Attack of the Stuff: The Life and Times of Jim Waddler by Jim Benton. Papercutz, 2020. 9781545804995. 112pp. Stuff talks to Jim (a duck), and most of it is pretty rude. All his things ever do is mock him and make his life tough, including his salt and pepper shakers (they seem determined to make him feel useless), his peanut butter (it says it has a jelly allergy), and his toilet (it won’t let him use it because it has ambition). Business isn’t good at his hay store, and it’s hard for Jim to get the orange juice he wants at the orange juice shop. To get away from his things Jim goes to live in nature. But when the internet breaks and the everything is in chaos, the world needs Jim to talk to the electronics and figure out what’s going on. Benton’s graphic novel is perfectly ridiculous, enjoyable by readers of any age, and just the escape I needed.

We Are Okay by Nina LaCour. Penguin, 2019. 9780142422939. 256pp. This book has been on my shelf for far too long. When I finally picked it up the other day I could not put it down. I’ve never loved a book this infused with sadness, and I can’t imagine I’ll read a better YA novel this year. (If it looks familiar, it may be because it came out in 2017 and won the Printz.) The less you know about the book the better, I think, but below is a summary that’s as un-spoilery as I can make it. Marin fled across the country from the Bay Area where something terrible happened. It’s clear it probably had something to do with her grandfather. She moved in with him after her mother died and they lived at the beach where her mom had loved to surf. Her and her grandfather’s lives were strangely and kind of amazingly separate in some ways — he was a poetic guy who spent lots of time alone and exchanged love letters with his Birdie. But Marin had a best friend, Mabel, and life with her grandfather seemed normal. But then whatever happened happened, and Marin ran off to her university, abandoning Mabel and whatever was developing between them. Now Mabel is coming to visit her in her university dorm where, over Christmas break, she’s the only person in residence. Marin is nervous and excited and not sure what she’s going to say. (Minor spoiler: What happened and why she fled comes out, because how could it not.) Poetic, precise, and oh so well constructed, this is a book my wife, my daughter, and I will talk about for months, and one that I’m going to be recommending for far longer.

Kerry and the Knight of the Forest by Andi Watson. Random House Graphic, 2020. 9781984893291. 288pp. Kerry is rushing home to Meadowsweet when he’s tricked into taking a path through a cursed forest and gets lost. He saves a snail’s life, but then has to convince it to help him find his way home. It tells Kerry to find the Old Knight of the Road. But the knight isn’t the hero in armor Kerry was hoping for — it’s a waystone, whose duty is to guide travelers. And Kerry is going to need help as to get past the will-o-wisps, the seedlings, and the other agents of the malevolent spirit that has taken over the forest. Kerry’s chief attribute is his kindness. The knight thinks this is going to cause Kerry nothing but trouble. (Of course he’s wrong). After the story, there are D&D-ish character sheets for everyone and everything in the story that include scores for Empathy and Moxie, plus instructions for readers to create their own characters. There are also a few pages from an early draft of the story plus thumbnails, including 43 simple sketches that show how Watson (with help from the book’s designer) figured out the cover design. It should all be inspiring to young comic creators. I’m a huge fan of Andi Watson’s comics. His most famous graphic novels for kids are Glister and Princess Decomposia and Count Spatula, but if you live in the UK (or just shop there online occasionally), try to pick up his Gum Girl books if you can find them — they’re great, too.

The Detection Club Volume 1 by Jean Harambat. Europe Comics, 2020. Available in electronic editions only. 86pp. The Detection Club Volume 2 by Jean Harambat. Europe Comics, 2020. Available in electronic editions only. 44pp. In the opening pages of this graphic novel, G.K. Chesterton is administering the Detection Club’s oath to its first American member, John Dickson Carr. Dorothy Sayers fires a gun to celebrate, while Agatha Christie, Major A.E.W. Mason, Baroness Emma Orczy, and Monsignor Ronald Knox have more calm reactions. (Yes, the Detection Club was real — it formed in the 1930s and included many of the top British mystery writers.) Over dinner they discuss the Ten Commandments for classic detective stories. And then things get fun — a robot bird drops off an invitation to visit billionaire Roderick Ghyll’s mansion on his island in Cornwall. There he introduces a suspicious cast of characters to the writers, plus an automaton that unravels mysteries even better than the authors who wrote them. During the night there is, of course, a murder, or is it a suicide? The robot has a strange answer for who did the killing. Naturally, the members of the Detection Club are on the case. It’s all a great, lighthearted bit of fun. I have a sense there were many in-jokes I missed as I’m not familiar with the work of all of the authors, but it was very enjoyable anyway.

