The Best of 2023, as Decreed by Our Contributors

As is our compulsion, we polled contributors to this website (and a few others) with a very broad question requiring no particular answer: "What do you feel reflects the best of 2023 in comics?" More volunteered than ever before - with ranked lists, loose groups of favorites, personal anecdotes, apologies, and wishes for the future. In the wilds below you may encounter an accounting of every comic somebody bought in 2023, or perhaps one paragraph on one book alone. To avoid injury, feel free to approach these 40+ perspectives in any order, as eyewitness accounts of the phenomenon of comics: a greater thing than many would prefer you believe.

-The Editors

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My favorite comic releases and reissues of the year, in no particular order:

Murky World (Dark Horse) - Richard Corben, Mike Shields & Beth Corben Reed
Ax-Wielder Jon (Karoshi Comics) - Nick Pitarra
W0RLDTR33 (Image) - James Tynion IV & Fernando Blanco
Magus (Lethal Comics) - Al Gofa
Void Rivals (Image) - Robert Kirkman, Lorenzo De Felici & Matheus Lopes
Faceless and the Family (Oni Press) - Matt Lesniewski
The Immortal Thor (Marvel) - Al Ewing, Martin Coccolo & Matthew Wilson
Doctor Strange: Fall Sunrise (Marvel) - Tradd Moore & Heather Moore
Daredevil (Marvel) - Saladin Ahmed, Aaron Kuder & Jesus Aburtov
Somna (DSTLRY) - Tula Lotay & Becky Cloonan
Why Don't You Love Me? (Drawn & Quarterly) - Paul B. Rainey
Rare Flavours (BOOM! Studios) - Ram V & Filipe Andrade
Work-Life Balance (Drawn & Quarterly) - Aisha Franz, translated by Nicholas Houde
Batman '89: Echoes (DC) - Sam Hamm, Joe Quinones & Leonardo Ito
Batman/Superman: World's Finest (DC) - Mark Waid, Dan Mora & others
A Sprig of Thaxin (self-published) - Paul Kirchner
What We Mean By Yesterday (webcomic) - Benjamin Marra
Monica (Fantagraphics) - Daniel Clowes
Crave (Image) - Maria Llovet
Birds of Prey (DC) - Kelly Thompson, Leonardo Romero & Jordie Bellaire

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2023 felt like a transitional year of sorts in many ways. It feels like we're in-between something. We had books from the established masters (Tamakis, Clowes, Harkham, Noda), and more recent stars (V, Ba, Chisholm), and people who've been doing good work for a while coming out with their definitive statements (Mohamed, Camp/Morian, etc.). We had books from the likes of Owen D. Pomery, Emily Carroll, Erica Henderson, Kyoko Okazaki, Wendy Xu, Sloane Leong, Deb JJ Lee, a new Marjorie Liu/Sana Takeda joint, and even a Ronald Wimberly.

All in all, pretty damn great, and pruning down a long long list to keep it short, this is what I've put down:

-Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (Pantheon)
-20th Century Men by Deniz Camp/Stipan Morian/Aditya Bidikar (Image)
-Rare Flavours by Ram V/Filipe Andrade/Inês Amaro/AndWorld Design (BOOM! Studios)
-Roaming by Mariko Tamaki & Jillian Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)
-Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)
-Mobilis: My Life With Captain Nemo by Juni Ba (TKO Studios)
-River's Edge by Kyoko Okazaki (translated by Alexa Frank; Kodansha)
-Blood of the Virgin by Sammy Harkham (Pantheon)
-Darlin' and Her Other Names by Olivia Stephens (self-published)
-Miles Davis and the Search for the Sound by Dave Chisholm (Z2 Comics)
-The Monkey King by Chaiko (translated by Dan Christensen; Magnetic Press)
-Dogsred by Satoru Noda (translated by John Werry; VIZ)

If you asked me another day, the results may differ, some books may pop up that I've chosen to not list here. It was a good year for comics. Gun to my head though, if you asked me to just pick one book for the year?

Undoubtedly Deena Mohamed's Shubeik Lubeik. To me it towers above everything else I've read this year, and I cannot stop thinking about it. It's stuck with me since I first read it earlier this year. I've re-read it since, recommended it to literally any person who would listen, and screamed about it from any halls I possibly can. And I'm doing it again now. A seminal work of Arabic comics translated manga-style by the original creator, this is a formally bold, audacious and emotional journey set in an alternate history Cairo. It's about empire, class, capitalism, and it's all stitched together through beautifully moving character portraits with people of varying backgrounds. It's a hell of a tome to have and own. It's a book that will go down as an eternal favorite for me, and I suspect I'll still keep thinking about it. This is my comic of the year, and Deena Mohamed is the name to watch for. She's brilliant.

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For absolutely no reason, I'm going to go through my list in alphabetical order.

Every year I go to SPX with an eye on finding new and interesting books, and one of my favorites from this year's pile was Adversary by Blue Delliquanti. It's a very slim volume, but Delliquanti crams in a whole lot of COVID-era dread into it. Adversary is out in a self-published version now, but Silver Sprocket will be publishing it in a wider release in the spring.

It's not a comic, but Dave Gibbons' Confabulation: An Anecdotal Autobiography (Dark Horse) is a real delight. Its weird A to Z structure makes it less of a traditional autobiography and more like hearing a bunch of stories from the most interesting guy at the pub. If nothing else, this may be the first book to include a positive story about working for Jim Shooter.

One of the coolest comics on the stands right now is The Hunger and the Dusk (IDW) by G. Willow Wilson & Chris Wildgoose. Great art, great story, and all the trappings of a fun fantasy world. If you have fond memories of World of Warcraft, this is the book for you.

The publishing event of the year that went unnoticed by pretty much everyone was Miracleman: The Silver Age (Marvel), by Neil Gaiman & Mark Buckingham. Maybe it's the erratic publishing schedule, where issues just sort of show up unannounced. But three issues came out in 2023 on top of the three from last year, and it all wraps up in early 2024 with a climactic seventh. And while the schedule has been rough, it's hard to complain about six issues in two years when you consider the three-decade lapse before that. Perhaps the inevitable collected edition next year will get people to realize just how good this book is.

I always like a good historical graphic novel, and this year I really enjoyed Derf Backderf's Kent State (Abrams, published in 2020). My knowledge of the 1970 Kent State killings before this was summed up by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, so the details here were all new to me. Fortunately this book is impeccably researched, to the point where you get the impression that if it's raining in a panel, Derf's got a weather report to back it up.

My favorite work in translation of the year was Minami's Lover, Shungiku Uchida's work from the 1980s, newly translated by H. Paige and released by Fantagraphics. It's funny, sad, and almost shockingly raunchy. My only complaint about the book is that it was far too short (pun not intended).

There were two issues of Caroline Cash's PeePee PooPoo (Silver Sprocket) published this year (numbers 420 and 80085) and they continue to showcase her stellar talent, modern voice, and classic underground comix style. This series is not to be missed.

Jillian Tamaki's & Mariko Tamaki's Roaming (Drawn & Quarterly) might be my favorite graphic novel of the year. It's not a complicated story, but the way it captures the feeling of being young and stupid in a big city is really masterful.

And finally, it's not new by any means, but I was so happy to see 2013's Thor: The Mighty Avenger (Marvel) come back into print this year. Roger Langridge's and Chris Samnee's series was the rarest of the rare: a fun superhero book where the sun shines, people try their best, and our hero gets to fall in love. It's blessedly continuity-free, and fit for all ages. In a better world the pair would have been able to finish their story, but what's here should be savored as the priceless gem it is. This is one of the very best mainstream comics of the last decade, and it's great to have it widely available in a three-quarter size, extremely affordable "Complete Collection."

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I miss comics a lot. The past few years have seen a lot more on my plate, and making the headspace to think deeply about words and pictures together hasn't been possible. That said, I'm still reading them, just less than usual and mostly stuff for kids because that's the section I find myself wandering around in the library. Jo Rioux's Cat's Cradle series (First Second), the second book of which ("The Mole King's Lair") came out this past summer, has been a highlight. There are a lot of lazy comics for kids, based on the premise that they'll read anything, but these are both speedily readable and smartly immersive. They don't give away too much (Rioux seems to be in it for the long game), but they also don't rely too heavily on mystery. They create interesting characters. And they're beautiful. Rioux's drawings for M.K. Anderson's The Daughters of Ys caught my eye a few years ago, soft and curvy, with a touch of Edward Gorey in the way she sets a scene. Her people seem a little haunted, hollow-eyed, even when they're cute and small. Her dialogue bubble placement is smooth and clear. The books aren't showy, but they're made with skill. Here's hoping I get to read more things like them and also more things in general in 2024.

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Any such “best of” list is subjective even in the best of situations. However, the blessing I have as a freelance reviewer is that I get to read whatever I want, then try to review it. The curse, though, is that I have significant gaps in knowledge. Over the course of this year—which was a good year—I read 43 graphic works, but probably only a fourth of those, maybe a half, if I’m lucky, were from this year. Reading 20 or so from this year doesn’t make me an expert in what the best works were. However, I read some really strong ones, so here are four (in no particular order) I think stand out.

Impossible People: A Completely Average Recovery Story by Julia Wertz (Black Dog & Leventhal)

The subtitle of Wertz’s graphic memoir pretty much lays out the premise of the work, as she recovers from alcoholism with no significant high or low points. It’s not a dramatic tale. However, it’s funny, has great art, references all kinds of important writers/artists in the comics world, and documents a significant epiphany in Wertz’s life. Most of us don’t have dramatic stories to tell, as our lives are largely ordinary. Wertz reminds readers of the beauty and joy that we can find in those ordinary lives, if we’ll just look around.

The Talk by Darrin Bell (Henry Holt and Co.)

I first discovered Darrin Bell through Candorville, his daily strip, unaware of his work as a political cartoonist. The Talk merges the two (narrative and politics), as Bell tells the story of his childhood as a mixed-race child trying to understand a racist world. Though his mother gives him “the talk” that almost all African American children receive, it’s not until college that he truly begins to understand the pervasiveness of systemic racism. It’s not until he begins doing political cartoons that he realizes he is just as likely to stereotype others as anybody else. He ends the book as a father, knowing he will have to talk to his son about the realities of race in America, even as he has tried to instigate conversations in the about those realities in the U.S. as well.

Why Don’t You Love Me? by Paul B. Rainey (Drawn & Quarterly)

I’ll say what almost everybody has said about this book: you have to just keep reading. There’s no description of the book that can prepare you for what you will find if you do. The basic premise—about a couple who don’t seem interested in each other or their children—won’t sell readers on this book, as none of the characters seem particularly likeable. So, I’ll just say it again: you have to keep reading. If you do, you’ll get to see how Rainey explores ideas of success and happiness, fate and free will, and the importance of human connection. Rainey’s not about to give readers answers to these eternal questions, but the way he asks them is worth every minute of this read.

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (Pantheon)

Deena Mohamed takes the old story of somebody having three wishes and embeds it in contemporary Cairo culture, especially the importance of the kiosk. Shokry, a kiosk owner, has gotten hold of three first-class wishes - preferable to second- and third-class wishes, which can often go awry. Mohamed’s exploration and explanation of this wish structure allows her to explore questions of class, the extraction and use of fossil fuels and other resources, colonialism, and globalization. Three characters each end up with a wish and have to decide how to use it, raising questions of love and forgiveness, gender identity, and doing what is helpful when one doesn’t believe it’s right. Like in all good fairy tales (not the Disneyfied ones), Mohamed leaves readers pondering what they would do in a similar situation, forcing them to ask questions of their complicity in contemporary problems.

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Cor and indeed blimey that was a particularly grim year, so thank you very much to the random sparks of creativity that fired out of an ultimately cold and indifferent universe for keeping me distracted by a reality other than my own. Nice one, pals. My own picks for the best comics from 2023 born out of those? Glad you asked.

Indelibly filed together in my long-term memory, thanks to reading them both while laid up with everyone's favorite novel coronavirus—co-joined mostly due to their razor-sharp depictions of the innate, unfocused cruelty all teenagers find themselves to be in possession of—were Roaming by Mariko Tamaki & Jillian Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly) and River's Edge by Kyoko Okazaki (translated by Alexa Frank; Kodansha). We're talking chalk and cheese for the ultimate outcomes of the stories, the former optimistic for its protagonists, no matter their stumbles in trying to navigate newly adult relationships, the latter flinging shredded nihilism into the air and seeing where the (mostly broken) players land, but both books contain the universality of that most shared of experiences: fucking up your friendships as a teenager.

For more of that, but from the perspective of a perpetually tired, self-sabotaging adult, and containing what both the books above also had in abundance—examples of panels of perfect cartooning that make you grab your phone to take a picture to post on social media and then chastise yourself for not just being 'present' and existing in the now, as the story you're consuming is surely telling you that you should—I very much enjoyed finally reading Blood of the Virgin by Sammy Harkham (Pantheon). I can't remember a story I'd anticipated the collected version of for so long, and which delivered past expectations. More late title card drops in graphic novels in 2024 too, please, cheers.

I think it says a lot for my need for escapism where the remainder of my choices from the year were all firmly of the science fiction variety. But, as with all the best genre offerings, these came bundled with lashings of brutal reality, and none were more brutal in my reading than the collected 20th Century Men by Deniz Camp, Stipan Morian & Aditya Bidikar (Image), which had an angry intensity that propelled the whole endeavor along like, well, a terrifying mech suit created solely for the purpose of causing destruction. There's anger in Social Fiction by Chantal Montellier (translated by Geoffrey Brock; New York Review Comics) too, but it's tinged with a wry sadness that is contextualized in an interview in the backmatter, and which I think is best summed up by this quote: "...the betrayals of the 'leftist' government and the destruction of working-class communities upset and revolted me."

In their depictions of attempting to survive an environment that seems hellbent on destroying those who venture into it, I think that Shuna's Journey by Hayao Miyazaki (translated by Alex Dudok de Wit; First Second, published in 2022) and Prism Stalker: The Weeping Star by Sloane Leong (Dark Horse) pair nicely - the former luxuriating in meditating on the beauty to be found in even the harshest of climes, while the latter's psychedelic depictions of what it would be like to confront truly alien consciousnesses make for some arresting visual sequences.

Muscling in on that same action, literally, and throwing any grappling with environmentalism and/or colonialism out the window, along with the ego and superego, to leave nothing behind but pure, unfiltered id, was Den Vol. 1: Neverwhere by the late, great Richard Corben (Dark Horse), which had me cackling and slapping my thigh throughout. The bonkers fisheye lens visuals of Murky World (also by Corben) trod similar ground, but it's Neverwhere that ultimately delivers on honing down the meathead conqueror trope to its sharpest, silliest edge. Like playing a tabletop roleplaying game with that one friend who just wants to derail the story with a self-insert power fantasy OC and then keeps hitting critical successes for every check, you gotta roll with it.

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In a year filled with highly anticipated new offerings from the likes of Clowes and the Tamakis, some of the best books turned out to be surprises that came completely out of left field. This, then, isn't so much a ranked list as it is a brief overview of some of the stuff that knocked me for an unexpected loop this year, although I should state for the record that I DO consider the final two books I will mention to be the two best comics of the year:

Totem by Laura Pérez, translated by Andrea Rosenberg (Fantagraphics) - One of the year's most accomplished debut efforts, Spanish cartoonist Pérez constructs a world of her own with sharp-but-delicate pencil lines, boldly subdued (yes, that's a thing) hues and minimal dialogue - and her narratives are as finely-textured as her art. As subtle as it is stunning, these are stories that work their way from the front of your brain toward the back, and REALLY get their hooks into you.

A Book to Make Friends With by Lukas Verstraete, translated by Laura Watkinson (Fantagraphics) - A crime "caper" that evolves into a hallucinatory metaphysical journey and will knock your socks off with its lush, vibrant art, Flemish cartoonist Verstraete is a contemporary heir to the best of the RAW artists in both spirit AND style, and his work absolutely EARNS the deluxe, no-holds-barred presentation Fanta gives it here. A pricey one, to be sure, clocking in at $75, but it's worth every penny of that - and then some.

Are You Willing to Die for the Cause? Revolution in 1960s Quebec by Chris Oliveros (Drawn & Quarterly) - Nowhere near the dry historical treatise one might suspect it to be going in, Oliveros instead delivers a gripping, warts-and-all insider account—from multiple perspectives—of a tumultuous period in Canadian history little-understood by us in the U.S. An oral history in comics form that is both concise AND comprehensive. I feared we'd be looking at another Darryl Cunningham-style "infographic" book here, but this is nothing of the sort.

Mystic Debris by Justin Gradin (Fantagraphics) - The publisher's blurb for this one compares it to the hermetically-sealed cartoon universes of Gary Panter, Mark Beyer and Marc Bell - and damn if that's not the absolute truth. Gradin's debut exists in a reality of its own making and tells a story that can only make "sense" within the rules and strictures of that reality. A confident, dazzling, utterly singular "statement of arrival" from a talent we'll be hearing a LOT more from in the years to come.

Escape from the Great American Novel by Drew Lerman (Radiator Comics) - The most flat-out LIKABLE book on this list, and Lerman's best Snake Creek story so far. Clever, witty, well-drawn, endlessly inventive - Lerman is fast establishing himself as the next in a line that started with George Herriman and continued on through the likes of Walt Kelly, Bill Watterson and Jeff Smith. This is a comic that LOVES being a comic - and that you're going to love in return.

