by Jessica Abel ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 7, 2006
An emotional, beautifully crafted odyssey that not only utilizes but transcends both navel-gazing self-discovery and...
Nice Chicago girl goes to Mexico City and ends up with far more than she can handle.
Abel has been one of the leaders of the indie comics scene for several years, from her occasional “Artbabe” comics to her graphics journalism. She’s best known—and rightly so—for her five-part “La Perdida” series from Fantagraphics, reproduced here in a single volume. The book itself is an assured piece of work, somewhat autobiographical though never cloyingly so, that owes a large debt to the work of Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez (Love and Rockets, not reviewed). Abel’s heroine Carla is a half-Mexican young woman from Chicago who moves to Mexico City to hang with her occasional boyfriend Harry—an arrogant trustafarian with a Burroughs and Kerouac fetish—and figure out what to do with her life. She doesn’t have much direction, and grates at the closed-off manner of Harry’s Caucasian expat friends, whom she derides as hardly knowing any natives of the country they live in (though most of them speak better Spanish than she). The naive Carla falls in with a pair of obnoxious locals she angrily defends to her steadily shrinking circle of acquaintances. Both these guys—her boyfriend Oscar, a clueless pot dealer who dreams of being a deejay, and Memo, an acerbic pseudo-Marxist who spouts anti-American rhetoric when not trying to seduce blonde tourists—are trouble, and the reader knows what’s coming well before Carla does. The author gets by without worrying too much about plot, content with tracking Carla’s increasing self-righteousness and steady deterioration as all the insecurities she wanted to leave behind come bubbling back up in this country that remains stubbornly foreign. When the story takes a stunning turn near the end, it seems less an effort to find a dramatic conclusion than the inevitable result of Carla’s northern naïveté.
An emotional, beautifully crafted odyssey that not only utilizes but transcends both navel-gazing self-discovery and backpackers-in-peril clichés.Pub Date: March 7, 2006
ISBN: 0-375-42365-6
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2006
Share your opinion of this book
More by Jessica Abel
BOOK REVIEW
by Jessica Abel ; illustrated by Jessica Abel with Lydia Roberts & Walter
BOOK REVIEW
by Jessica Abel illustrated by Jessica Abel
BOOK REVIEW
edited by Jeff Smith ; series editor: Jessica Abel ; Matt Madden
by Richard McGuire ; illustrated by Richard McGuire ‧ RELEASE DATE: Dec. 9, 2014
A gorgeous symphony.
Illustrator McGuire (What’s Wrong With This Book, 1997, etc.) once again frames a fixed space across the millennia.
McGuire’s original treatment of the concept—published in 1989 in Raw magazine as six packed pages—here gives way to a graphic novel’s worth of two-page spreads, and the work soars in the enlarged space. Pages unspool like a player-piano roll, each spread filled by a particular time, while inset, ever shifting panels cut windows to other eras, everything effervescing with staggered, interrelated vignettes and arresting images. Researchers looking for Native American artifacts in 1986 pay a visit to the house that sprouts up in 1907, where a 1609 Native American couple flirtatiously recalls the legend of a local insatiable monster, while across the room, an attendee of a 1975 costume party shuffles in their direction, dressed as a bear with arms outstretched. A 1996 fire hose gushes into a 1934 floral bouquet, its shape echoed by a billowing sheet on the following page, in 2015. There’s a hint of Terrence Malick’s beautiful malevolence as panels of nature—a wolf in 1430 clenching its prey’s bloody haunch; the sun-dappled shallows of 2113’s new sea—haunt scenes of domesticity. McGuire also plays with the very concept of panels: a boy flaunts a toy drum in small panels of 1959 while a woman in 1973 sets up a projection screen (a panel in its own right) that ultimately displays the same drummer boy from a new angle; in 2050, a pair of old men play with a set of holographic panels arranged not unlike the pages of the book itself and find a gateway to the past. Later spreads flash with terrible and ancient supremacy, impending cataclysm, and distant, verdant renaissance, then slow to inevitable, irresistible conclusion. The muted colors and soft pencils further blur individual moments into a rich, eons-spanning whole.
A gorgeous symphony.Pub Date: Dec. 9, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-375-40650-8
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Pantheon
Review Posted Online: Oct. 14, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 2014
Share your opinion of this book
by Jason Lutes ‧ RELEASE DATE: June 1, 2001
An original project worth watching as it shapes up to something that may be quite magnificent.
This black-and-white historical narrative, written and illustrated by Lutes, collects eight volumes of his ongoing comic book set in Berlin during the late ’20s. It’s a multilayered tale of love and politics at the beginning of the Nazi era, as Lutes follows the stories of three characters: a 20ish art student from the provinces, a textile worker, and a young Jewish radical. Their lives intersect in only the subtlest way—Lutes depicts them crossing paths at some great public events, such as the Mayday march that closes this part of his book. And Lutes plays with perspective in a visual sense as well, jumping from point-of-view frames to overhead angles, including one from a dirigible flying above in honor of the Kaiser. At street level, Lutes integrates his historical research smoothly, and cleverly evokes the sounds and smells of a city alive with public debate and private turmoil. The competing political factions include communists, socialists, democrats, nationalists, and fascists, and all of Lutes’s characters get swept up by events. Marthe, the beautiful art student, settles in with Kurt, the cynical and detached journalist; Gudrun, the factory worker, loses her job, and her nasty husband (to the Nazi party), then joins a communist cooperative with her young daughters; Schwartz, a teenager enamored with the memory of Rosa Luxembourg, balances his incipient politics with his religion at home and his passion for Houdini. The lesser figures seem fully realized as well, from the despotic art instructor to the reluctant street policeman. Cosmopolitan Berlin on the brink of disaster: Lutes captures the time and place with a historian’s precision and a cinematographer’s skill. His shifts from close-ups to fades work perfectly in his thin-line style, a crossbreed of dense-scene European comics and more simple comics styles on this side of the Atlantic.
An original project worth watching as it shapes up to something that may be quite magnificent.Pub Date: June 1, 2001
ISBN: 1-896597-29-7
Page Count: 212
Publisher: Drawn & Quarterly
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2001
Share your opinion of this book
More by Jason Lutes
BOOK REVIEW
by Jason Lutes & illustrated by Nick Bertozzi
© Copyright 2025 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Hey there, book lover.
We’re glad you found a book that interests you!
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Trouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Trouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Don’t fret. We’ll find you.