Heavy Vinyl and I hope Carly Usdin makes good on the promise at the end for a third volume. These characters are so fun to read about and I just want Chris and Maggie to be adorably in love forever. And make sweet music. Heavy Vinyl: Y2K-O is a lovely continuation of a thrilling graphic novel series.
With her kingdom in financial disarray, pirates on the assault and potential war on the horizon, Princess Amelia must give herself in marriage to a smWith her kingdom in financial disarray, pirates on the assault and potential war on the horizon, Princess Amelia must give herself in marriage to a smart, political alliance to protect her family and homeland. But instead of a prince, Amelia finds herself betrothed to the recently coronated Queen of a mysterious nation, the very woman Amelia finds herself unable to look away from. Unfortunately, with the pacing and underwhelming but convoluted storyline, The Marble Queen is one from which you might find yourself too easily able to look away. A rather promising graphic novel from author Anna Kopp and illustrator Gabrielle Kari, there’s still a lot to enjoy with the sapphic tale filled with swordplay, swooning, and betrayal by the bucketload. While rather bland in terms of art and story, The Marble Queen is still a worthwhile read with a constantly twisting tale of palace intrigue and a rather adorable romance.
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This may have been a better novel to give all the elements room to breathe and coalesce, though that said this reads as a bit overly long still. There’s a lot of moving pieces and players in this, and unfortunately the artwork often doesn’t quite uphold the narrative and occasionally some of the characters are difficult to distinguish from each other. There are several nations in the political mix and a lot of plotting, secrets and backstabbing which is rather fun however. Though the pacing just never finds a groove and it goes from being a bit of a slog to suddenly being action-packed but then rushing through those scenes into rather cumbersome info dumping. And the art, which is often flat background or low-detail, just never quite lives up to the cover and the rather gorgeous scenes are few and far between. Still, one can’t be too disappointed as it does feature some awesome women doing awesome swordplay, so don’t be too quick to dismiss it.
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I rather enjoyed the love story here, which also came with many twists and turns. Amelia has feelings for Salira right away, but represses them and is uncomfortable with the concept of marrying a woman. But she knows it is what she wants. I liked how the kingdom of Iliad was shown as being a very accepting nation in terms of sexuality and there were many queer pairings amongst the people. An aspect of the artwork I really enjoyed was the representation of anxiety, with Amelia having anxiety attacks depicted as thorny roots reaching for her and mocking her. While Salira is also shown to be haunted by her anxiety, this plot line sort of fizzles out and is never actually addressed despite being rather important early on and leading to one of the major plot twists. It’s frustrating it just gets discarded after that.
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Ultimately, this feels disjointed and trying to juggle too many elements. The part about the magic of Iliad was cool, but under utilized other than convenience to the narrative. It probably would have been better in prose honestly, which I usually find the combination of art to be a lovely added element but here it just didn’t do much. I still enjoyed it well enough though and I would recommend giving it a read if it interests you. The Marble Queen is flawed, but still good sapphic fun.
Imagination can be a great weapon against anxieties and awkwardness, but as troubles add up for Boo Meadows she might just need a friend to help carryImagination can be a great weapon against anxieties and awkwardness, but as troubles add up for Boo Meadows she might just need a friend to help carry that weight. Rainbow! Volume 1 from graphic novel team Sunny and Gloomy is an adorable and quirky story launch of queer coming-of-age and budding romance trying to blossom amidst the struggles of life. Teenage Boo struggles with the cruelty of classmates and an anxiety at work that often keeps her in the back room instead of serving tables but can’t even find peace at home as she inevitably must care for her alcoholic mother. But when new girl Mimi shows up at school and starts throwing punches on day one, Boo might have found a friend with the grit she needs against the world. Or is there something more on the horizon? A cute graphic novel with some gorgeous art that doesn’t shy away from the darker moments in life Rainbow: Volume 1 is a promising beginning.
