Big Girls by Jason Howard. Image, 2021. 9781534318397. 144pp. Contains Big Girls #1 – 6. The last remnants of humanity are trying to start over in The Preserve, a city where giant women protect ordinary-sized people from giant monsters. The monsters are boys infected with the megaorganism, which changes them into mindless Jacks. Though they may not be as mindless as everyone thinks? Otherwise how would the mad scientist hellbent on destroying The Preserve get them to do what she wants? And the Jacks work together, and some even talk (though they’re not supposed to be able to). It’s clear something is about to change, but not necessarily for the better. And there’s a lot of oversized, building-wrecking violence that brings old monster movies to mind. I’ve loved Howard’s illustrations for a while (this looks more like Trees and Cemetery Beach than Super Dinosaur) and it’s great to see him both writing and drawing. This story has just the right level of crazy, and left me wanting more.

Factory Summers by Guy Delisle. Translated by Helge Dascher and Rob Aspinall. Drawn & Quarterly, 2021. 9781770464599. 156pp. At sixteen, Delisle was hired for a summer job at Quebec City’s pulp and paper mill, where his father had been working for thirty years. His first job, as a sixth hand on one of the machines producing newsprint, involved operating a crane that moved massive paper rolls, cleaning the alleyways between machines, and dealing with the large amounts of paper that broke and unspooled from the rolls onto the floor. (He had to push it into a space under the floor with something like a squeegee.) The work was tiring and noisy, and the factory was like a a deafening sauna where the only relief was a soundproof break shack. Delisle continued this summer job for years as he worked toward a career in animation and eventually comics. Many of the regular workers in the factory were a bit rough around the edges, though enough were odd and entertaining. And Delisle found a kind of joy in doing the difficult, sometimes dangerous tasks he was given, some of which required specific skills useful nowhere else. (It reminded me of the year I spent fixing cars in high school, a year during which I endured jokes, soaked myself repeatedly in dangerous chemicals, and learned to put up with the other mechanics’ senses of humor.) My favorite graphic novels by Delisle recount his time living in foreign countries: North Korea, China, Myanmar, and Israel. This one fits in well with those in that it gives a sense of what it was like to grow up in Quebec, and it’s even more personal. Loved it.

Trish Trash: Rollergirl of Mars The Collected Edition by Jessica Abel. Backgrounds and designs by Lydia Roberts, colors by Walter. SuperGenius, 2018. 9781545801666. 208pp. Trish isn’t quite old enough to join her local roller derby team, the Terror Novas, but that doesn’t stop her from skipping school to try out anyway. Trish’s skill at repairing technology gets her a gig as a skategirl, which isn’t exactly a place on the team but she’s pretty happy with it. But her aunt and uncle can’t believe she signed an intern contract — they need her help on their moisture farm. Marq can’t believe she signed away her rights, either — he’s a politically active vlogger with a progressive agenda (which will bring him unwanted attention from the corporation / government that runs things). As Trish tires of being treated as a slave, she helps a native Martian who is in need of water. Her kindness is repayed in two ways, with special skates for her and her teammates that allow them to practice in the dusty Martian landscape, and via the gift of a plant that helps harvest water. When Trish and her family try to use and spread the gifts, Marq tries to push an agenda of cooperation with the natives. But the authorities want to keep doing things the way they’ve always been done, which includes making the humans fear the Martians. I read the first volume of this story years ago, and somehow missed both that the series had finished and that this omnibus edition had been published. This was the first book I checked out after I was able to browse the Seattle Public Library’s shelves again in person this summer! And I like it as much as Abel’s previous graphic novels, Out on The Wire (about radio storytelling on your favorite NPR shows) and La Perdida (about an American woman living in Mexico City).

Crying in H-Mart: A Memoir by Michelle Zauner. Knopf, 2021. 9780525657743. 256pp. I’ve heard and read several interviews with Zauner since the book came out a few months back. My favorite is the one where she cooks with YouTube Korean cooking sensation Maangchi,in an event sponsored by Seattle’s Book Larder. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFXUlqUv4DU In the book, Zauner recounts the end of her Korean mother’s life, when she moved home to Eugene, Oregon, and helped care for her. Intermixed are moving stories about her and her mom and so many amazing descriptions of Korean food that it made me continuously sad and hungry. It’s worth noting there’s a lovely wedding in the book, too. I had to read this book slowly. Most evenings I couldn’t get through more than five pages without breaking down. It constantly reminded me of going to the store with my Korean mother-in-law, who lived with us until she died a few years ago. People used to stare at us open-mouthed when we walked down grocery store aisles together, arm-in-arm, an embarrassed smile on her face because of my arsenal of Korean curse words. It’s rare that memoirs feel so personal and close to home, and this is one of my favorites. I’m recommending it to everyone, and will be buying more than a few copies for birthdays in the coming years.

