California, Inc. Signing @ Comickaze

On the Honeylands of Mars by Matti Hagelberg (Mini Kus! #126)

I admit I kind of lost the thread at times with On The Honeylands of Mars, unable to parse the narrative thread of what was happening, to whom, and why, not aided by some of the rudimentary maps and infographics. At times, I think the translation shows through in the dialogue as well, with syntax that sounds a little reversed and may push readers out as a glitchy distraction, things like: “And what do you know, at that very moment starts his phone ringing.” Those quibbles aside, I enjoyed the lonely look at leadership and the introductory infographic immediately brought to mind the heady opening credits of sci-fi series The Expanse. The colors also really pop, particularly some of the burnt oranges and deep yellows in the panels with a cross-hatching grid-like effect over shots of the more realistic looking figures.

Into The Thicket by Mark Antonius Puhkan (Mini Kus! #125)

Puhkan’s art immediately brought to mind the black-and-white work of Charles Burns and his bold thick confident line weight, with a dash of the fine line details and wide-eyed photo-realism of a practitioner like Gary Frank. The total artistic package on display here is so pleasing to the eye. In fact, it wasn’t until my second reading of the book that I even noticed there’s no words or dialogue, a testament to Puhkan’s panel-to-panel storytelling ability and engaging style. The protagonist appears to be searching for something as he delves deeper Into The Thicket, perhaps something lost, something essential, something missing, echoing man’s inextricable connection to Mother Nature. Thematically, I think Puhkan is playing with the idea that as we follow our own creations, paths, and social advancements, it may be to our ruin, and that may or may not be inevitable. If that’s the case in life, we can either choose to believe in our fears, which are of our own making, or reject them in favor of eternal hope springing forth.

COMICUM by Majenye (Mini Kus! #124)

COMICUM starts as a tongue-in-cheek send-up of the fan culture surrounding comic cons, which for me is highlighted by a hilarious page of non-sequitur back and forth between a string of seemingly random cosplayers encountering each other amid the morass of con-goers, disparate interests and attitudes just intersecting and careening off each other into the grand void of the con. It goes something like this: Q: “Want some pineapple juice?” A: “Let’s go to the toilets again…” Q: “I love yoga and meditation.” A: “I prefer fentanyl.” Q: “This is the worst comic convention I’ve ever been to!” A: “This is the best day of my life!” Majenye reappropriates all manner of characters, from superheroes to furries to manga to TV cartoons, with several scenes of cosplay gone awry and family violence, all awash in vibrant colors and a stubbly tactile grit in the art that feels so good to my eye. If COMICUM stopped there – reminding us that everyone is into something, and it’s best not to “yuck” someone’s “yum” – it would already be a strong work, but suddenly it goes a meta-step further and becomes VERY interesting. Majenye then begins to pull the lens out from the con experience itself to add larger context, we’re reminded that we’ve witnessed pre- and post-con scenes. We’ve seen the preparatory anticipation of the con as attendees go about the drudgery of their daily lives. We see the post-con return to solitary artmaking and documentation once all the revelry of the convention has passed. Majenye doesn’t stop there, continuing to pull the lens even further back against the very fabric of space-time to bookend the con like waves rippling out from a stone thrown into a placid lake; we’ve seen a primordial animal kingdom as prologue, juxtaposed with an eventual return to nature as this society collapses before us in bacchanalian ritual. We see a prequel prophecy in the year 1599, then juxtaposed with a post-script about human extinction in the year 7682. It’s fantastic. There’s so much going on in COMICUM, so rapidly as it builds momentum along its own time continuum, that you might even miss the quick sly visual reference to the bizarre Golden Age gem I Shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets! by Fletcher Hanks. That was just the cherry on top of a book that had already won me over long before. This is top-shelf work functioning on multiple levels, with humor, sub-cultural insight, and meta-commentary all working in perfect harmony. This is one of the best books of 2024.

Undertow by Sara Boica (Mini Kus! #123)

I was immediately struck by the minimalism of Undertow and the sheer restraint demonstrated on the pages by Boica. At times, there is but one solitary line hanging in a panel, with such nothingness surrounding it that you have to admire the confidence. The central theme seems to be the rhythmic nature of waves crashing against a shore serving as metaphor for life, love, and existence as a whole. The metaphor seems to extend, as waves crash against shorelines, punctuated by images of bodies in repose, broken impartial things, and moments of anguish. It’s a bit of a reminder that we’re all just floating along like detritus awaiting stray glimmers of hope. The nature of the push and pull of the waves creating the undertow as they recede is not unlike our own trials and triumphs in life, in perpetual ebb and flow.

