Heathen 2

by Natasha Alterici and Rachel Deering (letters)
collects Heathen #5-8
volume reviews: one | two | three [complete]

The queer viking fantasy Heathen quickly ascended its humble Kickstarter beginnings to become a huge hit. The debut book, both written and drawn by Natasha Alterici, was not only picked up by publisher Vault Comics, but we might see Aydis and her viking world portrayed on the big screen, as Alterici also snagged a movie deal.

Thankfully, regardless of its newfound fame and adoration, the second volume of Heathen expands on the enchanting and dark Norse fantasy world, building on the best of what the first installment had to offer. Aydis’ quest to subdue Odin’s grip on the mortal world (read: the patriarchy) takes her seaward, with a most excellent and queer captain and pirate crew, but her actions have caught the attention of the All-Father, who intends on stopping this new threat. We also continue to follow immortals Brynhild and Freyja whose own efforts to resist are met with varying degrees of success.

Alterici takes a a step back from clearly laying out the metaphors in the book (a weakness of the first volume), leaning more into the mythology fantasy and storytelling; the metaphors are still there, but it’s a more engrossing and authentic read. She has a very strong voice for talking animals and mythical creatures, remaining a strong point of the story as we both revisit some and meet new – it gives the fantasy world an amusing yet dangerous and unpredictable tone that’s very intriguing. (I name dropped Gaiman as a comparison last time and it still holds.) I was hoping we’d run into the two dogs again, hopefully they’ll make an appearance in the next volume.

Fans of queer comics and literature will love the diverse, all female/nonbinary pirate crew who liberate slaves from other pirates. Is it a bit unrealistic that Aydis would *immediately* stumble upon this kind of crew? Yes, but WHO CARES IT’S GLORIOUS.  Most importantly, Aydis grows as a character away from her immortal companions (whose bigger personalities overshadowed her own) and makes high-stakes errors necessary for a true protagonist, especially in a fantasy story. I wasn’t sure if Aydis could carry the story on her own, but in this volume, she reclaims the role of protagonist in Heathen.

The weakest aspect for me was Freyja and Odin’s meta conversation about Why The World Is The Way It Is. It’s where Alterici puts her patriarchy metaphor, which, while more effective than last volume, still made the story drag. I also had trouble following a few minor plot points, such as a character death and the captain finding out something important about Aydis, but this could be due to a significant amount of time between reading volumes.

Alterici’s art skills have grown tremendously since the last volume – which was already an impressive feat – and it’s already a huge accomplishment to both write and illustrate a comic book. Visual standouts during the volume include really beautiful scenes on the pirate ship as well as underwater, and lovely sepia tone lighting in a scene between Freyja and Brynhild.

And just like last time, most of the women are sparsely dressed because of their strength and respective cultures – Aydis actually explains her lack of armor in a scene – to subvert the patriarchy in their world, as well as the male gaze in our own. Alterici does a beautiful job showing a lot of skin in a way that feels both natural and empowering for her female protagonists.

When I reviewed the first volume, I said the colors were too muted for the story, but my opinion has changed on this. The color palette still leans heavily on neutrals, but I’ve come to realize that it fits the Norse mythology world and is a nice match for the story. Moreover, Alterici’s use of dramatic shadows and highlights, as well as her overall improvement in this volume, helps offset the lack of color. But I still stand by this prediction: we’ll see more color if Aydis successfully unseats Odin.

According to Hollywood Reporter, Ashley A Woods will be joining as Heathen’s artist beginning with the next arc. Alterici was dealing with hand pain, which was the cause of Heathen’s hiatus last year, so this will help Alterici focus on the very important task of healing her hand, while still directing the writing and overall story. It will be interesting to see how the shift to a two person team might impact the series. Regardless, I highly recommend the series and impatiently waiting for volume three.