Ain't it Fun: Peter Laughner & Proto-Punk in the Secret City by Aaron Lange (Stone Church Press) - The best bio-comic of at least the past decade, Lange's multi-faceted and GORGEOUSLY-illustrated epic examines not just the life of its subject but the tributaries leading out from it a la Alan Moore's exhaustive "high-altitude mappings" of the Ripper and Lovecraft phenomena in From Hell and Providence, respectively. Laughner exists as a person, a creative force, and an IDEA in these spellbinding pages, and the sheer level of OBSESSION Lange brings to the project is palpable in every line. A legit tour de force in a world where that term is bandied about FAR too recklessly.

The Devil's Grin #3-4 by Alex Graham (self-published) - Following up a phenomenon is never easy, but blowing said phenomenon out of the water? That's even more impressive. Graham is taking the lessons learned from Dog Biscuits and applying them to the esoterica and everyday mysticism that have been her core concerns going back to her beginnings as a cartoonist, and the end result is a kind of densely-women but entirely freeform narrative that is going WHERE it wants at the PACE it wants to get there. Pure comics bliss from a master of the medium.

Doghead Sunset #1-2 by Dustin Holland (self-published) - The "Gorchverse" is the most interesting thing happening in comics right now and THIS is the most interesting thing to happen to the "Gorchverse." Not that you need to know anything about it going in. Totally singular and immersive comics that defy EVERY attempt at categorization or comparison, informed by nothing apart from whatever the hell Holland wants to do. Everything I love about comics yet entirely unlike anything else I've ever read.

Why Don't You Love Me? by Paul B. Rainey (Drawn & Quarterly) - The BIGGEST surprise of the year, bar none. Rainey's single-page strips looked like nicely-done "slice of life" stuff in a vaguely Mazzucchellian style to me at first, but this book is nothing if not ENTIRELY defiant of ALL your preconceptions. I went in expecting a protracted divorce/break-up comic, and this IS that - until it's not. And what it becomes is something not only BETTER, but entirely UNEXPECTED. To say much more would be to say TOO much more - just trust me when I say you will not see this coming. An absolute gem of a book that will impress you every bit as much for what it IS as for what it DOES, and one you will read again and in the coming years. An ESSENTIAL addition to your library, a masterpiece - and that's a term I almost NEVER use.

The Gull Yettin by Joe Kessler (New York Review Comics) - That a wordless comic should top this list may surprise some, but then, this is Kessler we're talking about - there's no better visual storyteller working today, and he's never been better than he is in this dark modern folktale that navigates the trickiest of all terrains: grief, loss, and tragedy. Emotionally and conceptually dense, tightly structured and awash in metaphor, this book nevertheless flows much like a dream and takes you to many of the same strange, uncertain, but eerily recognizable places that dreams often do. You don't "read" this comic so much as you EXPERIENCE it - and that experience doesn't end when the story does. Forget the year, this may just be the comic of the DECADE so far.

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There are all sorts of comics that get on my radar. Some I review and some, to my dismay, I do not. You can't read everything, let alone review it. I’m not a comics-reviewing machine, right? I'm conscious of this as a comics creator and reviewer who is constantly staring back at any number of titles, whether digital or print, lurking on my laptop, shifting about on bookshelves, tables, ledges, or strewn across the floor. Some I will never get around to reviewing because I'm simply not ready for some strange reason. Motivate me and then maybe I will. It strikes me now that this Best of 2023 challenge is just the prompt I need. For instance, I can finally address Tom Scioli's I Am Stan: A Graphic Biography of the Legendary Stan Lee, published by Ten Speed Press. In fact, allow me a few words. I wasn't going to even consider writing a review for my Comics Grinder blog or anywhere else until I knew everything I could about Stan the Man. Well, the year is done, and I never wrote a review! I had only skimmed through Tom's book when I got caught up in reading one of Tom's prime sources, Danny Fingeroth's A Marvelous Life: The Amazing Story of Stan Lee, published by St. Martin’s Press (2019). What I came to appreciate is that there are tons of time-honored observations on Stan Lee, and Fingeroth, an executive writer at Marvel Comics for many years, has a nice way of sifting through all the anecdotes, as does Scioli with his comic. It was a pleasure to read and review Fingeroth's new book this year, Jack Ruby: The Many Faces of Oswald's Assassin, published by Chicago Review Press. It's a compelling read, but what I found most interesting, in terms of comics, is that the book had been intended as a graphic novel. The plan was, until it fell through, for Fingeroth to write the script and for Rick Geary, known for his marvelous true crime comics, to draw the book. That's what Fingeroth told me when I interviewed him, and was probing to find a comics connection to his seemingly out-of-the-blue interest in Jack Ruby. It was my investing time in Danny Fingeroth's book that led me to a greater appreciation for Tom's book on Stan Lee. So, I'm good with saying I Am Stan, which had me going in circles on how to approach it, now has me coming in for a soft landing, giving it a tip of the hat.

But I should crow when I get it right, and I did right by Bill Griffith and his amazing 2023 book, Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy, published by Abrams. I posted two reviews on my Comics Grinder blog and followed that up with an interview with Griffy himself. Comics Grinder also posted a review by Paul Buhle of Griffy’s comic book tribute to his beloved wife who passed away in 2022, The Buildings are Barking: Diane Noomin in Memoriam, published by Fantagraphics. Perhaps Griffy was most appreciative of that review getting out into the world above anything else I did, and I sure can’t blame him. All I know is that getting to spend some time with the master cartoonist in his studio is one of my fondest memories.

And, last but not least, I need to mention George’s Run: A Writer’s Journey Through the Twilight Zone, my new graphic novel, published by Rutgers University Press, that launched in 2023 and will continue to be promoted in 2024. I saw a documentary on Norman Rockwell recently and I wasn’t surprised to learn that Rockwell was very self-conscious about his work and couldn’t help but point out what he saw as mistakes in his paintings. If I had to do my book over, I’m not sure that I could or would. I think a certain rhythm takes hold and it sustains you throughout the life of the work being done. Even regarding lesser works I’ve done in the past, I’m okay letting them live as they are. Anyway, I am hardly ashamed of what I’ve created! The narrative follows a deliberate plan. I think it rewards people who like science fiction and golden age television, but, if you’re open to it, it can be fun if you’re completely new to the original Twilight Zone and related things. As I said, I’m not a comics-reviewing machine. I’m a human being with feelings and aspirations. See how easy it is for you when you’ve got your own graphic novel out in the world. It ain’t easy, but I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

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I worry way too much about these stupid lists. I worry about recency bias and ignoring works from the beginning of the year, then I worry about not having enough recency bias and missing works from the end of the year. I worry about including too many lauded masterpieces, then I worry about throwing in too many unpolished gems from newer talents. I worry about including too many manga that Japanese readers had their mitts on a decade ago, then I worry about overlooking my favorite books just on a technicality that only the translation is new. I fret over not including enough self-published small press books, and then I worry about missing out on the big publishers’ doorstoppers. I worry waaay too much about everything I didn’t read, or didn’t know about; come February of 2024 I will be inevitably cursing myself for some book or other that came out June of last year (last time this happened it was Leomi Sadler’s Tummy Bugs. Great fucking comics! Didn’t reach my bookshelf in 2022, sorryyyyy). And I wonder if my taste is simply an inadequate mix-and-match of several of my social media mutuals, presented as though I have a right to an opinion.

But dear reader, I am an anxious woman, so you should ignore all that noise. I say “favorite” and not “best” for a reason. I don’t know what the book of the year was—I’m not a Dan Clowes kind of gal, so I’ll probably never know—but I do know what I like. This year was stacked with great comics grand and small. It was a conspicuously great year for queer comics and especially trans comics. A lot of comics made me cry this year, and many made me smile. There’s a lot to talk about, and for your valued pleasure I’ve listed out a handful that I haven’t forgotten, in no particular order:

Minami’s Lover
Shungiku Uchida (translated by H. Paige) - Fantagraphics

I think if I were to tell you what I want out of comics, I’d say it’s something a little perverse and ridiculous that slyly moves into tragedy and leaves you thinking about everything. Minami’s Lover is that, a size fetish joke of a story about reckoning with unspeakable loss. Chiyomi has shrunk into nothing and Minami hides her. They’re both suffering alone.

Give Her Back To Me
Hana Chatani - Glacier Bay Books

Technically I read this as a PDF from the ShortBox Comics Fair last year, but it definitely reached me a lot more deeply in Glacier Bay’s beautiful print edition. Another comic about death, love, family trauma, and the isolation of mourning privately for someone you loved. Chatani’s cartooning is incredibly confident and tender.

PANDORA
Hagiwara Rei (translated by zhuchka) - Glacier Bay Books

Another comic about grieving, this one a collection of short stories by Hagiwara Rei which each ruminate on the dark and lonely places that souls and memories travel to after death. Incredible watercolors throughout, very ashen and subtle. Glacier Bay Books has published a lot of great comics about loss–I think that is nearly as much their “thing” as alternative manga at this point–and this is one of the deepest darkest dirges they’ve published to date.

The Collected Audra Show Vol. 1
Audra Stang - self-published

Audra Stang is the real deal. She is on some Jaime Hernandez shit. I’ve loved her work in zines but seeing it all together just drives home to me that this is a cartoonist to be reckoned with. Stang loves her characters and refuses to compromise her stories.

Sunday 5-6-7-X
Olivier Schrauwen - Colorama

Most beautiful Risograph printing I saw in a year of beautiful Risograph printing, and a cerebral and hilarious finale to Schrauwen’s deepest work since Arsène Schrauwen. As sumptuous and meditative as its protagonist is self-absorbed and oblivious.

Baby
Patrick Kyle - Breakdown Press

Everyone I’ve shown this comic to thought it was the funniest shit ever and I think that’s all that matters.

Time Under Tension
M.S. Harkness - Fantagraphics

A graphic memoir about maintaining the emotional strength to create graphic memoirs while life keeps coming. Harkness is such a gem of a cartoonist. I really hope my cool bodybuilder/librarian friend who got me a whiskey sour the other night remembers that I told her she needs to read this. She definitely won’t forget now.

River’s Edge
Kyoko Okazaki (translated by Alexa Frank) - Kodansha

I read this manga and wrote my review of it while recovering from a gender affirming surgery, so we share a special bond now.

Enlightened Transsexual Comix
Sam Szabo - Silver Sprocket

Funny comic that made me laugh. No really I’m laughing. These aren’t tears babe I promise.

Boy Island
Leo Fox - webcomic

“You age.”

MNSTRFCKR
Anya Davidson - self-published

A dream-logic zine that actually reads that way, full of wandering eroticism and proud nudity that drifts in and out of awareness. There’s an eros to MNSTRFCKR that is so thoroughly unconcerned with how eroticism is typically captured on the page, somewhere between funny and sexy but entire its own personal thing. Davidson’s confidence as a cartoonist shines throughout it all. I like what I see.

The Chromatic Fantasy
H.A. - Silver Sprocket

I cannot remember the last time I read a graphic novel that lavished this much attention at such length on T4T gay sex and frankly that is what comics as a scene needs. H.A. has a lot of promise as an emerging artist, with a real eye for color and a knack for emotive, physical cartooning - every embrace, every flex, every slouch, every pout speaks volumes. I will definitely be paying attention to his future works.

Viscere Number 1: Body Horror
ed. Katie Skelly - Strega Sporca

An anthology of comics by cartoonists who have been stuck living on my TwitterBluesky timeline for far too long and are finally gifted some space to flex. The “body horror” theme manifests as stories of feminine-coded psychosis amid modernity and sexual double standards. Standout contributions by Coco Paluck and Corinne Halbert in particular really grabbed my attention. It was all good. Feels like the successor to Taboo we’ve always needed, and maybe, in a roundabout way, to Thickness as well. More please.

Datura Magazine #2
ed. Mar Julia & Sunmi - self-published

My favorite ongoing comics anthology, just on a raw vibes level. Dyke drama is for everyone, including lovers of fine risograph zines.

Clubhouse 20: Crushing
Colorama

Colorama’s artists-in-residency annual anthology is the softest, brightest book to grace my delicate hands this fine year, full of stories and graphics beaming with intimacy at the limits of what comics can do. I know at this point to expect great things from artists like Leomi Sadler, Tommi Parrish and Margot Ferrick (whose respective contributions were, I will say, each uniquely experimental and devastating), but as a collective effort of cartooning and beauty-making, poring over this anthology put a nice ribbon on a year of truly exciting reading.

* * *

Would it be a backhanded compliment to call Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy (Abrams) the best thing that Bill Griffith has ever done? The man’s been writing and drawing Zippy the Pinhead since before I was born, but with all due respect to the Zippy stans out there, this patient and loving exploration of Bushmiller’s boring life and deeply bizarre art resonated with me in a way that no other comics biography did this year.

In terms of comics memoir, Julia Wertz is in a class of her own - her latest book, Impossible People (Black Dog & Leventhal), is a triumph: just as funny, lacerating, and charming as you’d expect from Wertz, but propelled by a clear progression in her art. Impossible People is Wertz’s longest and most complex narrative work yet - a recovery memoir that doesn’t dwell on self-help bromides or other common crutches of the genre. (And if you’ll forgive a little self-promotion, one of the highlights of my year as a writer was getting the opportunity to do a nice, long, meaty TCJ interview with Wertz about her career.)

With new installments of their hugely entertaining series of pulpy Ethan Reckless mysteries published every six months or so, Sean Phillips & Ed Brubaker were consistent companions throughout the pandemic. I admit to being a little sad when, after five Reckless books, Brubaker and Phillips announced they were taking a break from the series to do some standalone comics novellas. But Night Fever (Image) might just be the best comic of their near-quarter-century partnership. It's a witchy little yarn that features the noir trappings they’ve explored for decades, but the story (about a man on a business trip who falls into the mysterious vortex of a secret society) feels haunted by something a little more sinister and unknowable than everything else they’ve done.

And while children have no shortage of middle-reader and young-adult comics available to them, Zach Weinersmith & Boulet’s Bea Wolf (First Second) is something special. This middle grade retelling of the Beowulf story stars a cast of children in a suburban neighborhood, and while Boulet’s art is clever and expressive and sometimes hilarious, Bea Wolf is the rare comic whose writing takes center stage. It’s narrated in a style that mimics the Auld Englyshhe cadences of Beowulf, creating a riff that feels both foreign and familiar. Here are the book’s first lines: “Hey, wait! Listen to the lives of the long-ago kids, the world-fighters, the parent-unminding kids, the improper, the politeness-proof, the unbowed bully-crushers, the bedtime-breakers, the raspberry-blowers, fighters of fun-killers, fearing nothing, fated for fame.” Is it cute? Sure, but not cloyingly so. Is it fun? Reader, I had a blast.

* * *

Breakdown Press double bill: What Awaits Them by Liam Cobb and Baby by Patrick Kyle.

It would be daft for me to do a round up of my 2023 highlights as I'm still mostly catching up on books that you all read last year. So to make good, and play catch-up, I ended 2023 on a double bill of recent releases from Breakdown Press, a publisher that can always be relied upon to deliver a good mixture of provocative storytelling and lovely illustration. I find a lot of alt and art comics tend to edge on the side of style over substance, but not Breakdown Press. What Awaits Them is a collection of short stories from Liam Cobb. I think this book is probably the output of several years, different genres and stylistic approaches, all strong work. Liam’s detailed and considered illustrations slow the reader, these are not pages you rush through... well, not me anyway. A common theme? Death, probably. Bleak and gorgeously drawn, some of them are funny too. Nice to have it all bound together in one handsome collection. Same goes for Baby by Patrick Kyle, the other book I ended my year on. I love how Patrick can boil an object down to a simple glyph - it’s perfect cartooning, symbols and signifiers. I think he does the same with his storytelling; the pace and language of his comics are carved back to the bare essentials that are an effortless joy to read. This one is about the existential life and times of a baby, finding their way in the world. Birth, sibling rivalry, teenage excess… it’s all there. So, both really enjoyable reads that I think you'd like. It was fun to read them back to back, to find the contrast between Cobb’s detailed landscapes and considerable draftsmanship and Kyle’s loose stylistic iconography. Both delivering great stories. Great comics, more in 2024 please.

* * *

My list is basically what I purchased in 2023. All of it I enjoyed, and I didn’t want to limit any from not being listed. I tried to get as much as I could, but I didn’t get everything released, and I apologize if your work didn’t make my list. Perhaps in the future I will have caught up to your work, which is probably ahead of its time at present for me. Mostly what I got was work which caught my eye for the first time, or from people I have been reading for years and have enjoyed consistently. The offering of comics is so vast now! There are long works and short works and a lot in between, depending on how much time you want to devote and the different tones and maturation these stories take. There is something for almost all readers of comics; the state of comics in 2023! The choice is yours.