Rainbow! began as a web comic on Tapas Media, and you can read this and the next issues HERE. This is a cute little coming-of-age story that, as it is just the first volume, only begins to hint at the directions this story will take and does end rather abruptly. While I think for the sake of a bound volume there could have been a better stopping point, this is hardly an issue and I will be looking forward to reading more. Especially as Boo and Mimi are delightful together with Boo more or less shocked that Mimi would even hang out with her as Mimi is so cool (for those who enjoy this trope I highly recommend the graphic novel If You’ll Have Me by Eunnie). I also really enjoyed Boo’s imagination here and how that granted a lot of free roam for the artwork. Though while Boo has a great imagination, it often gets her into trouble and as this story progresses Boo’s fantasies occasionally become more of an obstacle than a productive outlet.
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I enjoyed the ways that this story dives into some fairly gritty territory and shows that sometimes our quick coping mechanisms aren’t enough and can become their own problem altogether. Such as how the mother’s escape is drinking but is now a larger issue. Something this book does quite well is address the problems teens may be facing and the struggles of growing up when you have to essentially parent your own parent.
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Overall this was a solid start to what looks like it will be a lovely series. Some of the fantasy elements of Boo’s rampant imagination seems to take up a bit more space than they need to, since its just kind of repetitive and doesn’t add much once we are already aware she does this often, though I wonder if this will start to become a larger part of the plot? Either way, this was quite cute and queer and I can’t wait to see what comes next.
Sapphic book lovers: plug in and turn the dial all the way up because this a hit! Welcome to Vinyl Destination, the coolest vinyl shop in 1998 where tSapphic book lovers: plug in and turn the dial all the way up because this a hit! Welcome to Vinyl Destination, the coolest vinyl shop in 1998 where teen girl Chris has just landed her first job. Awkward but determined to be cool, she’s blissfully immersed in a land of amazing music and hip women coworkers, especially Maggie who is ‘literally the cutest.’ But something is amiss and this new girl suspects her coworkers are up to something when they send her home after close…
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Author Carly Usdin blends the love of music with the fight for justice in Heavy Vinyl, a rocking good time of a graphic novel with wonderful artwork from Nina Vakueva and Irene Flores. When bands start going missing, its up to a gang of tough teens to save the day and..oh wait, yea, I should probably mention that this record shop is just a front for a music loving gang who love to punch up at the patriarchy and stand up for justice.
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This is such a fun graphic novel full of action, music, queer romance and features a lovely inclusive cast of characters. Chris is suddenly ushered into this new world of post-close crime fighting and will have to keep her confidence up to keep up—made all the more difficult when D., her “arch enemy” (D’s words), is resentful of her being included in the group. But when the singer of the hardcore band that is supposed to play their shop disappears right before a new album release and her bandmates seem pre-programmed with polished, interview friendly marketing replies to any question, it’s going to take all of them to crack the case. Chris is so much fun to follow as we are treated to the chaotic anxiety running through her head, made all the more high-strung when she cannot stop thinking about Maggie who is always so sweet to her and can really land a kick.
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I enjoy how well this captures the adorableness of Chris and Maggie very blatantly having mutual crushes on each other but the accuracy of teenage anxiety that makes Chris scared maybe Maggie isn’t into her or even girls at all. Aww you adorable little crime fighting dorks, just kick the bad guys ass and kiss already. But for real, this is super fun and…okay the plot is a bit ridiculous involving mind control record labels with a plot to take any social justice messages out of music but its also a pretty timely evil villain idea as book censorship is rampant and queer stories or marginalized identities are often the primary targets.
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Is it all kind of dumb? Maybe. But is it super cute and fun? ABSOLUTELY. This is a joyous ride full of music and mayhem and I had a blast. Extra special shoutout to my assistant director who recommended this to me today when we were supposed to be talking about library programming. Heavy Vinyl is a blast. ⅘
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s.penkevich
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