SARCO by Tom L-Kherif (Mini Kus! #142)

SARCO opens with a disturbing suicide(?) jumper interrupting an otherwise innocuous daily routine. The protagonist silently navigates an empty (deliberate?) subterranean subway system, to an industrial warehouse (hidden in plain sight?) in an occupied part of a futuristic(?) city. There, an elderly man is silently signed up for entry in a high-tech coffin-like device (SARCO-phagus?) for a seemingly nefarious purpose. The protagonist then returns toward home from their mysterious task. SARCO is a difficult work to draw more conclusions or answers from with any certainty without additional content or context; it prompts more questions than it resolves and, by the end, it can feel like an introduction or first chapter in what has the potential to be a larger tale. There’s no dialogue and scant few clues in the art to pore over and induce meaning or plot from. Whether by natural uncorrelated causes or a network of conspiratorial agents, figures are being removed from society by “accidents,” systemic processes, or even partially, at times, it seems. Yet, I can safely say that I was deeply intrigued by the mystery of what’s occurring, I want to learn more, to understand why, and continue to be engaged by this utterly captivating world-build that deserves a follow-up.

Confessions of a Nose-Picking Lover by Ruoki (Mini Kus! #141)

Sure, Confessions of a Nose-Picking Lover is exactly what it purports to be, ostensibly about a person who delights in unabashedly digging for gold, with sickly yellows and reds in the art that almost revel in the booger-sugared (sometimes) bloody consistency. But, what the heck is really going on here? The actual message is that any (consenting) indulgence in life can be good, no matter how taboo it may be perceived to be by outsiders. Ruoki states that nose-picking elicits a “Zen-life flow state” rather than the “wild frenzy” of, say, an orgasm, because it’s a return to some primal satisfaction. When you’re into something so passionately, you should share your love of that thing with the world, do it in public, teach others how to do it, and build a community of like-minded individuals. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that as I write this review, I’m preparing to depart for WonderCon in Anaheim, California to table and promote a new project, and the thought occurred to me that nose-picking is fundamentally no different than making comics. Once shunned by society as a “low brow” art form or pastime, but capable of enjoying mainstream success with an influx of thousands to a plethora of annual conventions. The booger museum full of different specimens that the writer/artist imagines is little different than a Comic-Con, with diehards and civilians alike gawking at all the wares and indulging in their interests among their extended tribe. Ruoki bounces visually between more traditional panel to panel storytelling with vibrant colors, and some lovely rough-hewn black and white images with thicker bold lines, almost mirroring the more socially acceptable hobbies being in the colorful spotlight, with outliers on the fringe still peeking out from the shadows. The final page punctuates the book’s core message; we all have our own kink, be it sexual, bodily functions, the type of media we consume, or different hobbies and passions. In our own way, we are all “soothing the kitten inside our nostril.”

Accept by Andy Leuenberger (Mini Kus! #140)

Accept opens with urgency, using garish red and green and black and white colors reminiscent of Christmas that fluidly ebb and flow with power and balance. Leuenberger eschews the use of words in the story and showcases a playful format for the page layouts that have action extending beyond the confines of the panel borders, at times in an almost recursive grid. The vibe of the experimentation feels irreverent in the best way, not disrespectful or flaunting its abilities, but challenging the norms of what is possible in the medium. The two figures continue contending, eventually pulling back to reveal they’re playing a sort of 3-dimensional strategic simulation game, and I was so pleasantly surprised to see 24 panels nicely fit into the diminutive size of this mini-comic! The figures continue to morph into near-skeletal visages by the end, their battle ultimately either breaking the field of game play or destroying each other and accepting their eventual fate. The open-ended resolution allows readers to interpret what happened, what’s next, and the ultimate meaning.

BLJ by Leo Fox (Mini Kus! #139)

If you informed a prospective reader that this book was superficially about a video game, it would belie the hidden universal truths examined within. I loved the wide-ranging cultural nods, from mid-90’s Super Mario 64, to audio illusions, the infamous work by Rene Magritte, classic cinema, and all the way back around to the gorgeous wraparound cover that mimics the immersive free-roaming gaming experience that the N64 game offered. The Infinite Staircase of Super Mario is examined in a way that ultimately makes it a metaphor for life. We are all hamsters running on the interactive wheel of life, driving toward some unmeetable goal, stuck in the illusion of forever improvement or ascendancy. If Leo Fox stopped there, it would already be a stark, fun reminder about the destination not being the point, and stopping to be present and enjoy the journey, of finding moments for our own illusive happiness in the proverbial rat race of modern existence. But, Leo Fox goes further. With thick figures and bold inky pages that soak up the somber blues and purples and crimsons, they seem to emphasize the very weight of our existence, the visual colors and shadows of oppression! There’s an allegory to be had about transition and renewal in the human body itself; and the inclusion of a clever hack in the game suggest there may also be a hack for navigating our own real-life existence. Reject the premise. Break the paradigm. This leads to freedom. By “conceding failure” on one path (as the book phrases it), you can often jump tracks to another more fruitful path. Sometimes things need to be broken first in order to be truly repaired. I thoroughly enjoyed this and was delighted to flip the book over to find the January 2026 publication date, because that means it’s an early contender for one of my favorite books of the year.