Are You Willing to Die for the Cause?, Chris Oliveros, Drawn & Quarterly

The Audra Show, Audra Stang, self-published

Baby, Patrick Kyle, Breakdown Press

Baller Baby (Mini Memoir Project 7), Penina Gal, Paper Rocket Minicomics

Best Regards, Josh Pettinger, self-published

Big H, Connor Willumsen, Breakdown Press

BLAB! Vol. 1, edited by Monte Beauchamp, Dark Horse/Yoe Books

Black Phoenix #13-15, Rich Tommaso, self-published

Blammo 10 1/2, Noah Van Sciver, self-published

Blood of the Virgin, Sammy Harkham, Pantheon

Brooklyn’s Last Secret, Leslie Stein, Drawn & Quarterly

But is it… Comic Aht? 4, edited by Austin English with August Lipp, Domino Books

Canon 1-2, edited by Colin Blanchette, self-published

Caprice, Charles Burns, Éditions Cornélius

Cartoon Dialectics #4, Tom Kaczynski, Uncivilized

Cicada Comics #1, Cris Siqueira, self-published

Cicadas, presented by Riley Gale, Lookin' Out Records

The Comics Journal #309, edited by Kristy Valenti, Austin English & Gary Groth, Fantagraphics

The Comics Journal Yearbook: Best of 2022, edited by Kristy Valenti, Austin English & Gary Groth, Fantagraphics

The Complete Crumb Comic Covers, Robert Crumb, Éditions Cornélius

Cram 2, Andrew Alexander, A.T. Pratt, Allee Errico, Floyd Tangeman, Caroline Cash, Nick Bunch, Peter Faeke, Cedar Van Tassel, Cram Books

Dauntless Dames: High-Heeled Heroes of the Comic Strips, edited by Trina Robbins & Peter Maresca, Sunday Press/Fantagraphics

Dear Mini: A Graphic Novel Memoir, Book One, Natalie Norris, Fantagraphics Books

Dédales Vol. 3, Charles Burns, Éditions Cornélius

Eden II, K. Wroten, Fantagraphics

Fart School, Mel Stringer, Silver Sprocket

Fielder #2, Kevin Huizenga, self-published

Flippy, Nate Garcia, Domino Books

Flow Form Specimen, Lale Westvind, Neoglyphic Media

fragile, Melek Zertal, Colorama

Girl Juice, Benji Nate, Drawn & Quarterly

Harvey Knight's Odyssey, Nick Maandag, Drawn & Quarterly

Hypnotic Midday Movie: The Art of Simon Hanselmann, The Mansion Press

Jaywalk #4, edited by Floyd Tangeman & Austin English, Domino Books

Kim n°0, David Amram, Charles Burns, J.L. Capron, Nicole Claveloux, Antoine Cossé, Henri Crabieres, Robert Crumb, Ludovic Debeurme, Jerome Dubois, Simon Ecary, Antoine Maillard, Hugues Micol, Delphine Panique, Simon Roussin, Éditions Cornélius

Love and Rockets Volume IV, #13-14, Gilbert Hernandez & Jaime Hernandez, Fantagraphics Books

The Man in the McIntosh Suit, Rina Ayuyang, Drawn & Quarterly

Maple Terrace #1-2, Noah Van Sciver, Uncivilized

Milk Maid, Jasper Jubenvill, self-published

Monica, Daniel Clowes, Fantagraphics

My Dog Jojo: A July Diary, Gabrielle Bell Uncivilized

Palookaville 24, Seth, Drawn & Quarterly

Paradise, Apple, self-published

Paul Bunyan: The Invention of an American Legend, Noah Van Sciver, Toon Books

PeePee PooPoo #80085, Caroline Cash, Silver Sprocket

Poison Pill, M.S. Harkness, Caroline Cash, Sam Szabo, Victoria Douglas, M.S. Harkness, Heather Loase & Audra Stang, self-published

Product #1, Marc Bell, No World Books

Quality Pictures, edited by Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger, self-published, then Xeroxed by Bubbles Fanzine

Repulsive, Apple, Dr. H. Humbert, Kirt Burdick, Mike Boheem, Nero Caez, Simtoon, self-published

Rodeo #3, Evan Salazar, Rodeo Books

Santos Sisters #5 & Santos Sisters Halloween Special, Greg & Fake, Floating World

Shadow Hills, Sean Ford, Secret Acres

Sportsgirls’ Paradise, Sarah Romano Diehl, self-published

Sunday 5-6-7-X, Olivier Schrauwen, Colorama

Supers, Hugues Micol, Éditions Cornélius

Sweet Dreams, Charles Burns, printed at Risolve Studios

Tedward Classic Movies, Josh Pettinger & Simon Hanselmann, self-published

Thor and Loki: Midgard Family Mayhem, Jeffrey Brown, Chronicle Books

Time Under Tension, M.S. Harkness, Fantagraphics

Tongues #6, Anders Nilsen, self-published

Unended, Josh Bayer, Uncivilized

War Epic Vols. 1-2, Nathan Cowdry, self-published

Warm Television, Josh Pettinger, self-published

Werewolf Jones & Sons Autumnal Grievance Spectacular, Simon Hanselmann, self-published

Werewolf Jones & Sons® Deluxe Summer Fun Annual!, Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger, colors by Nate Garcia, Fantagraphics

The Werewolf Jones Guide to Parenting, Simon Hanselmann, Fantagraphics

X-Amount of Comics: 1963 (WhenElse?!) Annual!, Don Simpson, Fantagraphics

You Will Own Nothing and You Will be Happy #1, Simon Hanselmann, self-published

Zine Paniqué: Sports, Nate Garcia, Josh Pettinger, Jon Chandler, Sophie Franz, Cristian Castelo, M.S. Harkness, Richard Short, Jérôme Dubois & Francis Masse, Zine Paniqué

* * *

I was honored to be invited to contribute to such a diverse and dedicated listing of the best comics of the year. Particularly since I wasn't able to contribute to TCJ in 2023; I thought I did, but that turned out to be 2022, which indicates how forgetful I was this year of how quickly time is passing.

I researched the previous couple of years' lists, which added several titles to my "to read" list, but mostly reminded me of how different my choices below will be from many of the other contributors. So have some variety for spice of life. This is a list of the ten comics I most enjoyed reading this past year that came out in 2023, ordered alphabetically.

A Boy Named Rose by Gaëlle Geniller (FairSquare Comics) - It's a pleasure to see so many shades of queerness and self-expression now available in comics. Rose is born a boy but dresses as a girl and dances in the cabaret in 1920s Paris in this dreamlike historical romance.

Distressed Beeping by Andi Watson (self-published) - A lovely self-published hardcover of Watson's Patreon diary-ish strips, with subjects running the gamut from being an artist to watching movies with the family, all in calm pastel colors with tiny adorable figures. Relatable, approachable humor.

Don't Call It Mystery by Yumi Tamura, translated by Caroline Winzenried (Seven Seas) - But it is, at least in the beginning. An odd young man is taken in for questioning as a murder suspect, but his observations surprise and discomfit the detectives as he reaches deductions no one else sees.

Inside the Mind of Sherlock Holmes by Cyril Lieron & Benoit Dahan, translated by Christopher Pope (Titan Comics) - Sheds new light on a favorite character with amazing and imaginative layouts, under a wonderful cutout cover.

Mental Illness Combat Sports & Other Comics by Gemma Correll (self-published) - After reading this hilarious yet insightful minicomic collection of Correll's online strips, I felt seen.

Old-Fashioned Cupcake by Sagan Sagan, translated by Adrienne Beck (SuBLime) - A middle-aged man stops caring so much about what others think, indulges his passions for trendy treats, and discovers love with a co-worker along the way. His life-changing realizations about what really matters inspired some of my own.

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich by Deya Muniz, with Dominic Bustamante & Eleonora Bruni (Little, Brown) - A pun-filled romantic fantasy with heart between a royal who wants to make a difference and a woman dressing as a man to live life the way she wishes.

Ruined by Sarah Vaughn, Sarah Winifred Searle & Niki Smith (First Second) - Why don't we have more Austenesque historical romance graphic novels? Probably because this one sets such a high bar. The misunderstandings that can occur within such rigid societies are fascinating, and it's an intriguing premise to have the love story here be about a woman realizing she does love her (arranged) husband.

Superman vs. Meshi by Satoshi Miyagawa & Kai Kitagō, translated by Sheldon Drzka (DC) - If you had all the superpowers, you wouldn't have any trouble getting to Japan and back over your lunch hour, and you'd be able to indulge your love of their fast food. Not at all what I'd expect to see the Justice League appearing in, given the general lack of humor or fun in most DC superhero comics, yet wonderfully ridiculous (and hunger-inducing).

What Did You Eat Yesterday? Vol. 20 by Fumi Yoshinaga, translated by Jocelyne Allen (Kodansha) - I adore this series for both its recipes (which I'll never make, as they often use Japanese convenience products, but which focus on comfort and balance) and its relationships (as it's so rare to see the concerns of middle-aged adults in comics, including finding housing for aging parents). Food is love, and making it for yourself and others demonstrates caring and friendship, drawn beautifully.

* * *

A list of books from the year:

-Layers by Pénélope Bagieu, translated by Montana Kane (First Second)

-Cartoonshow by Derek M. Ballard (Oni Press)

-The Talk by Darrin Bell (Henry Holt and Co.)

-Three Rocks by Bill Griffith (Abrams)

-The Buildings Are Barking by Bill Griffith (Fantagraphics)

-Blood of the Virgin by Sammy Harkham (Pantheon)

-Time Under Tension by M.S. Harkness (Fantagraphics)

-Stamped From The Beginning: A Graphic History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi & Joel Christian Gill (Ten Speed Press)

-Marry Me a Little by Rob Kirby (Graphic Mundi)

-Boys Weekend by Mattie Lubchansky (Pantheon)

-I Thought You Loved Me by MariNaomi (Fieldmouse Press)

-Mutts by Patrick McDonnell (newspaper strip)

-Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (Pantheon)

-Worm: A Cuban American Odyssey by Edel Rodriguez (Metropolitan Books)

-Esther's Notebooks by Riad Sattouf, translated by Sam Taylor (Pantheon)

-Starhenge by Liam Sharp, with Matylda McCormack-Sharp (Image)

-Brooklyn’s Last Secret by Leslie Stein (Drawn & Quarterly)

-Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)

-Now Let Me Fly: A Portrait of Eugene Bullard by Ronald Wimberly & Brahm Revel (First Second)

-Thomas Girtin: The Forgotten Painter by Oscar Zárate (SelfMadeHero)

-Tits & Clits, 1972-1987, edited by Samantha Meier (Fantagraphics)

-The Great British Bump-Off, John Allison & Max Sarin (Dark Horse)

* * *

1. W the Whore by Anke Feuchtenberger & Katrin de Vries, translated by Mark David Nevins (New York Review Comics)
I have issues with how this was printed, but I'm mainly thankful that this essential work of international comics is finally available for American readers. So many people are going to find this at the library and start making incredible comics.

2. Unended by Josh Bayer (Uncivilized)
It's hard to do justice to Bayer's art. There are moments here that are a wild combination of Thomas Hart Benton and Al Milgrom, but Bayer is not a collagist. He wants to study and digest as many graphic approaches as possible, wherever they come from, for a real reason: to tell stories that move the reader. Any tool to do this needs to be considered, and Bayer has the patience to learn to use tools, alongside the passion and intelligence to go beyond craft and into art. As I've said before: the only cartoonist who isn't pretending.

3. Sunday 5-6-7-X by Olivier Schrauwen (Colorama)
Master cartoonist and humorist putting everyone else to shame.

4. Why Don't You Love Me? by Paul B. Rainey (Drawn & Quarterly)
I can't say enough about this book. So many cartoonists are searching for a theme to justify their love of drawing. Rainey, on the other hand, has something specific and difficult to say. A real comic for adults. How have I never heard of this artist before?

5. Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)
I still need a few years to think about this and then come back to it but I loved reading it. For a certain kind of coherence in all our lives, we should be grateful that the best living cartoonist made this book.

6. The Necrophilic Landscape by Morgan Vogel (2dcloud)
This technically came out in 2017 and was reprinted in 2023, perhaps not exactly eligible for a list like this. But... the reprint means more people are going to read this, which is good. I think Vogel distilled avant-garde American comic approaches alongside the entirety of what's worthwhile in Garo and then used that as a platform for their own singular way of drawing and thinking. As the years go by, I think Vogel will be looked at as one of the most intelligent comic makers of their generation.

7. Amy: Thrill To Live by Vanessa Conte (Random Man Editions)
This is the sex comic that proves that all the other sex comics are sexless.

8. Junction Box edited by James Tonra (self-published)
There are a lot of anthologies coming out of New York lately with a combination of artists from three (or four or five?) linked collectives and communities. This one has a particularly excellent story in it by Sam Seigel that sets it apart from the pack, as well as truly beautiful production values that underline just how special this moment in underground NYC comics is.

9. I Wish I Was Stupid by Ebisu Yoshikazu, translated by Ryan Holmberg (Breakdown Press)
Ebisu makes comics that feel like a building block ingredient of the form, comics that act as baking soda. If Bushmiller was extremely upset for 200 pages, this would be the book he'd make.

10. Swag #6 by Cameron Arthur (self-published)
Anyone not reading Swag is missing one of the best writers in comics right now. A couple of decades ago when Gabrielle Bell was putting out minicomics, each new publication was exciting, as it built on the last, but also departed into more ambitious storytelling, risky tonal shifts were made, etc. Each new release from Arthur feels like that. This issue was particularly strong.

Also enjoyed: Fielder #2 by Kevin Huizenga (self-published); Portrait Mode by Ben Mendelewicz (Random Man Editions); Your Miserable Tea Angel Orchid by Krusty Wheatfield (self-published); Mangaka by Floyd Tangeman (self-published); Stories from Zoo by Anand (Bubbles Zine); Psychodrama Illustrated #6 by Gilbert Hernandez (Fantagraphics); Meditations on First Philosophy by Goda Trakumaite (self-published); Blah Blah Blah #4 by Juliette Collet (self-published); W.W.R.E.C. by Max Burlingame & Angela Fanche (self-published); Flow Form Speciman by Lale Westvind (Neoglyphic Media); much much more that I'm forgetting.

* * *

I’m hardly qualified to nominate 2023’s “best” comics; I’ve missed so many. Teaching under COVID’s lingering shadow has gotten harder, and life fuller. I’ve missed attending comics festivals. Manga and webcomics continue to be intermittent rather than constant parts of my reading life. My house is choking on paper, but my blog has lain dormant since midsummer. Keeping track of this field I love has gotten harder. That said, the end of the fall semester (I do live by the academic calendar) allows me to refuel and “catch up,” a bit. Here then, a baker’s dozen of my 2023 faves:

20 km/h, Woshibai, translated by Megan Tan & Francine Yulo (Drawn & Quarterly)
Weirdly beautiful enigmas by, reportedly, an anonymous Chinese cartoonist. Generic people (think restroom icons) inhabit wordless vignettes built out of uniformly two-panel pages. Surreal visual poetry? Hermetic gag cartoons? It’s all very regular, except not; metamorphoses and disorienting shifts abound. You might think you’d tire of this quickly, but no.

Maple Terrace #1-2, Noah Van Sciver (Uncivilized Books)
A funny/painful autobio series about the artist’s impoverished youth. Young Noah steals some comics and gets in trouble; his anxiety radiates off the page. The visual hyperbole of 1990s superheroes infects the story; mostly, though, this is hysterical shame comedy. I feel bad for laughing, but Van Sciver is great.

In Limbo, Deb JJ Lee (First Second)
A hypnotically drawn Künstlerroman with a frightful emotional undertow and some frankly unfinished business. A memoir of the Korean-American diaspora, the book explores mother/daughter friction, abuse, fragile mental health, implicit queerness, and what it means to be a good, or bad, friend. Lee’s delicate aesthetic belies their toughness. Gorgeous, nettlesome.

Family Style: Memories of an American from Vietnam, Thien Pham (First Second)
An elliptic memoir of Vietnamese emigration and U.S. acculturation, focused on memories of food. First published serially on Instagram, the book maintains regular layouts and a steady, reassuring structure, yet leapfrogs forward in time (pay close attention!). Beautifully drawn, sometimes painful, but then again joyful: a remarkable testament to family.

Tegan and Sara: Junior High, Tegan Quin, Sara Quin & Tillie Walden (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)
Popstars Tegan and Sara retell their 1990s middle-school experience as if it were happening now. They’re upfront about the changes, and write characters well, treating social difference and budding queerness with grace. Thing is, they have artist Walden on their side - and she delivers, with inventive pages and emotional nuance.

Isle of Elsi, Book Two: The Egalliv Examiner, Alec Longstreth (Phase Seven Comics)
Longstreth’s Elsi series (collecting his ongoing webcomic) blends fantasy, Barksian adventure, communal ethos, absurd wordplay, nonviolent problem-solving, and a tinkerer’s love of things. The four-tier pages recall Dell-era children’s comics and Franco-Belgian BD. This second volume broadens the scope with tales of barter, craft, and cooperation. Nerdy, personal, compulsively readable!

Kaya #4-13, Wes Craig, with Jason Wordie & AndWorld Design (Image Comics)
Well-worn tropes (postapocalyptic world, prophesied savior, roving children at risk) overflow in this smashingly well-rendered adventure serial. Robots, mutants, scaled and slithery critters - plus, a fierce sister who must protect her anointed brother, a burden that makes her mad. Frenzied action and hard feelings; baroque, joyous layouts; sumptuous colors. Yum.

Danger and Other Unknown Risks, Ryan North & Erica Henderson (Penguin Workshop)
Yet another Young Adult who must save the world. Or maybe she must let the old world go? North and Henderson (Squirrel Girl) dismantle their own fantasy-adventure plot and invite us to embrace the new. Sly, witty, deep; blessedly free of foregone conclusions. An ingenious sneak attack of a book.