Lost Soul Be At Peace by Maggie Thrash. Candlewick, 2020. 9781536213157. 189pp with a short afterward addressing the truth of the book. Maggie leads a privileged life. Her brother has left for college and her parents don’t seem to be paying much attention to her. After her cat goes missing, she searches her entire house, discovering a note she wrote about her cat way back when she was seven and a hallway she’s never seen before. In the messy, dilapidated room at the end of it she meets the ghost of a boy who has a gun just like hers. Maggie dances, studies Hamlet, goes with her father to court (he’s a judge) and may be on the verge of finding a girlfriend. As she and the ghost become closer, she learns about his crappy life and tries to figure out why he’s in their house. (The reveal at the end of the story was great.) Throughout Maggie also comes to understand how easy her life is. This a new paperback edition of a graphic novel originally published in hardcover in 2018.

The Runaway Princess by Johan Troïanowski. Translated by Anne and Owen Smith. RH Graphic, 2020. 9780593124161. Princess Robin has run away to the woods, and she needs your help to escape the wolf that’s chasing her. (After shaking the book as directed, you can then turn the page and see how you helped her escape. It’s pretty fun, and there are more interactive moments throughout the book.) She finds three kids abandoned in the woods and takes them with her to the Aquatic Carnival in Noor (after helping them escape the ogre, who doesn’t really want to eat them). The carnival itself is fish-in-the-sky amazing with tons of colors and none of the scariness that some of the earlier pages have, even when Robin loses her new friends. The first adventure ends with everyone home again. In the second, Robin runs away again, this time through a secret passage, down a well, and into a giant pumpkin. In the third she doesn’t run away, but she isn’t able to stay at home, either. (This book was originally published as three separate volumes in France.) The first adventure is by far my favorite. Troïanowski evokes both fear and wonder, and some of the drawings reminded me of Clive Barker’s illustrations for Abarat. (I don’t think I ever read the last book in that series — need to go do that now.)

The Daughters of Ys written by M.T. Anderson, art by Jo Rioux. First Second, 2020. 9781626728783. 205pp including a list of three versions of the ancient Breton folktale referenced to write this modern version. The wounded Gradlon, King of Kerne, is saved by a magical woman from another world, Lady Malgven. She promises if he helps her kill her wizard husband, his lands will belong to Gradlon. So Gradlon makes her his queen and she uses her powers to push back the sea and build him a beautiful capital city, Ys. Then she dies, leaving behind two daughters. Rozenn loves wild places, like the forest. Dahut loves magic. But the magic seems to have cost their mother something, if not her very life. And their mom used to control the sea monster. Who’s going to control it now that she’s gone? Dahut, that’s who. The girls grow apart and become very different. At the heart of who Dahut has become is the terrible secret to both her magical powers and the city’s survival. This isn’t a children’s graphic novel, though it might look like one. It’s a dark story that teens and adults will enjoy, beautifully rendered in a style that has all the depth of the best myths and folktales. It’s not graphic but it does have some sex (though not much nudity) and more than a little blood. And it’s is simply one of the most beautiful and well structured graphic novels I’ve seen in a while.  

All Together Now by Hope Larson. FSG, 2020. 9780374313654. 192pp including some great pages on how Larson makes comics at the back. Larson’s Salamander Dream is one of my favorite graphic novels, and she’s deservedly well-known for her graphic adaptation of A Wrinkle in Time. This is a followup to All Summer Long, which made a number of graphic novel and best lists for 2018 and 2019. It is the continuing story of L.A.-based middle school guitarist Bina. She and her friend Darcy find a drummer for their band, changing everything and maybe leading to the end of their friendship. Bina is also romantically interested in her sporty best friend Austin even though he has a girlfriend (at least at the beginning of the book). There’s a lot of awkwardness, including Bina going to a high school party with Austin’s sister, and a moment where Bina goes berserk (for good cause). Mostly it’s about friendship and figuring out what love means. (There’s a great conversation about relationships with both guys and girls with Austin’s sister, too.) Larson’s art makes the moments when Bina is really into her music sing, and also shows how hard it is to be creative on a schedule. In a month where I’ve had a hard time finishing anything, I read this book in one sitting without putting it down. And I will probably read it again before the month is through.

