Lightfall Book One: The Girl And The Galdurian by Tim Probert

“You seem like the curious type. That makes for a good adventurer.”

Ready for ancient forces and the threat of eternal darkness? This time it's in the form of a charming new series called Lightfall (Harper Alley) by Tim Probert. Book one is The Girl and The Galdurian, has our protagonist Bea, pulled out of the safety of home on a quest to find her uncle who has recklessly set off on his own quest. Although Bea is fired up with moral sense of right and protective love for her uncle, she’s also plagued with fears and self-doubt.  Fortunately, she’s accompanied by a helpful stranger known as Cad, an unusual creature who has boundless levels of optimism and sense of adventure; plus, as we soon discover, he has an important link to a bigger story at work.

The art is charming, with a lovely autumnal colour palette and deftly handles some nice moments of comedy as well as hinting at the darker elements to presumably come in future volumes. Cal has a nice simplicity to him reflected in his design while Bea’s fears are aptly conveyed thru her large eyes and the wisps of darkness that gather around her as she become frightened. The book could have been subtitled How To Be Brave because Probert handles this theme nicely, never making Bea's fears exaggerated or improbable – at one point when she lists her concerns Cal says “Sure, any of that could happen.” The key is to not ignore them but look beyond them.

A story that retains a sense of drama without becoming grim, a decent page count plus a lovely cover makes this is a great book for younger readers.

Gamayun Tales II: An Anthology Of Modern Russian Folk Tales by Alexander Utkin

“I will give you the fire… but you must give me something in return. Something valuable.”

Folklore tales can feel like a series of odd, logic-defying events where the focus is on what peculiar thing happens next, rather than the modern leaning towards story arcs and character motivation. For Gamayun Tales II (Nobrow), Alexander Utkin continues to adapt Russian folklore with warmth and charm creating a world where the magical and seemingly haphazard can occur believably and with measured pacing.

Collected in this volume are two stories narrated by the human-faced bird Gamayun. The first features a young girl seeking life-saving fire from the legendary witch Baba-Yaga and in the second a quest falls to sons of a dying King who needs magical golden apples. Both tales feature not only a similar starting premise, but also many familiar elements of fairy stories, however Utkins treads the line perfectly between not straying from what’s comforting in those tropes, and also making them feel freshly presented.

The coloured-pencil-style art is all ages friendly with flowing lines and bold, rich colouring, with perfectly clear storytelling and a style that feels classical. This is important because the other aspect of old folk tales is that they are often littered with dark moments whereas nowadays All Ages stories tend to be a little less disturbing. Through the art and story focus, Utkins handles this perfectly and while Gamayun warns at the beginning that “Sometimes my tales may appear a little scary. But I’d rather say exciting”, the true measure of his approach comes in the epilogue to the first story which ends on a final page which manages to be both dark and yet beautifully poetic (don't worry, I won't spoil it).

One last point; it's lovely how all the folk tales cross over with one another - whether it be a character or item - and each story has points at which a new story can start. The Gamayun then promises to tell the reader that story some other time - it gives a sense of overflowing stories tumbling out of the book. 

Venus In The Blind by Junji Ito

 “It’s because that creepy woman just licked me.”

The horror genre must be a tricky one for the comics medium. Compared to a movie, comics can’t do sudden shocks, or build tension as easily with those suffocating silences, or discordant music, and novels are probably the more effective medium at trapping you in the perspective of the protagonist. What you do get with comics is disturbing imagery; sequential art moves the story forward but also allows that single chilling image to register in the readers’ brain as long as you wish to linger on it – even if you’d rather not.

Junji Ito is known to his fans for producing disturbing Manga series such as Uzumaki and Tomie and Gyo. Venus In The Blind Spot (Viz) collects ten of his short stories showcasing his eye for a really disturbing image and nose for story ideas that range from the faintly chilling to genuinely haunting. A detailed, realistic artwork style means that exaggerated expressions can be even more unsettling – eyes that are too wide, a grimace that is too toothy – but also means that the physical afflictions on the characters can be ‘appreciated’.

This is really nicely edition too; a slightly smaller-sized hardcover with a striking dust jacket, predominantly in black white but also with a few coloured pages. Aside from one autobiographical story about Ito’s love of horror Manga from childhood (although, even that has a playful style that feels creepy), this book is an excellent example of horror ‘what if…?’ stories and a masterclass at how they can be achieved in the comics medium.

Seance Tea Party by Reimena Yee

“I’m not ready to let go of the things that make me happy.”