Nejishiki, Yoshiharu Tsuge, edited by Mitsuhiro Asakawa & Ryan Holmberg, translated by Ryan Holmberg (Drawn & Quarterly)
Unnerving alt-manga from the classic Garo artist, in an exquisite hardcover translated by Ryan (Passion Project) Holmberg. These avant-garde comics (1968-1972) are nightmares: anomic, disorienting, and, disturbingly often, sexually violent. Some are bleak comedies; still, an appalling calm prevails. Holmberg’s excellent contextualizing essay works with and against the Tsuge myth.

My Picture Diary, Fujiwara Maki, translated by Ryan Holmberg (Drawn & Quarterly)
Fujiwara, artist and actress, partnered with Tsuge for three decades. Her early-1980s Diary protests their patriarchal marriage, revealing the labor she did to appease her depressive, sometimes abusive husband. Faux-naïf drawn panels run opposite terse, disconcerting text. Bless D&Q and Holmberg for this deeply researched riposte to their Tsuge series.

Monica, Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)
An epistemological and psychological puzzlebox: Monica’s quest to understand her long-lost mother becomes a meditation on the hazards of recovering the irrecoverable past. The novel’s odd structure—a sequence of disparate, superbly crafted short stories, or genre studies—complicates things. I am still puzzling over this damn book. Layered? Clowesian!

The Talk, Darrin Bell (Henry Holt and Co.)
Bell’s memoir is about working toward a complex understanding of anti-Black racism. It’s also about parenting and our responsibility to teach children honestly. Intimately familiar with the lie of racism and its insidious psychological effects, Bell brilliantly balances humor and rage. Candid, piercing, and raw; didactic in the best way.

Roaming, Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)
Book of the Year! Three Canadian college students rendezvous in New York for a long weekend getaway; their relationships tangle and twist, queerly and poignantly. The characters are knowable and frustrating, like real people. The book lovingly evokes the already-vanished NYC of about fifteen years ago. Beautiful, subtle, and confounding.

* * *

Shuk & Doode by Simon Harrison & Tim Crowfoot (Dark & Golden Books)
Brief, unfinished 1988 strip, reprinted as one of Dark & Golden's excavations in British comics' sub-basement. Harrison, having just got onto 2000 AD's radar, here stakes out his turf and draws two queasily inhuman poltergeists behaving like 1980s alternative comedians and committing anarchy in a UK so dark it could be at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. "Here" in this case was, of all places, inside Computer + Video Games magazine. Try to imagine Simon Harrison comics being part of the consumer magazine landscape, if you can still imagine magazines.

The Legend of Luther Arkwright by Bryan Talbot (Jonathan Cape, published in 2022)
Back again. Talbot's third Luther Arkwright story was on this list last year partly for its general inquiry into what Left art should be doing about our addiction to war and death. It's on this year's list since one specific war mentioned in the text has reignited and sent tens of thousands of screaming people into eternity. Two years and counting of Arkwright wondering if telling the difference between a good person and an evil one is really that hard, and whether being the former means doing violence to the latter.

Batman: Gotham After Midnight: The Deluxe Edition by Steve Niles, Kelley Jones & Michelle Madsen (DC)
No greater buzz from modern superhero comics than Batman drawn by Kelley Jones in the artist's maximalist improvisational pomp, visual elements distilled from the style of Bernie Wrightson and then plugged into the mains. At one point in this 2008-09 series Jones grabs at Frank Miller's vibe, a lab experiment with no safety certificate. The new Deluxe reprint includes a script, so you can see Niles asking Jones to show Batman landing with a light impact, and Jones drawing Batman in a macabre swan dive with skeletal joints unknown to medicine and a three-acre cape, about to smash through the paper and land in your lap.

What Awaits Them by Liam Cobb (Breakdown Press)
Tales of disquiet and doom in which the rules of civilization might evaporate at any moment, thin veneers over something older, greener and passionate. Gives the Michelin Man what the creepy uncouth goon deserves.

Gratuitous Ninja by Ronald Wimberly, Freddy Carrasco & Afu Chan (Beehive Books)
Born first as a webcomic, a portion of this Brooklyn ninja saga has been transferred onto paper as a pile of accordion-printed double-sided ribbons of comics to be unfurled vertically. The exuberant art and forced perspectives and stretched bodies and spicy ramen dishes all seem rich with sensations from the physical world, so wrestling with 400 feet of paper engineering is an appropriate transition. If your vision for comics art (and comics criticism for that matter) includes "scribbling it on street walls and the doors of public lavatories; inside phone boxes on flyposted posters. Out there and everywhere," as per Bill Drummond and the Book of Revelation, then Gratuitous Ninja could nicely wallpaper a bus stop. Although with a $100 Kickstarter price tag and international shipping costs up front, maybe not.

Rockers and Rappers (Dark & Golden Books)
and
Rated SavX: The Savage Pencil Skratchbook (Strange Attractor Press, published in 2020)
both by Savage Pencil
Persistent claims that a British sci-fi comic now aiming for a YA audience and published by a millionaire hobbyist should still be considered "punk" spurred some remedial exposure to that actual quality. Rockers and Rappers collects music press illustrations from the 1980s and '90s by the venerable British troublemaker Edwin Pouncey AKA Savage Pencil, careening across the carriageway from photomontage to wild caricature. For the artist's actual comics the path leads back to the 2020 career retrospective, published appropriately by British esoterica connoisseurs Strange Attractor, a trove of intoxicating, difficult, unspeakable, transgressive, anti-fascist work from an artist who convincingly claims to have created them as automatic drawing. You won't find Savage Pencil in consumer magazines, and not in 2000 AD either.

* * *

My ten best comics of 2023, in alphabetical order:

Cat Kid Comic Club: Influencers by Dav Pilkey (Scholastic)

The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A. (Silver Sprocket)

Grand Slam Romance by Ollie Hicks & Emma Oosterhous (Surely Books)

Infinity Particle by Wendy Xu (Quill Tree)

Mimosa by Archie Bongiovanni (Surely Books)

Parachute Kids by Betty C. Tang (Scholastic)

Pet Peeves by Nicole Goux (Avery Hill)

PeePee PooPoo #80085 by Caroline Cash (Silver Sprocket)

Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy by Bill Griffith (Abrams)

Werewolf Jones & Sons® Deluxe Summer Fun Annual! by Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger (Fantagraphics)

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A busy year with plenty of comics-related activities, including several trips to New York which led to some articles and other projects. So did visits to the Small Press Expo 2023 and Cartoons Crossroads Columbus 2023. The year was highlighted by a trip to Seattle in April to visit the Fantagraphics office... and get married. Shary Flenniken, a part-time reverend, served as our officiant, and Jim & Mary Woodring were our witnesses. Talk about comics royalty!

In no particular order, here's are some of the other things I experienced that brought me joy in 2023 and made me grateful that I spend as much time as I do reading, and writing about, printed materials.

Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics). In part a crazy-ass love letter to the D-grade genre comics of the '50s, '60s & '70s, and in part a thinly veiled autobiographical journey into the folly of the search of one's true identity, Monica has stayed with me through several readings. It's an excellent book and, better yet, gives me renewed hope for the power of the comics medium and for the depth that Clowes can push into. Highly recommended. An extensive interview that I conducted with the author for TCJ can be found here.

Three Rocks: The Story of Ernie Bushmiller, The Man Who Created Nancy by Bill Griffith (Abrams). Beautifully rendered and thoroughly researched, Three Rocks sees Griffith continue to set the bar for what historical graphic novels can produce. As with his other longform work, the book not only tells the life story of its main subject, but it also places Griffith's own evolution as an artist into the story's context; Griffith shows how Bushmiller's guileful genius made something like Zippy (and many other wonderful things) even possible. It's a book that Griffith has spent his entire career preparing to write and serves as a terrific companion piece to Mark Newgarden's and Paul Karasik's epic masterpiece, How to Read Nancy. Along with biographical details from the life of Ernie Bushmiller, Three Rocks is packed with pages of reproductions of classic Nancy strips. For those longing to own some original Nancy history to display on your walls, but unable to afford the insane cost of the original art, the How to Read Nancy website is offering affordable original newspaper proof sheets from the 1960s and '70s at its store. I have several hanging in my house.

The Buildings are Barking: Diane Noomin in Memoriam by Bill Griffith (Fantagraphics). This year also saw Griffith produce a wonderful book on the last topic he would ever want to tackle: the death of his wife, the extraordinary cartoonist Diane Noomin, in 2022. Loving, beautiful and heartbreaking, the book is Griffith's grief-fueled effort to capture the essence of the person who served as his partner, editor and muse for the past 50 years. I spoke with Griffith about The Buildings are Barking and about Three Rocks here.

Poor Helpless Comics! The Cartoons (and More) of Ed Subitzky by Ed Subitzky (New York Review Comics). The collection that I was impatiently waiting for for many, many years. Subitzky's minimal and utterly sublime—and strange—comics were among my favorites in National Lampoon, as were his even more Dada text pieces. This book, under the direction of cartoonist Mark Newgarden, collects more than 100 examples of his best work from the Lampoon and a few other places, and also includes a great interview with Subitzky with Newgarden. You can read an interview with Subitzky with Newgarden, filmmaker Owen Kline and myself about the book and other topics here. I also have a long interview with Subitzky in the current issue of The American Bystandermagazine.

Time Under Tension, by M.S. Harkness (Fantagraphics). A really powerful and extremely well-written autobiographical story of the early days of the author's art career. No punches held back. I enjoyed this one very much.

Pittsburgh by Frank Santoro (New York Review Comics). Newly released in paperback this year by NYRC, Santoro's dignified memoir on the fragility of family and the stoic resilience of his home city remains a wonder to behold. Working primarily in full-page spreads and using colored markers, pencils, scissors, tape and varying paper stocks, Pittsburgh is a scrapbook of memories, some faded and others strikingly vibrant. It is an astonishing achievement.

Library by Glenn Bray (Zoop). This is a giant of a book, literally. With 800 pages of full-color images of covers of sleazy comic books, lurid pulps, cheap paperbacks, crackpot pamphlets and other printed waste of past eras, Library is a sampling of the amazing ephemera lurking in the, uh, library, of one of history's greatest collectors of lowbrow pop culture.

Married to Comics, directed by John Kinhart. This excellent documentary film about the lives and marriage of Justin Green and Carol Tyler, two legendary figures in the world of autobio comics, has been playing in a select number of theaters, and I had the pleasure of seeing it on the big screen twice in 2023. I hope that it will come to a theater near you (or better yet, beg your local arthouse cinema to book it) so that you can see it for yourself before it migrates to one of the streaming platforms. As I reported from the world premiere, its haunting exploration of art, struggle, betrayal and hope deserves to be seen on the big screen, especially with its superb musical score. With Robert Crumb, Art Spiegelman, Phoebe Gloeckner, Denis Kitchen, Chris Ware, Ron Turner, Glenn Bray, Trina Robbins and the underground comics historian Patrick Rosenkranz.

Among the things on my reading table now are three Fantagraphics releases: Billy Schelly's excellent James Warren, Empire of Monsters: The Man Behind Creepy, Vampirella, and Famous Monsters; Ernie in Kovacsland: Writings, Drawings, and Photographs from Television's Original Genius curated by Josh Mills, Ben Model & Pat Thomas; and Flamed Out: The Underground Adventures and Comix Genius of Willy Murphy by Nicki Michaels, Ted Richards & Mark Burstein.

See you next year.

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I didn’t read a ton of comics that came out this year, but what I read and liked was an eclectic mix. I didn’t see much praise for Mattie Lubchansky’s Boys Weekend (Pantheon), which I enjoyed. I’ve been a fan of Lubchansky’s cartooning in The Nib (RIP) and was interested to see how they’d handle a full length narrative. Boys Weekend deftly handles heartfelt emotion and social satire, plus it’s literally dripping with body horror.

The Titan Conan the Barbarian series (Jim Zub, Rob De La Torre, Doug Braithwaite, others) was the pulpy throwback I needed. The new series recreates the tone of the classic Roy Thomas/John Buscema Conan stories, complete with Marvel-esque Bullpen credits. Longtime Conan fans might find the material familiar, but its done so well that it really doesn’t matter, by Crom.

A third favorite was Toussaint Louverture: The Story of the Only Successful Slave Revolt in History (Sakina Karimjee & Nic Watts, adapting C. L. R. James; Verso Books), which I already said enough about in my review. The adaptation is exciting, educational, and the perfect gift for the lefties in your life.

Speaking of educational, I learned a lot from The He-Man Effect: How American Toymakers Sold You Your Childhood (Box Brown; First Second). I like Brown’s art style and he ties a lot of diverse threads together in the book. You’ll never think of your old action figures the same way after reading this book - probably the only comic endorsed Marxist economist Richard Wolff.

* * *

1. River’s Edge, Kyoko Okazaki (translated by Alexa Frank; Kodansha) - An ideal read for a trifling fool who thinks herself unflappable; vulgar juxtaposition of rotting flesh, teen sex and melted cheese (you may love pizza but it's no beauty queen), only to be bested by the usual repugnant behavior Okazaki's characters.

2. The Shriekers, Molly Colleen O’Connell (self-published) - Pleasingly craggy linework taking time to make extra gags and doodads, every story in this collection the apartment floor of someone with eight massive craft projects in the works.

3. Cagelessness #2, Daria Tessler (self-published) - In the echelon of blissful art that makes you forget about the artist. The title is not nonsense, it’s dead serious, perfect for vegans.

4. I Wish I Was Stupid, Ebisu Yoshikazu (translated by Ryan Holmberg; Breakdown Press) - Absurd takes on our modern world; listing content warnings would exceed my allowable wordcount.

5. Pirate Band, Juliette Collet (webcomic) - Becoming shoegaze take on a romance comic, seemingly scrupulously planned and stream-of-consciousness improvised, which is it?

6. Baby, Patrick Kyle (Breakdown Press) - What if M.C. Escher drew in a Memphis style, but camp? As a parent, allow me to say beware: your children will not be able to unread it.

7. Melvin Monster: Omnibus Paperback Edition, John Stanley (Drawn & Quarterly) - Gag strips of extraordinary characters in ordinary situations. Attractively simple drawings of lighthearted laffs in a monster world.

8. I Never Found You, Emma Jon-Michael Frank (Floating World) - A crime comic about birdwatching! The feeling of fiction about people you actually know, but not as well as you thought you did.

9. Orochi: The Perfect Edition Vol. 4, Kazuo Umezz (translated by Jocelyne Allen, adapted to English by Molly Tanzer; VIZ) - Horror melodrama at its best. That meddling kid, Orochi, finds a way to snoop every time.

10. W.W.R.E.C., Max Burlingame & Angela Fanche (self-published) - What fun to see someone write about a shopping-mall-as-hellscape in this decade! This zine would be a short read, but the visuals are too complex and alluring for a quickie.

* * *

Keum Suk Gendry-Kim (translated by Janet Hong), The Naked Tree (Drawn & Quarterly)
This adaptation of Park Wan-suh’s novel was just great. Lee, the watchful young heroine, begins to unfold her own traumatic past as she attempts an ill-advised love affair with a married artist. Gendry-Kim is one of my favorite contemporary cartoonists, she draws beautifully and her stories always reach deep into the heart of human experiences.

Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki, Roaming (Drawn & Quarterly)
This novel captured the restlessness and frustration of being youthful and at large in the world just brilliantly. The narrative see-saws through New York City, its characters swimming in the tourist experience experiencing the high tides of their energy, appetites and emotions… and the crashing lows.

Léonie Bischoff (translated by Jenna Allen), Anaïs Nin: A Sea of Lies (Fantagraphics)
Bischoff nailed this beautiful portrait of legendary diarist and literary mistress, Anaïs Nin. Her life was so intricately researched and rendered, and Bischoff captured the dreamy, bewitching mood of Nin's best writing. It was just lovely.

Keiler Roberts, The Joy of Quitting (Drawn & Quarterly)
The funniest book I read in 2023 - which shows how remarkable an artist Roberts is, as it’s also a touching story of adapting to a serious illness and balancing motherhood with creative work.

Rina Ayuyang, The Man in the McIntosh Suit (Drawn & Quarterly)
I loved everything about this fast-paced love story/thriller. The artwork was so sweet and adroit. I’m excited for more installments.

MariNaomi, I Thought You Loved Me (Fieldmouse Press)
This memoir of female friendship—and mourning its ending—was just unique and gorgeous.

Marcello Quintanilha (translated by Andrea Rosenberg), Listen, Beautiful Márcia (Fantagraphics)
One of the most memorable graphic novels I read this year, it played on in my head like a movie. I loved the garish art and the buoyant character of Márcia, who tries to hold her family together in the face of dysfunction, betrayal and brutality.

Thien Pham, Family Style (First Second)
This was such a sweet feel-good memoir depicting the refugee and immigrant experiences of a Vietnamese family adapting to life in a big new country. This book was so so good.

Kelcey Ervick, The Keeper (Avery Publishing)
This snuck in at the tail end of 2022 but I loved this story of female friendship, becoming a writer and women’s soccer, so I had to include it in my 2023 list. It was such a beautifully drawn and satisfying book, even for a non-soccer fan like myself. I found myself caring about the subject, which is testament to the power of Ervick’s skillful—and playful—storytelling.

