At long last, Hazel and her star-crossed family are finally back, and they’ve made some new…friends?
Art is just as beautiful as ever.
Lying Cat remains the best.
I liked the decision to make the story time skip the same duration as the hiatus.
This series is pretty damn brutal. I’m bummed about how the previous book ended, and this book was dealing with the emotional fallout from it.
I know that everyone is on the chopping block in this series but I’m gonna be really pissed if they hurt Ghüs. It may be too much of a bummer for me nowadays? It’s good but has lost the magic of when it was first published. I keep hoping for something, anything, to get better for these guys and these worlds, and instead it’s getting worse. There was one hint of hope towards the end of this volume then of course they crushed us with a massive emotional blow for the ending.
Three voices. Three acts of defiance. One mass injustice.
The story of camp as you’ve never seen it before. Japanese Americans complied when evicted from their homes in World War II — but many refused to submit to imprisonment in American concentration camps without a fight.
In this groundbreaking graphic novel, meet:
— JIM AKUTSU, the inspiration for John Okada’s No-No Boy, who refuses to be drafted from the camp at Minidoka when classified as a non-citizen, an enemy alien;
— HIROSHI KASHIWAGI, who resists government pressure to sign a loyalty oath at Tule Lake, but yields to family pressure to renounce his U.S. citizenship; and
— MITSUYE ENDO, a reluctant recruit to a lawsuit contesting her imprisonment, who refuses a chance to leave the camp at Topaz so that her case could reach the U.S. Supreme Court.
Based upon painstaking research, We Hereby Refuse presents an original vision of America’s past with disturbing links to the American present.
Overall this was an effective and moving history. It was interesting to trace the path of three different forms of resistance. This expands on what I learned in Takei’s They Called Us Enemy.
Jim Akutsu’s story was the most fleshed out, followed by Hiroshi Kashiwagi’s. His could have used a bit more clarity, and I would have liked more on Mitsuye Endo.
Two artists use significantly different art styles to illustrate the stories. Though the art in Kashiwagi’s segment looked rough and sketchy, I did like it for the tone. I’m not sure it was complementary to the more traditional art style for the other two segments. Perhaps a third art style might have pulled the distinctive styles together better?
Before there was Kate Beaton, New York Times bestselling cartoonist of Hark A Vagrant fame, there was Katie Beaton of the Cape Breton Beatons, specifically Mabou, a tight-knit seaside community where the lobster is as abundant as beaches, fiddles, and Gaelic folk songs. After university, Beaton heads out west to take advantage of Alberta’s oil rush, part of the long tradition of East Coasters who seek gainful employment elsewhere when they can’t find it in the homeland they love so much. With the singular goal of paying off her student loans, what the journey will actually cost Beaton will be far more than she anticipates.
Arriving in Fort McMurray, Beaton finds work in the lucrative camps owned and operated by the world’s largest oil companies. Being one of the few women among thousands of men, the culture shock is palpable. It does not hit home until she moves to a spartan, isolated worksite for higher pay. She encounters the harsh reality of life in the oil sands where trauma is an everyday occurrence yet never discussed. Her wounds may never heal.
Beaton’s natural cartooning prowess is on full display as she draws colossal machinery and mammoth vehicles set against a sublime Albertan backdrop of wildlife, Northern Lights, and Rocky Mountains. Her first full-length graphic narrative, Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands is an untold story of Canada: a country that prides itself on its egalitarian ethos and natural beauty while simultaneously exploiting both the riches of its land and the humanity of its people.
A powerful memoir about a complex subject that she carries complicated feelings about. She handles the telling with compassion and sensitivity despite the terrible experiences she endured. I’m of an age with her and though I never went through anything remotely close to that bad, and I didn’t have the albatross of student loans, it pisses me off that the first years after college (at least in the mid-2000s) seem to be universally wearing and exploitative, yet we all know we have to put up with it. Why does our society have to work this way? There’s a cathartic moment towards the end where she tells truth to power even though it makes no real change; the companies care as little for the impact on their workers as they do the ducks and the First Nations people downstream. Everything is done in the name of deniability and preventing liability.
Rinn has grown up with the Tea Dragons that inhabit their village, but stumbling across a real dragon turns out to be a different matter entirely! Aedhan is a young dragon who was appointed to protect the village but fell asleep in the forest eighty years ago. With the aid of Rinn’s adventuring uncle Erik and his partner Hesekiel, they investigate the mystery of his enchanted sleep, but Rinn’s real challenge is to help Aedhan come to terms with feeling that he cannot get back the time he has lost.
Cute art, charming story, cozy world. Love that the art includes sign language! Nice lessons.
When a sadistic serial killer begins murdering key political figures in Gotham, Batman is forced to investigate the city’s hidden corruption and question his family’s involvement.
I liked Robert Pattinson’s rendition of Batman a lot. This version feels like a real Batman could become — a traumatized, reclusive orphan obsessed with justice and vengeance, who dedicates all his resources to his obsession. Desperate to feel in control and empowered, he turns his time and money and energy to direct action when other courses would likely be more effective. He looks wan and sickly — a man who doesn’t see the sun, who sleeps too little, who pushes himself too hard and cares little for his body. His hair falls lank over his face — this is no playboy. Driven by emotion, he doesn’t take time to think or plan, but dives headlong into danger heedlessly. A risk taker who relies heavily on intimidation — he walks with swagger, radiating aggression, boots falling heavy.
I appreciate the nod to his detective origins. I also like the struggles he must face as the mystery unravels.
Visually this looked great. The vibe of the film is dark and gritty, even in the daylight scenes — this is a grim and dangerous city, dirty, treeless, lit by too few outdated sodium lampposts. There’s a cool fight scene lit by the strobe of gunfire. Bruce’s home is dripping with gothic ornamentation.
Selena and Gordon seemed well-cast. I love that Selena keeps trashing on rich people to his face.
I made another weird little comic thing, hopeful and a little bittersweet, about conservation after the apocalypse. A topic near and dear to my heart, Lord knows. (Technical notes in another thread, linked at the end.) pic.twitter.com/weAcMbbu4Q
In 1924, work began in earnest on a small villa by the sea in the south of France. Nearly a century later, this structure is a design milestone. Meet Eileen Gray, the woman behind the E-1027 house and a pioneer of the Modern Movement in architecture. Like so many gifted female artists and designers of her time, Eileen Gray’s story has been eclipsed by the men with whom she collaborated. Dzierzawska’s exquisite visuals bring to life the tale of a young Irish designer whose work and life came to bloom during the ‘Annees Folles’ of early 20th century Paris.
I liked the art but didn’t understand why the house is so special or why it was so offensive to have Le Corbusier’s murals added. Though the book is titled after the house, it’s more of a general biography.