Old Head by Kyle Starks, colors by Chris Schweizer. Image, 2021. 9781534320741. 120pp. Former pro basketball player Nash Gliven, Jr. was once known as “The Knife.” But most players referred to him as “Old Head” because he stuck around for too long, leading the league in hard fouls and not-taking-any-bullshit while often warming the bench. On the day of his mother’s funeral Nash finds out that vampires are real, his mother was a badass monster fighter, and that he does indeed have one more great game in him. Great moments: Gliven’s ex-wife’s explanation for why he was called “The Knife,” the creepy dudes who practice The Dracula Method for picking up women, and the entrance of the Dark Lord himself into the story. Plus I just love the ending. Here’s hoping Old Head’s daughter stars in a sequel one day. Starks entertaining and humorous graphic novels read like the best b-grade action movies — I highly recommend Sexcastle and Kill Them All, which he both wrote and drew. He’s also known for a bunch of other comics work including Assassin Nation and many issues of Rick and Morty comics.

Sunny Volume 1 by Taiyo Matsumoto. Translation by Michael Arias. Viz Signature, 2013. 9781421555256. Publisher’s Rating: T for Teen, recommended for ages 13 and up. The stories in Sunny are about the kids who live in the Star Kids Home, a place that takes in children who can’t live with their parents for a variety of reasons. In the first installment Sei is dropped off. He thinks his mom will be back to get him over the summer, but the white-haired Haruo slowly convinces Sei that he’s been dumped, and that no one is coming back to get him. Haruo is the kid who skips school and acts out everywhere, but it’s clear loneliness is driving him. He’s hoping to live with his mom and dad again, and unlike Sei even gets to visit with his parents occasionally, though it’s clear Haruo will never leave the home. There are other kids, too — the pretty Megumu who Haruo crushes on, Junsuke with his long fingernails and messy hair, the gigantic Taro whom everyone loves, Kenji the cool older kid about to drop out of school, and others. Their stories all come out to some extent, though Haruo and Kenji are clearly the focus of the books. And at the center is a broken down car, a Sunny 1200, which is a kind of clubhouse where they play and smoke and look at the porn Kenji hides there and generally hang out. There are lots of up and downs, and many bright moments that bring the characters to life. Haruo savors the smell of the Nivea cream his mother gave him, hoping to visit her. Sei responds to his loneliness and despair by sinking into books, and eventually even has a girlfriend of sorts, a girl from outside the home who walks the dog Kurimaru with Sei when it’s his turn. Taro sings at the top of his longs. Megumu shows how worried she is about herself by worrying about a dead cat in a ditch, which Haruo helps her bury. This series is complete in six volumes. Each has immense shelf appeal — the covers are beautiful front and back (see photos), and the art uses organic lines and a variety of textures to create a sense of reality I don’t often encounter in manga. Taiyo Matsumoto is perhaps most famous for Tekkonkinkreet, a book full of kinetic, entertaining violence which also features a kid named White (this is Haruo’s nickname, because of his hair). Viz just published Matsumoto’s sports manga Ping Pong (complete in two volumes), and is now publishing his science fiction series No. 5 as well.

The Middle Kid by Steven Weinberg. Chronicle Books, 2021. 9781452181806. I love Weinberg’s books, particularly the way he’s now working with both collage and drawing and painting and whatever in his picture books and the AstroNuts series. This one seems to be the composition notebook of a middle kid, complete with tables of useful information at the front and penciled notes to KEEP OUT! from the writer. Inside it reads like a picture book diary, in comics format, of the ups and downs of being a middle kid who loves drawing (like Weinberg). His sister spills on his art. His brother locks him in a trunk to teach him to be tough. But when things are too intense, his mom takes him for a break at the library. Perfect.   Ship in a Bottle by Andrew Prahin. G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers, 2021. 9781984815811. Mouse dreams of a better life, of a place where she can enjoy gingersnaps and sit in the sun without Cat trying to eat her. So she sets off in her ship in a bottle, with an ample supply of cookies. Things seem a little bleak — there’s a storm and some rude seagulls — but eventually, when it seems most unlikely, Mouse finds new friends and a perfect home. I love Prahin’s gray rainy days almost as much as I love the colorful world full of new friends he draws for Mouse.   Anthony and the Gargoyle by Jo Ellen Bogart, illustrated by Maja Kastelic. Groundwood Books, 2021. 9781773063447. In this lovely, wordless story, Anthony, discovers a friendly young creature in his closet. With the help of a book on Notre Dame, they figure out it’s probably a gargoyle, like the ones on the cathedral. When Anthony’s family visits his ailing grandmother, he introduces her to his friend, and then during a trip to Notre Dame returns it to its family (much to his parents’ surprise). This story is told in a very simple layout of borderless comics panels with rounded corners, which make it feel a bit kinder than it would have if the panels had had sharp angles. It’s a great introduction to the power of panels, the way they allow readers to control the pace of a story and even to go back and forth between moments.