…which brings me to book of the year:

It’s Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics). Quite simply, it’s his best book. It gave me a very bad night’s sleep (maybe don’t read this before bed in one gulp, like I did) and the next day it had me rereading it and connecting dots and layers of story that I’d missed the first time around. Dan Clowes is a master cartoonist and freaking literary genius. Damn. This book messed me up and I loved it.

* * *

Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics). Going along with the prevailing winds here I suppose, but man, I thought this was the best thing Clowes has done since Eightball wrapped up all those years ago. Just a great, sharp portrayal of a woman who cannot keep herself from constantly looking backward to the past that shaped her, until it consumes her entirely. And filled with fun little references and puzzles for a nerd like me to try to suss out. I recommend following it up with Gilbert Hernandez's Proof That the Devil Loves You as a companion piece.

Sunday 5-6-7-X by Olivier Schrauwen (Colorama). Again, an obvious pick perhaps, but I thought Schrauwen, who honestly has yet to let me down, did a lovely job wrapping up this verité-style story of a thoroughly average guy who just can't pull himself together and do something constructive with his day off/birthday. I had initially thought the slapstick in the series would build into something worthy of Keaton or Harold Lloyd, but I think Shrauwen's ultimate ending is sweeter and more fitting (although there is certainly the potential for chaos to reign in whatever occurs after the final panel).

Juliette by Camille Jourdy, translated by Aleshia Jensen (Drawn & Quarterly). This one surprised me. A charming slice-of-life narrative about a young woman visiting her family in the small town where she grew up. All of them, of course, are an absolute mess in one fashion or another. Jourdy has a delightfully gentle, lush art style that reminds me of Posy Simmonds. She's observant about people's various foibles in the same ultimately forgiving manner as well.

The Gull Yettin by Joe Kessler (New York Review Comics). A haunting, lovely fable about childhood, grief and jealousy. Kessler's art here is astonishing, particularly his use of color and in the way he constantly switches from media to media to fit the emotional thrust of a particular sequence.

Sammy the Mouse Book III / Chapter VI by Zak Sally (La Mano / Kilgore Books). Hey look! It's a new comic from Zak Sally! That's always a cause for celebration in my book.

Fielder #2 by Kevin Huizenga (self-published). More of Huizenga doing what he does best, which is mainly ruminating on getting older, the utter fragility of life and the challenges of making art, all while his characters juggle the everyday minutiae that makes up our daily lives. More please.

"So Fast In Their Shiny Metal Cars," from Social Fiction by Chantal Montellier, translated by Geoffrey Brock (New York Review Comics). I enjoyed all the comics in NYRC's Social Fiction, but this late 1970s story in particular, about a used car dealership that's unlike any used car dealership you've ever seen before, really stuck with me. A great critique of consumerism, racism, classism and who-knows-what-else-ism that retains the power to shock decades since its inception.

The Ribbon Queen by Garth Ennis, Jacen Burrows, Guillermo Ortego, Dan Brown & Rob Steen (AWA). An exploitation horror comic that is far sharper, smarter and unnerving than it has any right to be. It's very "of the moment" with its allusions to police brutality, #MeToo and Black Lives Matter, but avoids the sort of awkward cringe that plagues so many of these kinds of comics. It's just a well-executed genre piece that manages to convey a high level of tension and subtlety despite the gore. You can easily imagine this falling on its face any number of ways as it heads toward its no-doubt grim finale (two issues remain forthcoming as of this writing), but I'm betting good money Ennis and company manage to pull it off.

Dwellings by Jay Stephens (Oni Press). I hope to say more about this series on this website sometime in the near future, but for now I'll just say that I think Dwellings is quite possibly the best horror comic of the last 20 years.

Pure Evil by Matt Seneca (self-published). Obviously I'm completely biased, since Matt is a friend and co-podcaster, but I genuinely thought he knocked this tale concerning the ugly vagaries of comic book publishing circa the mid-20th century out of the park. His best work to date.

* * *

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS OBJECTIVE JOURNALISM
OR: GREAT COMICS I GOT AT SHOWS FROM PEOPLE I LIKE
Audra Stang, The Collected Audra Show (and) Tunnel Vision
Kelly Wang, What Can You Bring to the Table?
Mike Centeno, Futile Comics #9
Max Huffman, Hypermutt (and) Godless City

IT'S WILD THAT YOU'LL NEVER SEE ANY OF THESE UP FOR A BEST CONTINUING SERIES EISNER
OR: MANGA
Takako Shimura, Even Though We're Adults (translated by Jocelyne Allen; Seven Seas)
Naoki Urasawa, Asadora! (translated by John Werry; VIZ)
Osamu Tezuka, One Hundred Tales (translated by Iyasu Adair Nagata; Ablaze)
Masami Yuuki & Tetsurō Kasahara, ATOM: The Beginning (translated by Motoko Tamamuro & Jonathan Clements; Titan)

IS THIS MAINSTREAM?
OR: YES, I'M IN LOVE WITH MAGGIE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE
John Allison & Max Sarin, The Great British Bump-Off (Dark Horse)
Gilbert Hernandez & Jaime Hernandez, Love and Rockets (Fantagraphics)

* * *

The Shaolin Cowboy: Cruel to Be Kin by Geof Darrow, with Dave Stewart & Nate Piekos, Dark Horse

Shaggy dog stories have never been this well-groomed. While the title promises a Japanese/American hybrid, Darrow's art offers a mixture of manga's dedication to kinetic over-the-top violence and European bande dessinée clarity, resulting in something that precisely renders the tiniest gestures of its over-the-top motions. The moment that sticks in my memory the most involves the Shaolin Cowboy using the flying guillotine from Master of the Flying Guillotine hidden inside his cowboy hat to cut off the hand of an enemy and then text a Buddhist blessing with the phone he was using at the time, but the whole book is like that: relentless in unfolding its comedic logic; going on for much longer than it feels like it should; continually heightening the sense that the reader is going insane inside this Looney Tunes world of immaculate anatomy and architecture.

The Extraordinary Part: Orsay's Hands by Florent Ruppert & Jérôme Mulot (translated by M.B. Valente), Fantagraphics

This is essentially an X-Men comic, in the same way that Scanners or The Fury are X-Men movies. The ingredients of young superpowered protagonists providing both action sequences and romantic subplots, under the auspices of political commentary on the treatment of the different, are all accounted for. Ruppert & Mulot treat the action as a pretext for Ditko by way of Shintarō Kago psychedelic visuals, and render the interpersonal with a detachment that feels voyeuristic. The album format allows this to feel perfectly satisfying even as it ends on a cliffhanger that has me anticipating the still-to-come conclusion. It made me remember that X-Men used to be the biggest comic in this country, because why wouldn't this be?

Monica by Daniel Clowes, Fantagraphics

Clowes takes his Ice Haven approach, where he took the gag strip style seen in Twentieth Century Eightball and used it to sketch a portrait of a community, and applies it to the short story form seen in his collection Caricature to capture the life of an individual and the way it changes over time given different circumstances. Few cartoonists are as adept at capturing the ways people's choices of phrases betray so much about them, and Clowes is able to imbue the EC Shock SuspenStories form, driven by narrative captions, with genuine literary artistry - alive with character and never bogged down with excess verbiage. The scope of Monica's life feels like an examination of Generation X, drifting through the world without religion due to anger at hippie parents' pseudo-spirituality and general excess. Confronted by life's mysteries, they are attracted to cosmic horror because it suits their world-weary fatalism. I didn't read the book's apocalyptic ending as "real," except in the context that, as Monica's life ends without a family or a legacy, her death constitutes the end of the world for her. Clowes' own life is defined and redeemed by love and professional success, but this turn towards the apocalyptic in a clearly personal work felt guided by the spirit of Richard Sala, after much ruminating on the life and death of his friend. An incredible summation of an artist's already historic body of work, breaking new ground for the graphic novel form yet again.

Pebbles #1-2, Molly Colleen O’Connell, self-published

Another meditation on Generation X womanhood and parenting told through short stories, albeit from a younger artist, presenting a more fragmented consciousness. Issue 1 presents a handful of short strips, segueing in and out of anecdotal memories and funny animal gags, a Mr. Show take on dream logic, explaining in the last pages that the character of Pebbles, whom we've seen at various points in her life, is in a high-technology pod, cycling through it all. Issue two gives us longer scenes, but the sense of humor is still in evidence. It's been a few years since there've been new comics from O'Connell, and this presents the beginnings of her longest work yet, fully eccentric in its story sense in a way that's true to her established voice, but with a serialized format and sense of assurance that should convince newcomers to get on board.

Work-Life Balance by Aisha Franz (translated by Nicholas Houde), Drawn & Quarterly

The increasingly stripped-down style Franz has arrived at now feels like it has a Bushmiller-esque purity, but she tells a story with it that's deeper than gags. The real world and the digital world are now one, and this is captured on pages that read as smoothly as scrolling. Franz's cartooning is true to this sense of the modern world as a place where, due to the simplistic caricatures of the self demanded by the social media panopticon, people turn themselves into cartoon characters as a survival mechanism. The presence of a therapist as a character is not a way to suggest that readers should go to therapy, but an acknowledgment that "therapist" is a role one plays with the same cartoon-like remove as the rest of their LinkedIn network. Franz's vision never devolves into corporate pablum masquerading as aspirational content; the only way to achieve "work-life balance" in Franz's book is to tear apart the world one works in.

* * *

Todd Webb’s collection, The Poet, Volume One (Second House, published in 2020). What really makes it for me are the notes. I love the extras that come with a book: forewords, acknowledgements, appendices. He really went above and beyond, especially with the index. There’s a passage in the notes about having something comforting to read in hard times, and I can remember doing that a lot with my old Peanuts paperbacks. The Poet is the same kind of strip. I find it soothing in the same way. I’d even say it’s in the same class. There’s a lot going on beneath the surface, if one is looking.

* * *

Blood of the Virgin, Sammy Harkham (Pantheon)
Probably my favorite book in a long time. It's a time and setting I'm also obsessed with: B-movies in the '70s. Sammy made something really special and memorable here. It's wise and world-weary, but so full of love. The panel with the grandmother looking at the kid and remember her own lost child was an incredible punch in the stomach.

Monica, Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)
I was often confounded but it didn't matter, I always enjoyed the ride. I am on my second reading and it reveals more every time. Just a great cartoonist doing really innovative work.

Are You Willing To Die For the Cause?, Chris Oliveros (Drawn & Quarterly)
Best kind of nonfiction comic, totally engaging; it doesn't read like exposition, but still stays meticulously close to facts. Chris is a totally unique cartoonist. Draws buildings so beautifully!

Palookaville 24, Seth (Drawn & Quarterly)
I sometimes think we take these Palookavilles for granted, waiting 'til they're compiled into a big book, but Seth is doing some of the greatest writing of his career in here. It's a deep dive into memory and reflection, and it's beautiful stuff.

Juliette, Camille Jourdy, translated by Aleshia Jensen (Drawn & Quarterly)
Loved every panel of this. Gorgeously drawn, terrifically funny and so full of heart.

A Guest in the House, Emily Carroll (First Second)
Emily Carroll is the only cartoonist who has ever made horror that actually creeped me out. This is a great horror novel - suspenseful, scary, and with a villain you really want to get come-upped.

Roaming, Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly)
This might be their best collaboration yet, I think. It really captures the dynamic of traveling with other people and the freedom of being newly an adult. Jillian makes the entire thing cinematic with her masterful drawing and pacing.

Why Don’t You Love Me?, Paul B. Rainey (Drawn & Quarterly)
Completely unique in tone and fucks with your expectations for gigantic reveals in the end.

Esther's Notebooks, Riad Sattouf, translated by Sam Taylor (Pantheon)
Really effective attempt to write from another person's perspective. These are honest and funny and real. Please someone keep translating Riad's Arab of the Future series in English!!

Detention No. 2, Tim Hensley (Fantagraphics, published in 2022)
Beautiful and bonkers as all of Tim's work is. Smart and elegant and completely original.

Three Rocks, Bill Griffith (Abrams)
I love the fact that Griffith just started making longform books late in life and does really incredible work like this.

I'm sorry for all the books that I read and loved this year and forgot to list here. I probably liked your book too, I'm just losing my ability to retain anything!

I also have to say that I was so happy that Shortcomings was such a good movie and really captured the feel of Adrian's book. I cheered when I saw Adrian's cameo as the grumpy theater worker.

* * *

See, reader, here's the thing: I have read a lot of comics this year, and I do mean a lot (just shy of 600 as of this writing, about a third being stuff that came out this year). Once you get to a certain scope you have no choice but, paradoxically, to think of all of your limitations, all of your blind spots, all of those points where any pretenses of empirical bests start to buckle; the more you read, the more aware of your oversights and lacunae you grow.

With that said, some projects nonetheless merit a special mention, towering as they do over many other releases. One such book, long in the making and highly anticipated, was Eden II by K. Wroten (Fantagraphics), in which the social and communal intimacy that has long been in the heart of Wroten's work takes on a veritably, urgently cosmic existence; many are the would-be spiritualists that posit 'love' as the abstract heart of the universe, but Wroten is among the precious few who take the necessary extra step of interrogating and articulating what that love actually is, and the result is wonderful.

The finale (and subsequent collected edition) of Erika Price's Disorder (self-published) makes an interesting contrast to Wroten: a caustic scream of a book that manages the artistic feat of articulating (indeed, drowning inside) its experience of life as continuous crisis without romanticizing the pain. It is assaultive, and confrontational, and a truly stunning piece of work.

Roaming (Drawn & Quarterly) saw the tried-and-true creative team of Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki reunite for their longest book yet, though it may not immediately feel that way; like the Tamakis at their best, it is simultaneously laid-back (in both narrative and form) and compulsively readable.

A Guest in the House (First Second) constituted, I believe, Emily Carroll's longest solo effort yet, but it assuaged any worry that might come with such a scope - it is an assured, focused thing that carries its length without a problem, which is no small feat for a cartoonist mostly known for short-form work. I'd almost forgotten just how good Carroll's grasp on color is in particular - her coloring drowns you, washes over you, boldly tying together a genuine treat of a book.

The Gull Yettin by Joe Kessler (New York Review Comics) is a rare beast indeed, a silent comic that justifies its formal choice beyond the realm of gimmick-for-its-own sake; Kessler's bold linework and nigh-explosive coloring results in a work that feels ripped out of time and chronology, inserting itself into the lineage of woodcut proto-comics by Masereel and Ward yet feeling entirely fresh and new.

In memoirs and autobio we have been lucky enough to get fantastic work from both ends of the spectrum: the first chapter of Ezra David Mattes' A Terrified Child Played by Jeremy Strong (self-published) and Briana Loewinsohn's Ephemera (Fantagraphics) both chose to underscore the treacherous nature of recollective narrative by reveling in the internal-emotional world; on the other end, Deb JJ Lee's In Limbo (First Second) offered up the author's coming of age in a wonderfully ambivalent granularity that fits within the aesthetic du jour, while M.S. Harkness' Time Under Tension (Fantagraphics) calls back to the edge of previous generations' autobio comics while feeling compelled to pay homage to no-one.

This year also saw some striking longform debuts. The debut is a tricky beast, representing both an independent effort and the signifier of future prospects, but some voices emerge fully formed and make it through this 'struggle' unscathed. James Collier's The Lonesome Shepherd (Wig Shop) was a wonderful piece of sparse, airy cartooning, pleasantly written, while The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A. (Silver Sprocket) took the opposite approach: a loud, ornate, unmissable piece. Both works capture their voices perfectly, disparate as those may be, and leave one without a choice but to be excited for future efforts.

I admittedly struggle somewhat with the category loosely branded as "art-comics" (defining it, engaging with it), but the ShortBox Comics Fair saw two such works that rather knocked me over; Myraha Harmon-Arias' The Method of Loci and abuelaignea's say a both deal with a certain value of longing and grief—the former for an interpersonal, more specific presence, the latter for the theoretical figure of the reader, perpetually unknowable and abstract—while articulating these feelings beautifully. If successful art can be said to be a gnostic pursuit, then this gnosis beats powerfully at these works' very cores.

In anthologies we got a reprint of the first volume of Glaeolia (Glacier Bay Books), which I read alongside last year's third volume, both of them constituting a successful expansion of the alt-manga milieu, which is to say I knew very few of the names attached and by the end I was thrilled to have become acquainted with them; I sincerely hope that Glacier Bay continues this series.

We have likewise been fortunate in the offerings of translated material. In manga and gekiga, Fujiwara Maki's My Picture Diary (translated by Ryan Holmberg; Drawn & Quarterly) is perhaps the most noteworthy in this category, serving as it does as a potent demystification of Yoshiharu Tsuge's tortured artist self-justifications by offering an oft-overlooked context of external impact; yet, more importantly, it merits a special mention for just being a phenomenal piece of work even divorced of the Tsuge context, as one of the most moving books I've read this year. Minami's Lover by Shungiku Uchida (translated by H. Paige; Fantagraphics) and River's Edge by Kyoko Okazaki (translated by Alexa Frank; Kodansha) presented two inverted views of the viscera of teenage emotion: Uchida focused on the anxieties of a still-not-entirely-developed personality confronted with that most daunting of specters, of the paramount responsibility to care completely for somebody else, while Okazaki eschews the sincerity that comes with that anxiety, reveling in a fuck-you nihilism whose impact comes at the most natural time: when it's just too late to stop yourself, when you are truly confronted with the unbearable weight of life.