Snow, Glass, Apples

by Neil Gaiman and Colleen Doran
graphic novel

There are just some books that you know are going to be a home run as soon as you pick them up. Neil Gaiman has been an all-time favorite writer for a long time, and basically the reason I became a fantasy reader. But bias aside, anyone can tell you that he is a master of the dark side of fantasy that just bleeds into horror, particularly when it comes to mythology (American Gods, Anansi Boys, Norse Mythology). Gaiman of course is no stranger to the comic book world either, most notably his masterpiece Sandman, Batman comics, and prose adaptations.

So it’s no surprise that Snow, Glass, Apples is Gaiman’s bread and butter and he delivers in every way you’d expect, even though the story is originally from 1994. Gaiman’s Snow White retelling is a tight 88 pages, and while it retains the familiar beats of its original, Gaiman completely flips the narrative on its head.

In this version, the Queen is a more sympathetic protagonist, with the story told entirely from her point of view, though it’s often a cold and distant voice. Thankfully, she is less preoccupied with being “fairest of them all,” and instead is threatened by her creepy stepdaughter who feeds on blood. But of them all, Prince Charming gets the gold medal for most disturbing reboot. No one is free from the terrible choices they make and there’s most certainly no happy ending from the Disney film. That being said, it’s not gory/sexual/disturbing for its own sake – it’s necessary for the kind of story that Gaiman and Doran are telling. Most importantly, this story is NOT for children – like Fables, this shouldn’t go in the children’s section.

But even with all these changes, Snow, Glass, Apples still reads like an authentic story, instead of forcing in plot and character changes, or even drawing attention to those similarities. (When you come across one, it’s like a nod and a wink, rather than a blaring LOOK AT WHAT I DID, GREAT WRITER OVER HERE!) If you gave SGA to someone who’d read Gaiman books but had never heard of Snow White, they wouldn’t even know it’s an adaptation. It feels like a Gaiman book through and through. He is such a master of this that it’s kind of upsetting. In the best way.

Colleen Doran’s art creates a dark, chilly atmosphere as she brings Gaiman’s story to life. The meticulous, ornate detailing on dresses, stained glass and backgrounds are stunning, especially since Doran wrote in an afterword that most of it was done by hand – and she redrew almost half of the pages to make sure it was perfect. The erotic scenes and nudity were very well done too and not at all gratuitous.

Most of the book doesn’t use panels, with the story flowing from one text or series of images to the next, reflecting the Queen’s stream of consciousness. A lot of effort clearly went into laying out the pages so that how to follow along was still clear, and I never once felt lost. Doran uses this “stream of consciousness” aspect to her advantage, creating a unique and visceral tone to each page that really feels like a fairy tale, instead of a more rigid sequential format. Along with Gaiman’s warm prose, it truly feels like a story being told to you – even if that story is grotesque and creepy as all hell.

Snow, Glass, Apples is a perfect Halloween read and a must for dark fairytales and Neil Gaiman fans. The book might be short but the impression lasts well beyond it.

The White Trees #1

by Chip Zdarsky, Kris Anka and Matt Wilson
issue one

White Trees, a fantasy story following three men in search of their abducted children, focuses on the meaning of fatherhood and masculinity. At least, I think that’s what the focus is.

Our three protagonists, Krylos, Scotiar and Dahvlan, are legendary heroes who must cross enemy lines to find their kids, with plenty of baggage and unresolved tension in tow. It’s an intriguing story but the premise is still pretty simple; the characters and monsters were pretty much standard fantasy, including only one woman in the book, who left a greater impression despite her brief appearance.

The art was the highlight of the book, because artist Kris Anka and colorist Matt Wilson can do no wrong. Anka draws men really well, regardless of body shape which is really quite fantastic, and his light kinetic style really works in the fantasy genre. I love the costuming and the character designs feel very modern even though it takes place in a fantasy world. Wilson uses a rich and mostly warm color palette, and he uses all black backgrounds with Kyros often to show his mental state.

Some reviews on Goodreads complain about “smut” which is misguided criticism. Yes, there are explicit sex scenes, pretty much a given with Zdarsky and Anka. But I would imagine most of the discomfort is due to the male nudity and queer sex (I’ve never seen a man call a comic with tons of T&A “smutty”). Like I said, Anka draws men *really* well. But more importantly, the scene does give us some character development, but not quite enough that it seemed necessary. At least, not yet – the same could have been said in early volumes of Saga. (It’s also amusing that the “mature readers” warning is on the back.)