Limited Edition by Aude Picault. Translated by Matt Madden. Dargaud / Europe Comics, 2018. Available in English only as an ebook — links for where to buy it at http://www.europecomics.com/album/limited-edition/ 150pp. Claire, a neonatal nurse, would love to fall in love and start a family, but the men she dates just aren’t ready to commit. She’s taking some time off from dating when she meets Franck, who starts pursuing her. They fall in love, and it seems like everything might work out. (Until it doesn’t seem like that, though Claire hardly seems to notice.) Picault has a way of infusing scenes that would be otherwise terrible with a bit of humor — the way she draws body language allows her to express the tiny joys that we all have at even the worst of times. The sex scenes are funny even when they’re a bit sad, and Claire, even in her self-denial, comes across as an amazing woman.                         Fanfare by Aude Picault. (in French) Guy Delecourt Productions / Shampooing, 2011. 9782756024271. 96pp. I loved Picault’s drawings so much that I ordered this book from France. It centers on a tutu-wearing, mostly brass, mostly cross-dressing marching band at a festival full of bands in strange costumes. At the center of the narrative is a young woman, Alda, who is expecting to meet her beau Bilu at the festival, but instead learns that he’s on vacation with another woman. She’s hurt. Josée, the woman on the cover, comforts her, but it seems like the party might be over for Alda. Picault’s drawings of the bands playing music, of the party, and in particular of the crazy costumes are full of joy, a beautiful counterpoint to Alda’s anger. You’ll find Picault’s drawings amazing even if you don’t read French.

Displacement by Kiku Hughes. First Second, 2020. 9781250193537. 277pp. plus photos of Kiki’s grandmother, a glossary of terms, and a list of books for further reading. In the present day Kiku, on a walk in San Francisco with her mother to find her grandmother’s childhood home, is displaced to an earlier time where she witness a violin performance by her then-young grandmother. Back in her hotel room Kiku realizes how little she knows about her grandmother’s life. She wants to ask her mom for more information but then President Trump, on the TV, starts talking about keeping Muslims from entering the US, and she feels like it’s not a good time to talk. She’s displaced in time again the next morning, and again after she returns to Seattle. Back in the 1940s she’s evacuated with those of Japanese ancestry and placed into the same internment camp as her grandmother. She goes to sleep hoping to wake up at home, but instead awakens in the camp. Luckily her roommate helps her adjust. Kiku’s time in the past is depicted realistically, with a mix of awfulness, nice moments, boredom, and injustice. She even has a bit of a romance with another girl, May. And then, just when things seem tolerable and predictable, her life is upended and she is sent off to the Topaz Relocation Center in Utah. This is a great graphic novel, wonderfully drawn, and personal. I loved that Hughes wasn’t afraid to connect Japanese internment to President Trump’s policies. I look forward to seeing this book on banned book lists everywhere, and I hope that keeps it in print for decades to come. Without meaning to, I read this right after finishing John Okada’s No-No Boy, which was just about perfect. No-No Boy tells the story of a young man, Ichiro, who has just returned to Seattle after being imprisoned for answering “no” to two questions in an interment camp — he refused to denounce the Japanese emperor and would not serve in the US military. It not only showed me Seattle in an entirely new light, it has a great supporting cast of characters that included Ichiro’s mother, who refuses to believe Japan lost WWII, his friend Kenji, who is slowly dying from a wound he received as a US soldier, and a lovely, sad young woman whose husband won’t return to her. I’d probably have never gotten around to reading if I hadn’t attended the University of Washington Friends of the Library Lecture given by UW professor Sean Wong last January. He told the history of No-No Boy as well as how he helped bring it to prominence as a classic of Asian American literature. You can watch the lecture here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJO8bExdSdI No-No Boy: a novel by John Okada. University of Washington Press, 1979. 0295055252. Introduction by Lawson Fusao Inada, Afterword “In Search of John Okada” by Frank Chin.