In Eurosphere reprints we've gotten two 'recontextualized' editions of material only partially available in English, both of them from New York Review Comics: the nigh-Ballardian dilapidated landscapes of Social Fiction by Chantal Montellier (translated by Geoffrey Brock), at once sweeping and particular, serve as a stark contrast to the primordial opacity of Anke Feuchtenberger & Katrin de Vries' W the Whore (translated by Mark David Nevins); the former is a selection of astute, razor-sharp observations of societal disillusionment while the latter revels in a perpetual ellipsis that defies explication. German small press Rotopol, meanwhile, presented us with the English edition of Max Baitinger's 2013 splendid graphic novella Heimdall, an existential-cum-ecclesiastic approach to the sentinel of the Norse gods that calls to mind the mythological comics of Anders Nilsen. Finally, Floating World offered Buzzelli Collected Works: The Labyrinth (translated by Jamie Richards), the first of three volumes collecting the work of Guido Buzzelli, a name I had been unfamiliar with; a gorgeous bit of primo Italian pulp-against-pulp, frenetic and propulsive and a joy from start to finish.

In the small-press collected sphere, too, we've seen re-releases of immensely worthy material originally self-published: Leo Fox's Prokaryote Season (Silver Sprocket) is wonderfully ornate without detracting from the sheer focus in storytelling, while Patrick Kyle's Baby (Breakdown Press) is about the closest I've ever seen a comic come to Samuel Beckett territories of conceptual decoherence. Breakdown Press also brought forth their new collection of Liam Cobb stories, What Awaits Them, bringing together a fantastic selection of the hysterical-realist comics that Breakdown excels at.

Finally, a bit of a cheat - that is to say, a word for certain 2023 books I have actually yet to receive my copies of, but which I am particularly anticipating, such as Ivana Filipovich's What’s Fear Got To Do With It? (Conundrum Press); the same goes for kuš!'s 2023 slate, kuš! being such a tight curatorial operation that there's plenty to chew on no matter what.

I can go on and on, but I won't keep you. Go forth and read some comics - if you're lucky, some of them might even be good.

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The year started with two books I loved: Where I’m Coming From (Drawn & Quarterly) by Barbara Brandon-Croft and Deena Mohamed’s Shubeik Lubeik (Pantheon).

Where I’m Coming From is such a gorgeous, fun, and insightful edition. Since the strip was conceived before I was, I found it invaluable to have it collected in one place with all the extra personal and historical material included. Not only does it offer a lot of perspective on the 1980s and '90s for those of us who were barely alive back then, but Brandon-Croft’s comics are still so relevant that I kept interrupting my reading to text pictures of strips to friends.

Shubeik Lubeik is a smart and moving read, and it shouldn’t be understated how lucky the English-speaking world is to have access to this work now. I found its balance of humorous and painful material—as well as Mohamed’s ability to weave real-world issues and fantasy together—to be completely inventive and welcome.

Midway through the year, I was enthusiastic to support new work from some of my long-time favorites: Olivier Schrauwen, CF and Carlos Gonzalez.

I experienced genuine awe in reading the conclusion of Olivier Schrauwen’s Sunday series in Sunday 5-6-7-X (Colorama). The fact that Schrauwen can take something as mundane and average as a guy watching The Da Vinci Code on the couch and turn it into a profound meditation on artmaking, design, language, and meaning is not only envy-inducing but deserves sustained laudation. It’s beautiful and surprising that the complexity, interconnectedness, and multi-voiced qualities I appreciate in Barbara Brandon-Croft’s work are traits I find shared in Olivier Schrauwen’s as I look back on what moved me the most in 2023.

Throughout the year, I was thrilled to continue receiving CF’s self-published Causeway series, especially #9, which gave early indication that his next book, Gymnasium, looks to be a 2024 follow-up to some of the story from William Softkey and the Purple Spider. Brilliant! I can’t wait for more!

Additionally, I was glad to see more of Carlos Gonzalez’s comics becoming easier to track down in Wasp Video Roadhouse (Floating World). I’m frequently delighted by his playful, obscure, and weird work - especially refreshing in an arena where most have comics-influencer aspirations.

Closing out the year, I’m glad I caught M.S. Harkness, Léonie Bischoff (all the way from Belgium!), and Caroline Cash for their event at Floating World Comics in November. M.S. Harkness blew me away presenting her book, Time Under Tension (Fantagraphics). I’m thankful to have witnessed someone as daring and honest as her in person as she elaborated on upsetting family stories while I stood next to her mom in the audience. Funny enough, this year I saw three different female authors include their mothers on book tours, and I believe we all are better for it! That same night, I was introduced to this year’s self-published installment of Stephen Pellnat’s gritty and well-drawn Upstate series (#3), which I’m eager to follow. I also appreciated coming across Karl Stevens’ and Katriona Chapman’s conversation in the second issue of Canon, as I continue to think about how systems for investing in art and distributing comics could change.

Looking to 2024, I hope to find more imaginative, truthful, and risk-taking work. And as always, I’d like to see artists and publishers develop more cooperative models for resource sharing, project funding, promotion, and preventing burnout among those of us who work in and care about this field.

* * *

Destroyer Duck: Graphite Edition, Jack Kirby & Steve Gerber (TwoMorrows)
As usual, the TwoMorrows gang serves up some gorgeous, previously unavailable Jack Kirby. '80s Kirby is the wackiest Kirby, and I love it. The circumstances—Kirby joining writer Steve Gerber in the fight against Marvel at their most malevolent—make the Destroyer Duck series a must to revisit, and the unadorned Kirby pencils that comprise this reprint are great.

The Man from Maybe, Shaky Kane & Jordan Thomas (Oni Press)
Speaking of Kirby, the unabashedly Kirbyesque Shaky Kane had a great year, including Monster Fan Club (with Jason T. Miles; Floating World) and Weird Work (with Jordan Thomas; Image), but The Man From Maybe was the highlight. I would buy this comic every month for the rest of my life, but I’ll have to settle for three perfectly bombastic issues. If you like humanoid dinosaurs dripping with purple goo, this is your jam.

Dai Dark, Q Hayashida, translated by Daniel Komen, adapted to English by Casey Lucas (Seven Seas)
This ongoing manga about the “Four Little Shits” led by Zaha Sanko and Shimada Death, is, in a way, a typical outcasts-against-the-evil-empire story. But every aspect of the series, from the way Shimada munches dead spirits to Sanko’s cheerful disposition as everyone tries to hijack his allegedly lucky bones, is so off-kilter that it feels like nothing you’ve ever read (except maybe Q Hayashida’s equally wonderful Dorohedoro).

The Enfield Gang Massacre, Chris Condon & Jacob Phillips (Image)
Jacob Phillips’ art, already strong, is getting bigger and bolder - in this series, a bit Tothian. With a format of mainly three widescreen panels per page, this is a fast read, but you’ll make up for it by looking at those pages again and again and again. This spin-off of That Texas Blood, an earlier series by the same team, proves the western is not dead, unlike many characters in this violent, compelling read.

Doctor Moebius and Mister Gir, Numa Sadoul, translated by Edward Gauvin (Dark Horse)
I haven’t read this collection of interviews with Moebius yet, but come on. It’s Moebius. As fellow genius Kirby said, “Don’t ask! Just buy it.”

Faceless and the Family, Matt Lesniewski (Oni Press)
Now you want to talk bananas, one-of-a-kind art, you’d better talk about what Matt Lesniewski is doing on Faceless and the Family. The textures, oh my lord, the textures. Lesniewski is my favorite kind of artist: one unlike every other artist.

The Ribbon Queen, Garth Ennis & Jacen Burrows (AWA)
This is a Garth Ennis horror comic and a cop comic - two genres he excels in. And, thanks to Jacen Burrows’ art, it is quite disgusting. Scores high on the Junji Itō body horror meter.

Signal, Tetsunori Tawaraya (Colour Code)
It’s not exactly a comic, but Tetsunori Tawaraya’s latest book is a collection so colorful and creative that it deserves a spot on my list and yours. I can look at this intricately detailed and imaginatively designed art all day long and twice on Wednesdays, when a single page of Tawaraya’s art blows away most new comic fare. Beautiful, beautiful stuff.

Bill Sienkiewicz's Mutants and Moon Knights and Assassins: Artisan Edition, Bill Sienkiewicz (IDW)
Back in the faraway time of 1986, I’m pretty sure Bill Sienkiewicz’s art on Elektra: Assassin jump-started my puberty, but that’s another story. This collection of original art from Sienkiewicz’s Moon Knight, New Mutants, Daredevil and Elektra: Assassin is a showcase of one of the greats up to his bolting from the corporate comics barn. This isn’t just must-see, but must-gawk-at-droolingly.

I Am Stan, Tom Scioli (Ten Speed Press)
I was piqued when I found out Kirby acolyte (and biographer) Tom Scioli was doing a Stan Lee biography as well. The results are fascinating - Scioli has formed a whole new style, different from his early Kirbyesque style, his expansive Transformers vs. G.I. Joe style, and his cramped Fantastic Four: Grand Design style. Here he keeps it loose and widescreen, opting for eminently readable pages that echo his glib subject. Warning: I Am Stan is the prettiest horror comic of the year.

Chainsaw Man, Tatsuki Fujimoto (translated by Amanda Haley; VIZ)
Yes, I know, you’re already reading it. So is everybody. Well, I’m in everybody too.

Starseeds 3, Charles Glaubitz (Fantagraphics)
This Kirbyesque cosmic saga returned for its third installment, and Charles Glaubitz’s art just gets more big and bold, like he’s mainlining some Philipe Druillet. Starseeds is the most visually compelling mythology in comics, and I can’t wait for the next chapter.

Boy Maximortal #4, Rick Veitch (King Hell/Sun Comics)
The more I read and reread Rick Veitch’s King Hell Heroica, of which Boy Maximortal is one chapter, concluded here, the more I think it’s the ultimate Superman story - not to mention the finest work of the most underrated creator in comics. Featuring J. Edgar Hoover and John F. Kennedy, plus analogues of Jerry Siegel and various corporate comics scumbags, Veitch weaves science and myth and history into a story that feels like the first and last of the genre. Please, for the love of craptonite, catch up on this series.

Rooster Fighter, Shū Sakuratani (translated by Jonah Mayahara-Miller; VIZ)
A rooster fights giant monsters. What more do you want?

New Pets, Jesse Jacobs (Hollow Press)
I was going to end there, but holy Christmas present to me, I just read New Pets by Jesse Jacobs, which might be my favorite of everything on this list. If you read Jacobs’ transcendental, immortal Crawl Space, you’ll know he’s capable of twisting colors and shapes into abstract beings that can be equally adorable and terrifying. Reading New Pets feels like entering a different universe, which is what comics do best, but don’t do nearly enough. Highly recommended, with or without edibles. This comic made me go “wow” for the rest of the day.

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2023 was my first year to return to zine festivals in quite a while, and I was able to attend CAKE in Chicago, SPX in Bethesda, Maryland, and the local Small Press Fest in Urbana, Illinois. These events were, once again, a wonderful opportunity talk to every kind of comic maker and publisher. Recognizing the "best" zines of any given year is a futile adventure due to the enormous quantity and variety of work that is made each year. Even if I could dedicate a whole year with an unlimited budget to such a project, it would still only represent a slim arbitrary and biased slice of the vast lot of exceptional work being created. With all those caveats aside and with all due humility, the zines that caught my eye this year were the ones that achieved, with a limited means, something unconventional and captivating. With zinecraft, I especially appreciate the handmade elements and the attention to detail that makes a zine a truly unique narrative object to experience.

At CAKE and SPX Julia Gfrörer had a large collection of impressive zines where she employs delicate and intricate line work to fashion immersive and sensual worlds, such as in Dark Age. She has long been a dedicated zine maker who also gives back to the community with several excellent guides to zine making (Thuban Press Guide to Analog Self Publishing and Zine Crisis Manifesto). My prize for the most imaginative zine format was a pizza-shaped comic by Kyle O'Connell and Beth Hetland. It is a lovely object to explore and its design speaks eloquently of their long collaboration. Discussing puppets and comics with Keren Katz was an unexpected pleasure. Her zine, Puppet School Homework, is a meditation on the subtle physical pull between the puppet and the performer. Another highlight of SPX for me was reminiscing with Bill Griffith about the Doggie Diner icon from San Francisco. Griffith's newly published Three Rocks is an exceptional guide to the life of Ernie Bushmiller and all things Nancy. Griffith's enthusiasm for Nancy is infectious as he provides valuable insight into the challenges and sacrifices Bushmiller made in pursuit of his craft.

Risograph reproductions were everywhere to be found, and so too were plenty of vaguely retro designs with garish colors. Back in 2015, Ryan Heshka's Mean Girls Club was a joy to discover, but now Risograph has become so ubiquitous that it has almost become the default mode of printing for many zine makers. Among the multitudes of examples I found some excellent zines: Dog World by Eileen Chavez; Sikh Femmes in Sick Fashion by Jasjyot Singh Hans; and Night in the City by Will Arnold. All were vivid reminders of what I enjoy about the delightfully quirky and uncanny worlds that one can discover inside zines. The appeal of Risographic reproduction is obvious; it offers a hand-made look with greater speed and convenience. However, I had hoped to find more innovation in zine print production.

The smallest of the zine festivals I visited, in Urbana, Illinois, was no less significant in quality and dedication. Coexist: A More-Than-Human Society from the Ren S.K. Studio is the first of a new series that delves into ecological issues with spirit and grace. Printed using plant-based ink with hand-stitched cotton thread binding, the zine confidently states that it can be safely burned. The absolutely minuscule zines of Rachel Bard were a wonder to behold. Keep Them Safe was tucked into a seashell, and Changelings was a fold-out in the shape of a tiny baby. Here, I also met the youngest zine maker participating in a festival. Rennie Stephens had A Sock's Life for sale, which was his first-ever comic brought to a zine expo. The joys of zine culture often comes from just this kind of open embrace of creative ambition.

Lastly, I dipped my toe into the UK online ShortBox Comics Fair to discover the brilliantly funny Game Over by Lucy Dodds, which begins with a young boy professing his desire to be a pro wrestler and a school administrator lamenting who on God's green earth thought a primary school career counsellor was a good idea. What follows, years later, is that a now-older, distractible office worker is forced to confront the real-world limits of his video game fantasy of being a pro wrestler. This spare comic is something between a coming-of-age story and a fall from grace.

Several mainstream publications I got excited about this year were new translations or reprints of older works. One of my longtime favorites returned: W the Whore (translated by Mark David Nevins; New York Review Comics), drawn by Anke Feuchtenberger and with text by Katrin de Vries, two German creatives that joined forces following reunification. The new edition reprints earlier work that I thoroughly enjoyed in the early 2000s with some other work that is translated for the first time; it shows how the style of the artwork and the character of the stories shifted over the years, and provides a deeper appreciation for the imaginative and poetic world that emerges from this collaboration. W the Whore is a fantasy that rests on the unsettling truth that female sexuality is still largely defined by men. Hence the name "Whore" remains an open question that challenges the reader to reconcile what we think it means with the lead character's search for self through vivid dreamscapes. De Vries' language is poetic and spare, and Feuchtenberger's imagery places the action in a psychologically suggestive wonderland. Together, the words and images, like Germany itself, never comfortably unify.

The theme of the artist and their craft was also found in my favorite graphic novel of the year, the newly translated Anaïs Nin: A Sea of Lies by Léonie Bischoff (translated by Jenna Allen; Fantagraphics). This comic is an artistic triumph of great beauty and complexity, as it reveals the multiple conflicting impulses of a writer who made her own life a work of art, and who surrendered her own body in the pursuit of her writing. Bischoff exquisitely sets the scene and time period of these events in Nin’s life and gives visceral intensity to the passions that drive the story. While the book presents a sympathetic portrait of Anaïs Nin, she is a paradoxical character who defies easy appreciation.

Next year, I am eagerly awaiting the publication of the second part to My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris and How to Baby: A No-Advice-Given Guide to Motherhood by Liana Finck. The later comes just in time to accompany the first grandchild in my family. I also hope to take in more zine events. This time I intend to share my own upcoming zine publication, Loculus.

* * *

I never like to make a “best” list at year’s end - I love making “favorite” lists. How could one person possibly deduce the “best” of anything in a year, let alone something as incredibly vast as comics? There may be some savants who could do it, but I certainly know I couldn’t. Here are my favorite 2023 comics - the comics that I personally liked the most:

#1: Just a Little Boy by Nate McDonough (self-published) — Bill Boichel of Pittsburgh’s Copacetic Comics Company repurposed another item's “New York Times Notable Book” stickers for this. It’s a good goof; McDonough’s crude, angry, gross underground comics aren’t easy to imagine being consumed alongside a glass of wine by a New York Times reader. I’d say the joke resonates beyond that basic fact, though - Just a Little Boy, McDonough’s magnum opus, reads like a rich, thoughtful Charlie Kaufman movie filtered through crude, angry, gross underground comics language. There’s a certain lyricism to its storytelling, and a satisfying, clear sense that McDonough is dealing on the page with his own discontent with capitalist brutality and religious authoritarianism. An authentic, special work, singularly conceived by an earnest artist. McDonough served as the subject of a profile I did, my first ever piece for this site, in the summer of 2021 - when, according to the book’s opening page, he began drawing Just a Little Boy. So, there’s some full-circle specialness to this comic for me as well.