I hope we see more scenes and dialogue that forms a cohesive message about masculinity and being a father, particularly since Kyros has become a pacifist, and Scotiar and Dahvlan are a couple.

With all the table setting I don’t feel fully invested just yet. It certainly doesn’t feel like the story is halfway done, and hopefully this will become an ongoing series – a big reason why I bought the single issue instead of waiting for the trade!

Gender Queer: A Memoir

by Maia Kobabe
graphic novel

Maia Kobabe, who uses e/em/eir pronouns, shares eir personal journey as an asexual and nonbinary person. Growing up in a time that didn’t have the language, resources, or community of a genderqueer movement that exists today, Maia had to struggle on eir own to understand eir gender, dating, pronouns and feeling at home in eir body.

Maia’s account of eir life story is raw and boldly honest, explaining how e went through several stages of self discovery and understanding, finally embracing a gender identity and sexuality that fit for em – and then the stages of asking others to accept em as well. Eir honesty and sometimes self deprecating amusement of eir past helps lighten the pervasive struggle and confusion e endured on a daily basis. E shares to a degree that many of us might not be comfortable exposing to the masses, regardless of our gender identity or sexuality, but e does so to help educate others about the experience of being genderqueer in a society rooted in a binary, even though acceptance of multiple genders exist across many cultures and religions throughout history. (Maia knew e was stepping into the limelight, welcoming questions with an adorable “I did volunteer for this” in an interview.)

As Maia chronicles eir childhood through becoming an adult, e shares eir confusion regarding dating and relationships (e first identifies as bisexual), fantasies that e later could define as kinks, whether e is transgender or something else, and the overall erasure of nonbinary folks in American society. This is so important for those who might assume being asexual means no relationship with sex at all. Similarly, Maia honestly portrays eir family as open, honest and understanding, but is also unflinching about eir family’s struggle to accept em at times.

The most devastating part of the book for me was Maia’s recounting of eir traumatizing appointments with the gynecologist, a searing look into how the medical world was (ans probably still is) woefully ill equipped to be compassionate and understanding towards genderqueer folks. These pages took my breath away and brought me to tears. Even though Maia is able to better express emself on the second visit, the appointment is still awful and dehumanizing.

But along with eir overall journey, Maia also shares eir love of slash fan fiction, fantasy books and becoming an artist. Gender and sexuality are, of course, formative to all of our identities, but Maia is sure to include eir whole sense of self. Maia was consistently surrounded by meaningful friendships and a supportive family, particularly Maia’s (also queer!) sister Phoebe who helps eir with an underwear issue.

Maia’s art feels simple but realistic enough to look rooted in reality. The layouts range from the standard nine-panel progression to beautiful and creative layouts as well as one page spreads. E uses block lettering that feels like handwriting that sometimes loops into cursive during important moments. Maia grew up on a 120 acre property in Northern California, and e often uses metaphors rooted in nature to explain eir struggles. The palette is mostly colorful and bright with lots of greens and yellows.

This book helps cis and non-asexual folks like myself start to understand how pervasive, destructive and literally painful the gender binary is to folks who don’t fit in that binary (which, thanks to my privilege, is more everywhere than I ever realized, and must be destroyed immediately). How it affects not just dating and romantic relationships, as some might assume, but every moment of one’s life, living in one’s body, using and hearing pronouns that don’t fit one’s sense of self. And I can’t even imagine how much Maia’s honest story means to genderqueer folks, who may have felt just as alone and confused as Maia before picking up eir book. Being seen and not feeling alone is powerful, as all minorities will attest to – and Maia also experiences emself.

Non-binary pronouns are still relatively new (particularly those outside they/them/their), Maia’s memoir is an important guide for non-genderqueer and/or non-asexual folks on how to empathize and be better allies, even if you’re queer; for parents who want to be sensitive to providing their children spaces to explore their gender; for medical professionals; and for all genderqueer folks to feel seen and heard.