There’s a touch of magic in Seance Tea Party (RHGraphic) and it's not just with the inclusion of ghosts and fairies; it's in how it takes deep themes about coping with the passing of time, maturing and change, all with a lightness of touch that doesn’t feel mawkish or preachy – and in a way that conveys the joy of being young while encouraging the march towards adulthood.

Lora is losing her friends to a teenage world of partners and parties which doesn’t interest her as she would rather be playing. When her birthday seems to have been ignored by her best friend, she holds a séance tea party with her toys to cheer herself up and inadvertently evokes the ghost of a girl named Alexa. The ghost is looking for recognition and a playmate and Lora is in need of an understanding friend – both are avoiding moving on in their life journeys.

The plot grows with the inclusion of another character that allows for larger the themes to develop particularly through Alexa’s story, taking the book to deeper levels. As the story inevitably moves towards the need to let go and move on, it never becomes maudlin or over-sentimental. This isn’t just because of writer-artist Reimena Yee’s deft handling of the dialogue, but also the beautiful lightness to the illustrations. It feels less like reading and more like flowing through the story, with swirling images filled with movement and a restless mix of panels and larger pictures littered with leaves or cute doodles in the margins. There’s a nice six-page sequence of wordless storytelling near the beginning which shows the gang of girls reducing in number over time until Lora is left by herself.

This a lovely book for younger readers, particularly if they have any concerns about leaving behind childish ways, but older readers may also find value in the wisdom on offer – even if the message is familiar, rarely is it presented so charmingly. 

Little Bird by Darcy Van Poelgeest and Ian Bertram

 "Choose your life carefully, Little Bird."

Ahhh that exciting, sometimes infuriating alchemy in comics regarding what illustrations bring to the writing. A good story is a good story, but excellent art will lift all levels of writing – it is, after all, a visual medium. In Little Bird (Image Comics), the writing by Darcy Van Poelgeest is very good. It’s a story that feels both large in scale, but also intensely personal for the titular protagonist, mixing her role in building a resistance against a violent oppressive regime with her discovery about her bloody heritage. With an opening which drops you at a crucial point, a la Star Wars, and never really lets up, the storytelling is brilliantly concise but never rushed – there’s a confidence here that belies the fact that this is Van Poelgeest’s first work in comics.

With all the nightmarish violence, themes of religion and the fact that it's science fiction, it’s a story that could have come from the mind of Alejandro Jodorowsky. But just as Jodorowsky was blessed to work with the extraordinary illustrator Moebius, artist Ian Bertram has really elevated Little Bird into something special. Reminiscent of Frank Quitely but with added expressionism, the art is detailed with delicate line-work but always manages to convey energy and movement and weight. The sequential art storytelling is also exemplary; there is one plot-point that had me re-reading the pages to marvel at how beautifully it was executed. All elements to the story are enhanced, whether it’s the violence (bloody and extreme), the horror (lots of entrails, religious imagery and those spooky eyes), suspense, or the moments of dream-like surrealism. At the same time, Bertram has designed a world that looks other-worldly yet Earthly, ancient but futuristic.

The one niggle is a visually slightly messy cover to this edition, but otherwise this is an stunning example of the medium, deservedly winning an Eisner award for best limited series.

Folklords by Matt Kindt and Matt Smith

 “The once upon a time is real. Trust me.”

Are we all familiar with the troupes of Tolkienesque fantasy worlds of trolls and elves and quests? Are we tired of them yet? Of course not, apart from the limitless scope for adventure, they’re such wonderful allegorical and metaphorical vehicles for age-old themes of finding oneself and accepting differences etc. Folklords (Boom! Studios) manages to find another spin on the genre. Eighteen-year-old Ansel is the archetypal young adult in such stories feeling like he doesn't belong which is driving his desire to seek adventure. This time our young protagonist looks so alien in his environment because he looks so familiar to us – he’s wearing a black suit and tie. The reason for this is that he’s been having dreams about our world, one of buildings and cars and gadgets, and he's been copying the things he remembers from it. It’s a delicious side-note of intrigue to the story as Ansel establishes and sets off on a quest to find the supposed mythical Folklords whilst avoiding the fascist regime of The Librarians.