#2: The Collected Audra Show by Audra Stang (self-published) – After being charmed by Audra Stang’s beautiful pencils and endearing storytelling in her Rust Belt Review serial "Tunnel Vision," I grabbed The Collected Audra Show and was absolutely delighted by it. The combination of adorably dorky, awkward characters with dashes of sex and magical realist weirdness, all rendered in sturdy cartooning elevated by gorgeous marker coloring, makes for such an engulfing and wonderful read.

#3: Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics) – I love when a comic release is an event, and Monica certainly fits the bill. Did you see that A24 darling Ari Aster called it the best book of 2023 in a very strange CNN Style list of top picks from “global tastemakers”? That’s so cool! It’s a masterpiece for all of the reasons you’ve already heard - I won’t waste your time singing those same praises in a worse way.

#4: Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki (Drawn & Quarterly) – Underneath this book’s jacket is a beautiful swirl of the comic’s only four colors: black, white, blue and tan. It really represents this book’s essence - a few hues to carry the story’s dynamic cartooning and deft, complex characterization. It’s mesmerizing.

#5: Juliette by Camille Jourdy (translated by Aleshia Jensen; Drawn & Quarterly) – A really intelligent, literary story realized with beautiful watercolor artwork. Stayed tuned for a review of this from yours truly, my debut review for TCJ.

#6: Time Under Tension by M.S. Harkness (Fantagraphics) – When I interviewed M.S. Harkness, she pushed back against the view some have of memoir as a lazy route for storytellers without any original ideas by saying, “I think about memoir in the way that I think people think about fiction and how to construct it and how to put it together.” This totally rings true with her latest graphic novel, Time Under Tension, a creatively structured, formally varied and wonderfully crafted story.

#7: Dark Spaces: Dungeon by Scott Snyder, Hayden Sherman, Patricio Delpeche & AndWorld Design (IDW) — Finally, a Scott Snyder comic I absolutely love, bringing me back to my high school obsession with him when he was a superstar at the start of my comics reading, circa 2011. He lost me with the Grant Morrison fanfic flavor of his later DC work, and hasn’t fully brought me back until now.

#8: I Am Stan by Tom Scioli (Ten Speed Press) – An honest telling of the Stan Lee story with more artistry than one might expect from a comics biography - a few scenes, including the unforgettable, haunting opening page, will come to mind whenever I think of Stan Lee.

#9: The He-Man Effect by Box Brown (First Second) – If you ask me, this is peak Box Brown, the logical culmination of his work: a skeptical, well-researched biographical take on the geek culture so crucial to Brown’s and many of his fans’ upbringing.

#10: Eden II by K. Wroten (Fantagraphics) – If Just a Little Boy is a Charlie Kaufman movie filtered through the crude, angry, gross underground comics language of Nate McDonough, this is Infinite Jest filtered through the modern, queer, indie comics language of K. Wroten. Perhaps a bit messy, but in a way that underscores the complex ideas with which Wroten thoughtfully wrestles.

#11: Dear Mini: A Graphic Memoir, Book One by Natalie Norris (Fantagraphics) – This auspicious debut from Natalie Norris is special thanks to Norris’ masterfully blurred use of diary-like narration and sketchbook-like cartooning to vulnerably tell a gripping story.

#12: A Guest in the House by Emily Carroll (First Second) – While I loved the striking artwork in Emily Carroll’s Through the Woods, it didn’t stick with me. However, A Guest in the House’s mix of realistic domestic storytelling with dashes of stunningly rendered horror and fantasy elements hit the spot.

#13: The Deviant by James Tynion IV, Joshua Hixson & Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou (Image) – I’ve always enjoyed James Tynion IV’s comics, but I’ve found myself wishing he’d try putting aside sexy characters in farcical situations in exchange for something a bit more existential and grounded. This is it.

#14: Lovesick by Luana Vecchio (translated by Edward Caio; Image) – All that being said, I also love a horror story that’s sexy, fun trash. I had lots of fun following Lovesick as it released in single issues.

#15: Werewolf Jones & Sons® Deluxe Summer Fun Annual! by Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger (Fantagraphics) and You Will Own Nothing and You Will be Happy #1 by Simon Hanselmann (self-published) – New Megg, Mogg and Owl never fails to excite me.

#16: Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees by Patrick Horvath with Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou (IDW) – A rare direct market comic from a talented writer-artist, Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees has the benefit of also having a great elevator pitch with mass appeal (serial killers among adorable cartoon animals). A fun comic I’ve been able to love and easily recommend to friends.

#17: Bone Orchard: Tenement by Jeff Lemire, Andrea Sorrentino, Dave Stewart & Steve Wands (Image) and Fishflies by Jeff Lemire with Steve Wands (Image) – Jeff Lemire’s fantastic The Underwater Welder came out right around when I started to become a comics reader, and I’ve never stopped picking up and (mostly) enjoying his stuff. Tenement and Fishflies are my recent favorites.

#18: Ice Cream Man by W. Maxwell Prince, Martín Morazzo, Chris O'Halloran & Good Old Neon (Image) – Ask me for my favorite ongoing direct market comic, and Ice Cream Man is an easy answer. Even if this year’s issues don’t rank at the top of my favorite entries in this awesome series, I’ll always be pumped to read a new one.

#19: Highlights from DC Comics – Birds of Prey from Kelly Thompson, Leonardo Romero, Jordie Bellaire & Clayton Cowles blew me away more than anything else from the big two this year. I’m also destined to fall in love with anything Tom King writes - Wonder Woman with Daniel Sampere, The Penguin with Rafael de Latorre and Batman: The Winning Card with Mitch Gerads (serialized in Batman: The Brave and the Bold) stood out the most to me. I also dug the slickly drawn and interesting The Flash reboot from Simon Spurrier, Mike Deodato Jr.,
Trish Mulvihill & Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou; the dependable Superman reboot from Joshua Williamson and various artists (my favorite being the gloriously chunky pencils of Gleb Melnikov on issues #6-7); the dumb fun of the Green Lantern reboot by Jeremy Adams, Xermanico,
Romulo Fajardo Jr. & Dave Sharpe and its cool, horror-bent backup serial by Phillip Kennedy Johnson, Montos, Adriano Lucas & Dave Sharpe; and the surprisingly compelling movie tie-in The Riddler: Year One from Paul Dano, Stevan Subic & Clayton Cowles.

#20: Highlights from Marvel Comics – I’m a sucker for the Spider-Man books: the delightfully trashy The Amazing Spider-Man by Zeb Wells, with art primarily by John Romita Jr. and Ed McGuinness; the comic nonsense of Spider-Man & Superior Spider-Man by Dan Slott and, primarily, Mark Bagley (Slott’s Amazing Spider-Man being one of the key titles that got me into ongoing superhero comics in high school); and the super-fun, flashy and well-characterized Miles Morales: Spider-Man by Cody Ziglar and, primarily, Federico Vicentini. I also really liked Fantastic Four by Ryan North and, primarily, Iban Coello; the other Phillip Kennedy Johnson-written horror-bent superhero comic, The Incredible Hulk, with art by Nic Klein; the just-launched Punisher by David Pepose, Dave Wachter, Dan Brown & Cory Petit; and The Immortal Thor by Al Ewing, Martín Cóccolo, Matthew Wilson & Joe Sabino. And I can’t forget the stunning comics given the oversized Treasury Edition treatment this year: Doctor Strange: Fall Sunrise by Tradd Moore & Heather Moore; and Hulk: Grand Design by Jim Rugg.

* * *

2023 was… a rough year. Not just for us as individuals, not just for us as a planet full of people, but for the comics industry as a particular area of concern for this publication.

The decision of big tech to push AI resulted in yet another looming threat to writers and artists; ongoing attempts by creators to unionize and get fair pay for the work they do were met with the usual hostility from publishers; consolidation and finiancialization continued to inflict damage on both small companies and independent artists; superhero franchise movies, which dominated the box office for a decade while starving most attempts at wider success for those who worked in different genres of comics art, began to struggle, making producers shy of the entire medium; and, of course, comics’ own versions of culture wars–as usual, battles over the narcissism of small differences served as a distraction from more important issues that could benefit the entire community–raged on over social media.

2024 isn’t likely to be much better, honestly. So, there’s some comfort to be had in the familiar contours of a good old fashioned top ten list. With the usual caveat that these are simply my favorites of the year, and not any kind of hierarchical ranking, let’s fucking go:

The Enfield Gang Massacre, Chris Condon & Jacob Phillips (Image)

The western genre is one that hasn’t quite made a big comeback despite its onetime prominence in the comics industry. Despite many valiant attempts, the frontier is gone forever (or at least relocated to inner or outer space) and readers have lost interest in revisiting its boundaries. Nonetheless, talented creators keep reaching back to dust off the old boots and revolvers, and The Enfield Gang Massacre, from That Texas Blood's team of Chris Condon & Jacob Phillips, is this year’s standout. It’s not entirely outside the postmodern pipeline followed by most contemporary genre practitioners, but Phillips’ dead-on illustrative work and Condon’s skillful linkage of noir-western storytelling with a clever take on traditional sunset-of-an-era atmosphere gives the book a powerful two-gun punch.

The Exile, Erik Kriek (Living the Line)

Another almost-vanished genre in comics, the wild and wooly Viking tale was never as big in the U.S. as it was overseas, so it’s entirely appropriate that its finest recent revival was from Dutch artist Erik Kriek. The Exile, which I reviewed here, combines the classic old-school swords-and-spells vibe with a dark, moody take on the cost of power and revenge. Filled with memorable characters and a striking use of color, The Exile, like The Enfield Gang Massacre, has a distinctly modern feel and a surprising emotional palette, but is unashamed in its embrace of the rollicking adventure and action of its predecessors.

A Guest in the House, Emily Carroll (First Second)

One of the easiest layups on this list, A Guest in the House–the best work yet from someone already at the top of the heap of comics horror–is not just a progression between points for Emily Carroll, but a great leap forward with craft, skill and tone. The story involves a young, newly married woman whose relocation to a small lake house dredges up past trauma, but it's told with such mastery of mood and implication that its plot takes second place to an implacably chilling atmosphere. Carroll’s experiments with layout and design perfectly match the creeping, disturbing progress of the story itself.

I’m a Cop: Real-Life Horror Comics, Jonny Damm (self-published)

Barely even a zine, underground artist Jonny Damm’s I’m a Cop: Real-Life Horror Comics (which saw its second issue released this year) is nonetheless a powerful indictment of one of the most prevalent wrongs in contemporary society, and it delivers its fierce message with nothing more than panels lifted from old crime and horror comics, paired with direct quotes of police union leaders and other high-ranking cops who hang themselves with their own nooses. It’s one of those ideas so simple that it works practically from the moment it starts. Damm’s direct approach does more to condemn the brutality and corruption of modern law enforcement than academic tomes ten times its length.

Mr. Block: The Subversive Comics and Writings of Ernest Riebe, edited by The Graphic History Collective with Paul Buhle & Iain McIntyre (PM Press)

I make no secret of my political leanings, but we don’t often get a collection–either contemporary or in reprint–of leftist comics that are both funny and perceptive. Maybe that’s because every generation has scrambled to beat the work done over a century ago by Ernest Riebe, a German immigrant and member of the International Workers of the World. Despite their age, Riebe’s hilarious, distinctively drawn strips featuring Mr. Block (a perpetual sucker who forsakes union solidarity in exchange for the never-met promises of predatory bosses) are as relevant today as they ever were, if not more so.

Monica, Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)

Placing a book by Dan Clowes on one of these lists seems like a bit of a cop-out, given what great work is being done by young unknowns in the comics industry today. But the greats are greats for a reason, and Clowes has spent the last 30 years getting better and better. Monica tells nine interconnected stories, each in a recognizable but varying visual style that establishes Clowes’ deep knowledge of the medium’s history, that are alternately dark and personal and savagely funny in all the ways we’ve come to expect from him. It’s not his masterpiece, but it’s one of his best, and proof that he belongs in any conversation about the greatest living American cartoonists.

Parasocial, Alex de Campi & Erica Henderson (Image)

A smooth, highly developed work from two of the best creators in comics right now, Parasocial lives up to its name by rolling out (in wildly careening vibes, brilliant colors, and surprisingly effortless integration of digital media) the story of a minor celebrity and the strange turns his life takes when he encounters fans and stalkers in the fading days of his career. Marked by tight storytelling and interesting shadings of familiar ideas, it’s professionally executed on almost every level and tells a compelling story of what it means to relate to the famous–and how they relate to us–in the internet age.

The Second Fake Death of Eddie Campbell, Eddie Campbell (Top Shelf)

Speaking of old pros, Eddie Campbell has been doing comics since the late 1970s, and creating inverted, metafictional stories about his stories starring himself and his actual friends and loved ones, for almost as long. The Second Fake Death of Eddie Campbell is a sort of sequel to 2006’s The Fate of the Artist (reprinted in this volume) that both extends and subverts the original work in unexpected ways. The choice of digital lettering is a pretty major disappointment, but when set against the clever funhouse mirror work of a superior artist, it doesn’t stop this from being a must-read.

Shubeik Lubeik, Deena Mohamed (Pantheon)

Egyptian artist Deena Mohamed isn’t yet 30, but she’s already made a big splash in the comics world for her fascinating, clean linework and writing that brings contemplations on religion, feminism and politics into a setting both fantastic and recognizable. Shubeik Lubeik (“Your Wish is My Command”) pulls off the significant trick of combining Arabic mythology with modern post-industrial capitalism through vendors in a magical Cairo that have managed to commodify wishes. It’s a politically savvy work, but it also has humor both sharp and sympathetic, and it keeps believable characters always at the forefront to ground its economic critique.

Slava: After the Fall, Pierre-Henry Gomont (translated by Edward Gauvin; Europe Comics)

Closing out with another book from an established talent, but one that also treats the devastating effects of capitalism with both dread and good humor, French artist Pierre-Henry Gomont gives us Slava: After the Fall, the story of a hustler in post-Soviet Russia scrambling to convert the remains of the communist state into personal profit. Gomont cartoons in the classic European style, with gorgeous colors and elegant, playful lines, but his dialogue is modern, natural and sharp, and he uses clever visual effects throughout this portrait of humanity untethered from any notion of a social contract. It’s relevant, funny and frightening.

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I considered prefacing this list with the standard introduction, situating my choices in the context of a changing comics market and the progression of the medium through three millennia of graphic arts evolution. You know, the proper TCJ treatment. It occurred to me, however, that none of us are being paid for this post, and, in any event, nobody (myself included) gives half a damn what I thought about this year’s comics to begin with. Also, it’s Christmas Eve, I’m tired.

So, let’s get this over with: ten entries, two honorable mentions, and a maximum of two sentences given over to each. These were my favorite comics of 2023.

Honorable Mention: Night Cruising by Harry Nordlinger (Floating World). With every venture into his peculiar brand of clean-lined suburban discomfort, Nordlinger continues to impress. Night Cruising progresses with the inevitable tension of vintage EC, but with the place of ghouls taken by the agonizing ugliness of human existence.

Honorable Mention: Perry Shitlife by S.R. Arnold (H.O.T. Press Comics). Arnold’s second outing as both writer and artist marks his rapid progression into one of the rising stars of the Philadelphia scene. The ongoing sordid saga of the autobiographical Perry (last seen being annihilated in a nuclear holocaust) backtracks to recount his days of addictive self-destruction, and the painful road to rock bottom.

10. Unended by Josh Bayer (Uncivilized) – Bizarre, off-putting, and drawn with the frantic, scratchy rendering of a furiously talented artist getting everything on paper before it combusts by its own power. An unpleasant book to read in the moment, but more brilliant the longer it sits with you.

9. Dédales Vol. 3 by Charles Burns (Éditions Cornélius) – Incredibly, this deep into his career, Charles Burns continues to refine and improve his craft. This concluding volume of his latest work, impossible to summarize in a way that doesn’t meaningfully give away the game, is his most powerful and unsettling achievement to date.

8. You Are Not a Guest by Leela Corman (Fieldmouse Press) – A book about motherhood, pain, historical memory, and the intermixing of grief and hope. Corman’s watercolors and pen strokes evoke Chagall, and her combination of prose and disconnected panels push the definition of a graphic novel, but the result is still a work of art.

7. PeePee PooPoo by Caroline Cash (Silver Sprocket) – Yes, it’s unapologetically doing the Eightball thing, and no, it isn’t pressing into any new territories of comic art. But who cares - Cash is very, very good at what she does, and to see a book as funny and true as this press on in periodical form is a shot across the bow to cartoonists everywhere.

6. I Wish I Was Stupid by Ebisu Yoshikazu (translated by Ryan Holmberg; Breakdown Press) – Feels a little like cheating, listing translations of work that's been lauded for four decades going. But this angry, punky book remains as vicious and compelling as it ever was.

5. Time Under Tension by M.S. Harkness (Fantagraphics) – Harkness’ blocky linework and well-behaved panel grids downplay a confessional honesty and storytelling genius that puts most other working cartoonists to shame. A poignant, funny, deeply satisfying graphic novel.