DJ School by Anu Ambasna (Mini Kus! #122)

When I thought DJ School was going to go right, it took a hard left! Ambasna’s work begins with the innocuous idea of people being inspired toward certain creative or career endeavors when experiencing something as simple as a song. It touches on societal pressures to “choose a lane” and pick a career, when it can be so much more rewarding to dabble in multiple hobbies or side-hustles. There’s a beautifully expansive half-page shot of the narrator’s first club experience that’s colorful, lush, and enveloping, it actually feels like a whole new world opening up to the protagonist. I’d love to own that original art! Suddenly, as the narrator embarks on the titular DJ School, the secret trick to the trade is revealed (though I wish they would have called it the secret “tip” for reasons that will become obvious once you read the book), and it becomes a commentary on the purported value of things like art school. The central question being, if you have innate talent in any industry, why do you need an art degree (or any degree for that matter), some professional certification, resume-building credentials, or to attend DJ School? It’s all kind of a sham, and I enjoyed the satirical absurd tone used to point it out. By the end, it’s suggested that to some degree we all have to buy into this and “play the game,” some doors will only be opened if you have that piece of paper on the wall.

Link by Gary Colin (Mini Kus! #121)

Link relies on repetitive geometric morphing patterns and forms in a kind of retro 8-bit static extravaganza to achieve a meditative effect. It’s a colorful easy read that becomes a bit more interactive with the reader than a more traditional style of narrative delivery. You find yourself wanting to play along, mimicking the actions or thoughts as they’re prescribed to you. While this may not connect with some readers, I found it to be an interesting experiment with the form, particularly as it builds toward transcendentalism, encouraging you to move your mind to a more peaceful place when you’re experiencing pain.

Transgender Homebody by Nuka Horvat (Mini Kus! #120)

I won’t bury the lede and will come right out and tell you this is an excellent book, and stands among the best comics, mainstream or indie, that I’ve read this year. (I’ll wink here to editor David Schilter and say that having just attended the ceremony at San Diego Comic Con for the 20-something-eth year, work like this should be submitted for Eisner Award consideration if not already done so.) Transgender Homebody was a joy to consume, using shapes and lines that almost coalesce into recognizable forms just on the periphery of our understanding, in an effect that must mirror the disorienting sensation of gender dysphoria. It’s a smartly constructed work that plays off of voyeurism, exhibitionism, (non?)consensuality, the edging and the erotic, with in your face with sumptuous lines like “i squirt on his pussy.” Generally, I’m not a fan of quoting a bunch of dialogue in a review, preferring to leave much for the reader to discover on their own. But with charged prose like this, my descriptions just won’t do it justice. There’s a gorgeous purple and seemingly engorged two-page spread that reads: “he proposes to my T-dick. he marries my throat. he commits to my identity, until I girlboss all over his face.” Sadly, by the end, everything seems to be fleeting and transitory, but oh the journey. Transgender Homebody revels in the brinksmanship of leaning into gender identity and affirmation as raw kinky turn-on, and seriously, what is hotter than seeing someone for who they truly are and accepting them with all-in joie de vivre? I love this book.

The History of a Toss by Weng Pixin (Mini Kus! #119)

The Universe is Chaos. This is the central treatise of Pixin’s otherwise affable and engaging work centered on the notion that bad things can, and often do, happen to good people. The thing is, the universe doesn’t discern between “good” and “bad,” there are only occurrences, series of events that are completely random and chaotic, crashing into each other and impacting our lives. In and of themselves, these events don’t have any meaning; it’s people who try to ascribe meaning or purpose to events, to look for patterns in the chaos in an effort to understand, influence, and control. Pixin’s work is deceptive, because the anthropomorphic creatures are cute and fun, but I read it, and enjoyed it, as a fairly dark work, suggesting that everything happening around us is just cold random happenstance. There is no order, there is no higher power standing in judgment, actions do not carry meaning, and while we may perceive them personally in an effort to infer value and worth, they actually have little to do with us.