PS – I did my best to use the Spivak pronouns but it’s new to me – my apologies if I used incorrect pronouns, please let me know in the comments if I did!

Pumpkinheads

by Rainbow Rowell and Faith Erin Hicks
graphic novel

Pumpkinheads is a sweet, lighthearted autumn story from dream team Rainbow Rowell (Runaways) and Faith Erin Hicks (Friends with Boys). It’s perfect for YA readers, fans of the fall season, and anyone looking for a short, heartwarming story.

It’s the evening of Halloween, and Deja and Josiah’s last night working at the Patch. The two have been working together every autumn at the Patch’s Succotash Hut throughout high school – next year they’ll be in college. Deja convinces Josiah to ditch the hut and finally talk to the cute girl at the Fudge Shoppe, whom Josiah has been pining after for years, and it leads them on one last snack and friendship filled adventure through the Patch.

Rowell and Hicks, individually, are masters of developing sincerely authentic characters who are easy to root for. So it’s special to see their powers combined in Deja and Josiah, whose friendship is central to Pumpkinheads. Deja became an immediate favorite with her easy confidence, witty nicknames for Fudge Shoppe Girl, and love of fall themed snacks (after the Patch, Deja should really look into being a crew member at Trader Joe’s). But most of all, Deja is far more than just a few minority-defining adjectives, and her dedication to Josie despite their differences was both endearing and believable.

Josie is a perfect counterpart to Deja; he’s more hesitant and passive than she is, but deeply caring about his job and his consecutive wins as best employee at the Patch. Their friendship is palpable, and the story goes in a surprising but meaningful direction when Josiah asserts the two were “meant to be friends,” while Deja insists that it’s a choice they each made all the time. Taking charge and creating your own opportunities in the midst of the end of an era, when things might feel out of one’s control, is a great message.

Deja and Josiah are relatable as high school seniors, but the two never used cellphones or referenced any kind of social media. Rowell’s choice to keep technology out of the story gives the book a sense of timelessness – it can’t ever be dated by its references. (Ironically, their mission of the night distracts them from a cute recurring gag.) Similarly, we never learn about Deja and Josie’s lives outside the Patch, and it’s unclear how much they know about each others’ actual lives. It allows us to stay focused on Deja and Josie’s last adventure, but also keeps us from really getting to know them.

Rowell’s prose books and her current Runaways series depicts characters who are authentic, but who are also complicated, have baggage, and form all sorts of dynamics with their peers. Pumpkinheads is enjoyable but also simple and predictable, since Deja and Josiah never show those other aspects – which, as teenagers, must exist to some degree. This book is likely intended for a younger audience, which is just fine, but was unexpected from Rowell.

Hicks has a very charming and original art style that fits perfectly with Rowell’s story and the drama of senior year. Characters are distinctive and expressive, and realistic enough that when a character is shocked, Hicks goes a little over the top for some great comedic effect. She really brings to life the charm of a pumpkin patch and the high point of fall, which is the best part of the book.  In the postscript interview, Hicks shared her appreciation that Rowell provided the script and emotional beats, but she had the freedom to decide pacing and panels, and I think that really helped the emotion of the final arc shine.

Sarah Stern fills in Hick’s art with a gorgeous warm fall color palette, though it starts to cool down as night approaches. Speaking of which, I love how over the course of the book, afternoon turns to sundown, twilight and dusk with stunning gradients in the background.

The book is slim for a graphic novel already, but that’s exacerbated even more with far too many breaks in the narrative – 17 title pages for new chapters. The divides allowed Deja and Josie to get to each location without having a bunch of transitionary panels or empty dialogue, though sometimes important things happen in between. However, the breaks were choppy, and missed an opportunity for more story instead of blank pages.

Overall, Pumpkinheads is one of the most enjoyable stories I’ve read in a while, and I only hope we can look forward to more Rowell and Hicks collaborations in the future.