Matt Smith’s artwork has a really nice All Ages simplicity to it, but his time working on Hellboy and the BPRD has honed his eye for heightening gothic and creepy moments from the story and its environment including some genuinely dark Brothers Grimm-type scenes which manage to never rely on gore. The characters are all engaging, and the plot remains intriguing although it does lose a little of its charm as the story becomes more cynically self-aware. Also, the final chapters feature such a flurry of ideas that it can feel rather rushed. But there’s more than enough here to maintain interest in this beautifully realised ongoing series. It will be fascinating to see where writer Matt Kindt is heading with it all. Fascist Librarians? Megalomaniacal folk-lords (i.e. writers)? A protagonist dreaming of a land away from fantasy-troupe characters? Maybe the biggest spin on the genre here is the suggestion that we should be shedding some of these age-old forms of myth and story.

The Winter of the Cartoonists by Paco Roca

 “These are rough times to have dreams.”

Imagine a time when comics were such big business that a handful of creators who were tired of not owning the rights to the work they produced, the editorial interference and the paltry financial recompense, decided to take the risk of breaking away from the publishing house they worked for and launch their own title. The last time this sort of thing happened was in the early nineties when seven creators tired of the Marvel-DC machine, broke away to successfully form Image Comics. The true events recounted in The Winter of the Cartoonists (Fantagraphics) are similar only in its idealistic venture.

The book is set in the late fifties, when Editorial Bruguera was the most successful publishing house of weekly comics and magazines in Spain and retained all rights to artists work in a way that seemed to reflect the political climate of a country that had been through a civil war. Five highly regarded creators were willing to risk what little they earned to begin Tio Vivo magazine but found their dreams crushed by their former employer. This isn’t a spoiler, by the way; the book flits between 1958 with the creators having to accept returning to Bruguera, and 1957, when they were filled with enthusiasm for their new venture.

This is obviously quite a disheartening subject but Eisner Award-Winning (for The House) creator Paco Roca handles it in an interesting way languishing in the friendship of the characters and the ambience of the era. Discussions about contracts and creative freedom are mixed with chats about cigar smoke, wives, food and office flirtations. At one point a background character notices a turn in the weather and gets a panel all to themselves of putting up an umbrella. There’s a lovely, comforting feel to the clean-lined genial expressions in the characters body language.

The theme of dashed dreams and sacrifices is universal, and Roca doesn’t lose sight of this with genuinely touching final scenes. One is left considering the fact that if this happened during a time of buoyancy in the comics market, what must it be like for comic creators today?

Paying The Land by Joe Sacco

“What is the worldview of a people who mumble no thanks or prayers, who take what they want from the land and pay it back with arsenic?”

There’s a moment in Paying The Land (Jonathan Cape) when someone the author is interviewing is not happy to discover that the subject he is there to talk about will be turned into a comic. He complains that “it’s not a cartoon. It’s not a joke.” This comment spoke of his ignorance about the medium – graphic novels have for a long time, proved to be a powerful way of conveying even the most traumatic events in history as Art Spiegelman famously demonstrated with Maus (1991) about the Nazi persecution of the Jews. What the interviewee was no doubt also unaware of, is that he was talking to Joe Sacco, probably the most highly-regarded comics reporters in the business thanks to work such as Palestine (2002), Safe Area Gorazde (2000) and Footnotes in Gaza (2009).

This latest book is set in the Canadian Northwest Territories where the Dene people have lived for centuries. It is a story of the relationship between people and land. The Dene have always lived off the land but now the modern age brings new needs from that land; that of oil, gas and diamonds. It’s about rights, ownership and natures balance, as well tradition and cultural heritage. There is a bigger story at work of course, questioning mankind’s place on earth, what our values are and about the inevitability of change.

This is a dense book, filled with debates, legal technicalities and history, all hung heavily around personal accounts and viewpoints. The risk is that it could feel emotionally un-involving, but Sacco has also done an impressive job with the art, filling the pages with people and faces that all feel unique and carefully rendered (contrasted by his own familiar cartoony, blank spectacled self-representation). Sacco also shows impressive versatility, evocatively capturing the snowy landscape, animals, machinery and expert crowd compositions. The obvious care and craft put into the artwork is a poignant reminder of how the medium allows an artist to not only tell a story but portray its importance.

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist by Adrian Tomine

“I will spank YOUR ass!!”

Few sequential artists manage to capture everyday life with such a simple sense of realism and yet, considering the supposed absence of “style”, still manages to be instantly recognisable in a way that has their work gracing album covers and The New Yorker. Adrian Tomine has been writing and illustrating short stories about relationships since the late 90’s in titles including Optic Nerve, Shortcomings and Summer Blonde. His most recent work entitled Killing and Dying had novelist Zadie Smith singing his praises in a review. He’s what you might call an important creator within the medium of graphic novels. But what does that mean to the outside world? Well, pretty much nothing in a world where superheroes dominate popular culture and yet you’d be hard-pressed to find someone on the street who could name five comics creators.

In The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist (Faber and Faber), Tomine recalls incidences throughout his career that will have you wincing at the misfortune, rudeness and ignorance that can befall an overly sensitive creator, not just in everyday life, but also within the industry itself. No-show signings, awkward interviews and mispronouncing’s of his name are mixed with equally uncomfortable moments in his personal life, bringing us to an final vignette that manages to dovetail everything with insight and reflection on his life.

Clear concise storytelling, in small six-panel grids per page, deftly convey both place and the emotional weight of the characters with just a hint of cartoony style to accentuate the humour or absurdity when necessary. The format of the book is lovely; like a moleskin notebook complete with rounded corners, grid-lined pages, ribbon bookmark and elastic strap to stop it opening with closes. It perfectly captures a sense of peeking into Tomine’s private journal. 

Fire Power by Robert Kirkman & Chris Samnee

“I’ve learned all I can… down there.”

The problem with launching a new series is that it’s extremely hard to get new readers invested in a new character and story over just one issue. Even a writer as prolific and popular as Robert Kirkman (The Walking Dead amongst a ton of others) has to come up with new tricks. So instead of releasing six monthly issues and then collecting them into a book (when some titles may find themselves cancelled due to poor sales by then anyway), his newest series has been released as an original graphic novel first, after which subsequent issues will follow.

Reading very much like an origin story for a superhero, Fire Power (Image/Skybound) is an action-adventure series revolving around martial arts and ancient mystical powers – think Iron Fist without the millionaire inheritance. Kirkman has said that he was aiming for an 80’s style lightness of touch and was drawing on some familiar sources, and yes, the troupes are played with including a trek across snowy mountains to the temple, an old master who wears a baseball cap and sports trainers and listens to Radiohead, a bully who takes an instant dislike to our hero, meditating whilst balancing on poles, some shaolin-style basketball. And it all leads to big invasion and mass smackdown which leads the way for forward time jump to the present where the comic series will follow on.

A former Daredevil artist, Chris Samnee has an assured eye for capturing dramatic poses and the sense of movement for martial arts.

Note: The intention was to release the first issue proper as a freebie for free comic book day. Thanks to the pandemic FCBD didn’t happen as comic shops were closed, so instead, for a limited time, each graphic novel comes with a copy of the next issue

THE GOLDEN AGE by Roxanne Moreil & Cyril Pedrosa

“You can’t change the natural order of the world.”

It’s rare for a book to be truly for all ages, striking a balance between making the characters and plot for younger readers to relate to, but also edifying for older readers and for any action sequences to feel dramatic without being explicit. The Golden Age: Book One (First Second) achieves this balancing act along with glorious levels of comics artwork. Set in a fictional version of the medieval era, The Golden Age refers to a Utopian society of fairness and equality that was long ago replaced by a more familiar system of class structure and subjugation. When the young Princess Tilda is on the verge of inheriting her late father’s kingdom, she is usurped and banished with just two allies for company. Whilst in the forest, Tilda is struck by a vision of herself dressed as warrior – she decides it’s her destiny to reclaim the throne and free the populace from oppression.

But what version of leadership would that entail? This is the theme that drives the book alongside the moments of danger and intrigue – Tilda’s ideas of simply ruling better are challenged, testing the loyalty of one of her companions which reflects the concerns of the reader. This is where the book differs from the archetypal fairy story, in it's posing of philosophical questions.

Although The Golden Age is writer Roxanne Moreil’s first graphic novel, she comes from a background that is steeped in the French comics scene as a bookseller and as part of comics collective in publishing. The art by Cyril Pedrosa is stunning. The detailed linework feels as if it has been etched into stone tablets but the extraordinary colour palette is used not only to fill the space, but also of the linework itself, sometimes giving it the apearanc of coloured thread in a tapestry. The opening pages following characters talking in a forest is ablaze in reds and oranges making it feel as though we’ve joined a world on fire. Pedrosa has worked for Disney in the past and there’s a beautifully flowing expressiveness to his characters that brings to mind old Disney cartoons of The Sword In The Stone and Jungle Book era.

That’s not to say the book feels like a storyboard for a movie. The use of panel sizes and framing are exemplary and the frequent double page spreads (suitably displayed in the large hardcover format) of characters travelling through the land give the story an epic sense of scale. They’re also brilliantly employed to heighten the wordless denouement, leaving a suitably dramatic cliff-hanger for the second and final volume. If it’s as good as this one, the series deserves to be hailed a modern classic. 

DEAD EYES by Gerry Duggan & John McCrea

“I got pajama-piercing bullets!”

Modern day Robin Hood’s are a great theme for the action genre addressing the frustrations of the wealth divide while having the all fun of a villain. Dead Eyes (Image) was one such righteous renegade who, we are told, was labelled as a masked criminal during a spree of robberies in the 1990’s. Then he disappeared, seemingly after one last job where he stole millions of dollars from a mob boss. Except he wasn’t responsible on that occasion and had actually given it all up to look after his wheelchair-bound girlfriend. Now he’s forced out of retirement due to a moment of moral obligation and, more importantly, he’s not earning enough in his regular job to cover the mounting medical bills. Both reasons feel real and relevant enough to ground the story as well as affording the central character just enough sympathy as he punches shoots his way through anyone that gets in his way.

Artist John McCrea worked on Garth Ennis’s Hitman series in the 90’s, and he brings a loose kinetic style which captures the pace and action. The simple but effective design for Dead Eyes will surely have TV and movie commissioning editors sniffing round for their next project. Although the book is essentially serious, Gerry Duggan was a writer for Marvel’s Deadpool and when Dead Eyes pulls on the mask, his dialogue is shot-through with the same humour – minus the nihilistic craziness. However, Duggan doesn’t lose sight of the moral argument here: Who are the villains: Dead Eyes’ victims? Dead Eyes himself for choosing violence? The Hospital company for overcharging its patients?

There are only four issues in this opening collection, but it has dramatic punch, humour and heart.

SECOND COMING by Mark Russell & Richard Pace

The main headline here is that this is the series that DC succumbed to pressure to cancel before the first issue was released. Ironically, the DC imprint Vertigo was eventually closed and Second Coming (Ahoy Comics) found a new publisher.

The story that religious campaigners took issue with involves a very human God – with volatile temper and ego – who feels that while he knows how to use his own power, his son Jesus wastes his by rejecting it for his belief in non-interventionist peace and forgiveness. Initially reluctant to send Jesus to Earth again for his education (given how things turned out the last time, some 2000 years ago) God spots the activities of Earth’s mightiest hero Sunstar and asks him to allow Jesus to move in with him so that he can teach him to make use of his power.

This conceit has mismatched couple comedy written all over it but writer Mark Russell doesn’t indulge in it too much beyond an early outing when Jesus accompanies Sunstar on a raid of a villain’s lair. While this is a humorous book, Russell has plenty of serious points to make in his exploration of religion and the responsibility of power. As we’ve seen from other examples over the years (Garth Ennis has been there with The Pro and Preacher), normalising superheroes or grounding religious deities can be comical and thought-provoking. With Second Coming, Russell has mixed the two which adds depth to the idea of mythology and parables and how they can be misinterpreted and manipulated to suit our own purposes or teach us universal truths about life.

Artistically the book is excellent. For the sections involving just God or Jesus, we have Richard Pace’s sketchy-looking artwork ably capturing both a tone for both human forms and flashbacks of religious events. With the sections involving Sunstar, superhero comic regular Leonard Kirk finishes Pace’s art to give it that recognisable superhero comic look. At once it captures the way two worlds are colliding, but ones which seem to belong together.

For all the complaints DC received about the idea behind Second Coming, the final product is refreshingly clean-cut, wrapping insightful philosophical debate with a delicate mix of absurd humour and drama.

SNUG by Catana Chetwynd

There is a long tradition of short one-to-three panel comics about the nuances of love and relationships, such as the Love Is… series created by Kim Casali inspired by the love notes she used to leave for her future husband. They tended to feature serious observations about what makes love work along with a drawing of a cute couple always shown in the nude bizarrely (well it was the 1960’s). Snug (Andrews McMeel Publishing) collecting work from Catana Chetwynd’s popular webcomic as well as 50 percent new material, beautifully follows this tradition in its own way. Instead of the lessons, we get recreations of cute moments between her and her boyfriend John.

Chetwynd’s self-taught artwork is confident and appealing with cute exaggerated renditions of herself and her boyfriend (forget Baby Yoda, here we have Baby Admiral Ackbar) which is the secret to the how affecting they are.

Whether or not you’re in a position to recognise the feelings and your own variations of those moments, it’s difficult not to feel inspired to give in to any goofy romantic notions you have. Maybe they all point to one important lesson: it doesn’t matter how love is expressed or experienced as long as it is. Fight complacency folks!