4. Nejishiki by Yoshiharu Tsuge (translated by Ryan Holmberg; Drawn & Quarterly) – This collection of half-century-old Japanese comics is as surreal and overpowering as it must have been on publication, and maybe more so. Stories about men and women devoured, physically and spiritually, by the land and environment in which they place their trust.

3. Flippy by Nate Garcia (Domino Books) – We must all collectively take a vow never to tell Nate Garcia how good at comics he is, because to inflate his ego at an age as young and formative as his is to threaten the further development of what may be the most explosively funny and original an artist as we’ve seen in quite some time. We must instead simply savor every perfect, filthy comic he gives us, and keep our mouths shut forever.

2. Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics) – The world does not need another windbaggy, laudatory review of Daniel Clowes’ book. Nevertheless, they are all correct: this intricate, bleak, despairing experiment in unreliable narration is, improbably, his magnum opus.

1. Blood of the Virgin by Sammy Harkham (Pantheon) – I am definitely cheating by giving first place on this list to a once-serialized book whose final installment came out in 2022. I am also cheating by giving it more than two sentences. I don’t care. Reading Blood of the Virgin in collected form is a fundamentally different experience from its nigh-endless years of publication in Harkham’s Crickets. While the latter format stressed the story’s laborious passage of time, and the gradual and nearly-imperceptible movement of its characters’ lives, this collected edition reveals the thematic cohesion and formal consistency that had always been there. And remaining in place are Harkham’s powerful, human explorations of longing, connection, failure, and the weight of family history. It’s a masterpiece.

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As much as I enjoyed the contrast between finely detailed detonations and the massive, almost comically exaggerated facial expressions of Susumu Higa’s Okinawa (Fantagraphics) or the elasticated mayhem seen in Ablaze’s reprint of Osamu Tezuka’s '70s serial One Hundred Tales, nothing else published in 2023 transmitted the kind of pure elation I felt when seeing Optimus Prime seize hold of Starsceam’s arm cannon before spinning the treacherous Air Commander around—while maintaining null-ray control—straight into a thundering, step-through ripcord lariat. Daniel Warren Johnson & Mike Spicer’s take on Transformers has already dispensed with towering, ivory turncoats and beloved penny-racers, but the biggest shake-up seen in this new Image and Skybound Entertainment series are the ways in which these mechanoids physically express themselves, both when dealing with the fragile inhabitants of planet Earth and each other. Starscream, the acting leader of this comic’s marooned Decepticons, has delighted in his ability to smear the human germs who would otherwise pilot his jet-fighter alternative mode. Autobot Commander Prime, on the other hand, has recoiled from the divots his enormous body leaves on Earth’s soft surfaces, channeling his dwindling energy supply into a style of hand-to-hand combat instantly evocative of Japanese professional wrestling. Not only does Optimus deliver the hellacious Rainmaker described above (the signature move of New Japan Pro Wrestling’s Golden Boy, Kazuchika Okada), in issue #3 Prime demonstrates his tape-trading bonafides by driving Skywarp’s head into the dirt with Kenta Kobashi’s Burning Hammer.

This inverted Death Valley Driver is a technique so genuinely dangerous for its passenger that (so legend says) many promotions are not prepared to sign off on the move. Writer-artist Johnson’s insistence that this Optimus Prime walk The King’s Road of 1980s All Japan Pro Wrestling isn’t fanboy affectation either. The decision taps into Prime’s pre-Transformers history as Battle Convoy, a converting Freightliner semi-trailer issued in 1982 as part of the Japanese Diaclone toy line and designed by Hiroyuki Obara and Super Dimension Fortress Macross supremo Shōji Kawamori. As such, Optimus Prime begs to be contextualized as a heroic envoy of Japan’s bubble era popular culture; the gleaming diecast product that left a Superman-sized impression on children the world over.

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As they say, the worse it gets, the better the art(s). Sadly, comics, as video games, aren't as such. So I have to quote Al Capp here: “a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered.” Wait, those weren't his thoughts on comics, but on abstract art.

*takes his seat at the singles bar*

After a long hiatus, Dustin Weaver's Paklis (Image) is back, and graced the year of our lord 2023 with two new issues, #6-7. Please read “They'll Bury You Where You Stand!” from Paklis #6, the best neo western since Fleisher's and Giffen's (R.I.P. and sorely missed) short Hex run and "Once Upon a Time in the Future" by Brett Lewis with Eduardo Risso from 2001's Weird Western Tales #3, and furthermore an æsthetically condensed re-evaluation of the Blueberry episode “Angel Face” by Jean-Michel Charlier and Jean Giraud (Mœbius). There's also an uncensored penis, so you won't need a gun.

What would this yearly column be without unpaid product placement for Marvel - because payments are so 2010s! So just let me say, as a low point remains No Way Home's embarrassing devaluation of the spider-verse by ignoring Nicholas Hammond; nota bene, “don't let Zack Snyder get a shot at the spider” is a way better working spider-verse. While at odds, friendly neighborhood publisher Domino Books offered Bonding, a glimpse at a corner of the spider-verse rarely/barely seen, and it's all pretty swell, courtesy of Cristian Castelo. But it's the bonus one-pager “Here Comes Spidey” by Miles MacDiarmid that has to be seen to be believed... shots fired! They at least got that right in No Way Home, when asking Tobey Maguire about whether the webbings coming straight out of his body.

While coming alone might turn out to be a tad bit exhausting in the long run, coming together is not always the best solution either. Maria Llovet, for one, did her homework and returned to writing her own comics, to way better results than hooking up with a formulaic guy like Azza. Crave (Image) delivers hard, as its title promises, and leaves you wanting more. It has S&M, algorithmic wish fulfillment, and exposure to degradation.

Semi-Science Fiction by Léa Murawiec (Flutiste) is the illegitimate daughter of Pushwagner's Soft City and Chantal Montellier's Shelter. The draughtswoman plays around with height differences and nose-diving perspectives to stage a constantly vertiginous environment. There are also hints at the lore of lost places, a popular diversion common among young people, also known as “abandoned premises.” Though the latter should be changed to “promises” to uncover the deeper state of mind leading such descendants off the map. A frighteningly beautiful opportunity to explore not only the world we left behind, but also the one that's coming.

And since everybody (me) is giving fucks (galore) today:

Furthermore on the anatomical theme, in the series' fourth installment a baby's birth is brought after one of the sun's sons, Ivan, performs cunnilingus on a fellow black sun daughter, Ophelia, swallowing a black sun-shaped hull just as it leaves the girl's vulva. The most remarkable thing here is, technically, it makes both featured sexes breeders while representing the underlying theme of diversity.

Go here for my full-length review of Children of the Black Sun, a fumetto nero, so to say.

Nothing slayed as hard as Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons (DC), mostly from a fashionista-feminista POV. The overall costume design was purest haute couture, and for a while it managed to keep me away from overpriced fashion mags. There are even designs for attractive men's outfits, which rarely happens in the real world. Listen: this three-part miniseries doeth count, because—and opposite to the release date printed in the final issue—it actually finished its run in 2023, and was collected in June. It is also written in an appealing style, and the artwork and coloring are simply out of this world. If you want some more background on the story, this TCJ review by Tegan O'Neil will fill you in competently. I still wonder how you get away with progressive anti-male-chauvinist-pig stuff like this at the house of scabs, which brought you abominations like Dumbsday Cock and B4WM.

Honorable mentions:

Pete Toms' God's Little Goons: Act One (self-published) for the most angelic opening.

Bhanu Pratap's contribution to the Cronenberg fanzine Murdered Futures (self-published), organically appropriate.

David King's John Forte story for But is it...Comic Aht? #4 (Domino Books), outrageously heartbreaking.

Stripburger #81 (Stripburger), a hot mess with Danijel Žeželj paying tribute to sov block concrete brutalism, and Malin Biller deeply diving into surveillance of the closest kind.

Paul Jon Milne's Torse (self-published) for coming up with buddy horror, featuring the most beautifully colored body fluids ever captured on paper.

Gina Wynbrandt for saving humanity by being merciless against herself in You're the Center of Attention (kuš!).

Gareth Brookes for exploring new sexualities by visiting virtual gyms with tracing paper in Gym Gains (kuš!).

Joe Sparrow for thinking of impressive ways to lettering occurrences and staging impressive kaleidoscopic panel arrangements in Cuckoo (ShortBox).

As every other year, Tym Godek did a gorgeously haunting 30 days of comics on his Tumblr, which might sing to some.

Derek M. Ballard does the most kinetic cartooning on the planet. Check his Cartoonshow (Oni Press) to find out about single parenting from the male gaze; huge lettered characters visualizing my HAHAHA now.

Ténèbres by Guillaume Soulatges is the missing link between its publisher, Adverse, and Le dernier cri. It's extremely pornographic and drenched in cum up to its filthy neck, but sadly, also art.

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1. Océan Express, François Ayroles (L'Association)
Both beautifully drawn and elegantly minimal, this is absolutely one of the year's best BDs. The way it's witty, compassionate and simple yet never simplistic is uplifting. A welcome change!

2. Comics Cartoons Cowboys, Gary Panter (Édition Sigaretten / Galerie Martel)
The catalogue of Panter's show last spring is an affordable version of his unequalled take on classic comic scenes and covers.

3. Balzac, Daumier et les parisiens, Honoré de Balzac & Honoré Daumier (Paris Musées) Another catalogue, from a brilliant show that runs until March 31, 2024, at the Maison de Balzac. Almost two centuries on, cartoonists still mine many of those Parisian quirks these two mocked.

4. La pérégrination vers l'Ouest ("Journey to the West"), Ōhara Tōya, Utagawa Toyohiro & Katsushika Taito II (Editions 2024)
A four-inch tall brick of a book reproducing the 1806-1837 Japanese version of a 16th century Chinese classic. Aimed at the Edo period's taste for ghouls, monsters and creature-characters, this became (and remained) a bestseller. One of its main players is a wily monkey whose name means "Awake to the World's Emptiness." It's an eye-popping production, with erudite essays.

5. Brancusi contre États-Unis ("Brancusi vs. the United States"), Arnaud Nebbache (Dargaud)
Graphically bold and dynamic, this follows a 1927 court case brought against American customs for refusing to acknowledge sculptor Constantin Brâncuși's "Bird in Space" as art. (They classified it with "utilitarian objects, kitchen utensils and hospital goods," imposing a significant tariff.) The proceedings turned into a 'What is Art?' debate with some star witnesses.

6. Confinement, Lewis Trondheim (L'Association)
A small one-off COVID gem with Trondheim's character Lapinot. Given out free by L'Asso to subscribers, it's about the character's life in quarantine. Unassuming and hilarious.

7. Nos mondes perdus ("Our Lost Worlds"), Marion Montaigne (Dargaud) A lot of people try to popularize science, but Marion Montaigne's explanatory cartoons are special. This time, she includes autobiography (at age 13, Jurassic Park terrorised her), to demonstrate how palaeontology evolved – i.e. how humans learned what dinosaurs were.

8. Les Illuminés ("The Illuminated" but, equally, "The Fanatics"), Laurent-Frédéric Bollée & Jean Dytar (Delcourt)
Thanks in part to Patti Smith, who doesn't read French, the Rimbaud legend has gotten pretty tired. But this tale concerns how he and Verlaine intersected with the now-forgotten poet Germain Nouveau. Even if you know the story (much of it, like the book, conjecture), Jean Dytar's visuals are extraordinary. Each man's story occupies a horizontal strip with its own palette, so many pages are bisected or trisected in bands. But these are punctuated with Nouveau's own story, including exquisite, double-page portraits of him begging outside a Provençal cathedral.

9. True Love, Posy Simmonds (Denoël Graphic) This is the catalogue of the show I covered here. In addition to the expo's best material, it contains a whole 1981 work.

10. David Prudhomme: Le dessin mène la danse ("Drawing Calls the Shots"), David Prudhomme (Editions Barbier)
A fantastic tribute to a thirty-year career, celebrated with this year's Festival BD Boum's Grand Boum for lifetime achievement.

* * *

Michael Mouse by Mitch Lohmeier. Self-published/rereleased by Floating World.

Bootlegged edgelord takes on Mickey Mouse and the gang are as much a part of comics' historical backbone as the characters themselves at this point, and at first glance this looks like just another entry in the canon. Donald loves coke, Goofy shoots heroin, Pluto is starving in the yard awaiting his upcoming dogfight... ho hum. But with all the shock tactics out on the table by page 10 or so, Lohmeier drills down into his setup deeper and deeper, hanging some truly impressive noir writing on the warhorse skeleton of a robbery-gone-sideways yarn. The characters themselves aren't "on model" so much as "to type"; there's Mickey the plucky planner who won't take no for an answer, Donald the family man completely in thrall to his demons, and Goofy the pea-brained fuckup, a power trio Lohmeier colors in with as much Scorsese as Disney. The giggly kick of reading bootleg comics wears off long before this book's downbeat ending, leaving you to contemplate the best crime comic since 100 Bullets wrapped as you close the covers.

Fielder #2 by Kevin Huizenga. Self-published.

Perhaps the most cerebral cartoonist working today shifts his aim to big emotions and absolutely triumphs. Huizenga catches us up with his Everycouple, Glenn and Wendy Ganges, on the other side of the pandemic, perfectly capturing the placid despair of living in a society that pulled itself back together after a massive ruction to recreate the exact shitty ways things have always been. No lessons learned, just spectres haunting. There's an elegiac feeling of unreality so imperceptible that it's difficult to even talk about, let alone portray in art - but it's the true topic of Huizenga's comic, and he pins it down like a butterfly under glass. This book really catches fire when it pivots to a career retrospective of one of Wendy's fellow indie cartoonists, in what might just be the best ever comic about making comics (and certainly has the meanest joke about the stuff the Kids These Days are making as a rimshot at the end). This is the best, darkest comic one of the great contemporary cartoonists has ever made.

Milky Way by Miguel Vila, translated by Jamie Richards. Fantagraphics.

Just talking about what this book does better than all the other comics that came out this year—or what it does that other comics didn't even attempt—makes for a good summing-up of its value. An erotic drama that doesn't stint on the plotting or the sex, Milky Way obsessively develops a visual language around one's character's lactation fetish - an inherently funny, brazenly visual paraphilia that hasn't seen much airplay in comics and still carries a sense of real transgression. It's incredibly refreshing to read a sex comic by a cartoonist as clearly fascinated by bodies as Vila is - and one who so clearly loves them rather than being disgusted with them. Young characters dress and act like college kids do in real life - Vila's eye for fashion and color is backed up by a story whose characters shape the plot largely with their phones. The gorgeous drawing, which plays all up and down the scale with shifting levels of detail to suit each scene, is matched by the way Vila the writer unspools his tale, spacing bigger and bigger impacts closer and closer as the ending nears, and climaxing with a final bitter thrust of the knife. There's nothing this comic is attempting that it doesn't absolutely nail. Fantagraphics tosses a lot of translated European books onto the market to sink or swim these days - this is the one you can't miss. As good as it gets.

Black Phoenix Magazine Vol. 2, No. 2 by Rich Tommaso. Floating World.

The structure of Tommaso's one-man anthology, elliptic shorts grouped together by genre, made the fine work in the noir-themed issue 1 feel a little less-than; jumping around rather than locking in made for an awkward fit with the idiom. The romance comics theme of issue 2, however, is a fizzy, sugary match made in heaven. Tommaso adds a meta conceit to his format, presenting snippets purportedly culled from the much larger archive of a bygone romance publisher whose line included an alternate version of Atlas Comics' Venus, a Lana Turner comic(!), and a crowd of lovelorn teenage monsters straight out of Gilbert Hernandez. Stories pick up midway through, cut off unexpectedly, cross over with each other, are hinted at by their covers alone - it's a dizzying display that shows off both how much its artist understands about the history and form of comics, and how much he loves them. There's more pure energy in this thing than any other comic brought this year. Appropriately enough, every panel is dressed-for-senior-prom gorgeous. I could have read a thousand pages of this.

Dwellings #1-2 and #5 by Jay Stephens. #5 published by Black Eye Books, #1-2 re-released by Oni Press.

The weird match of style and substance is this series' selling point, with Stephens' Harvey Comics kawaii cartooning and brightly Ben-Day dotted colors propelling downbeat, gory pre-code-esque horror comics. Dwellings looks terrific and reads seamlessly, but what's easy to lose in the momentum Stephens generates is how well these drawings drive these stories, how perfect a blend of two different classic comics idioms this production is. Dwellings' anthology format, loose cast of characters, and shared setting make for a world unique and compelling in equal measure, one that sticks around in your mind after the last panel. A healthier medium would have 50 series with this entertainment value and understanding of how to do what they're doing on the racks each week.

What We Mean By Yesterday by Benjamin Marra. Instagram.

Ben Marra's always been a formalist; he's just made stories about topics so outrageous that you can miss the steak for the sizzle. But from Night Business' painstakingly retro-engineered gene splicing of Miami Vice and giallo movies to the way Terror Assaulter's declarative dialogue blocks the reader from accessing any deeper meaning, a close reading of Marra shows a cartoonist as canny about what he's doing as anyone out there. His Instagram daily strip, now deep into its third year of serialization, is all formalism, completely discarding the niceties of pretty drawing to focus on rhythm, pacing, structure, composition, the periodic table of the medium itself. It's thrilling to watch a modern master dig into the core of his art with such purpose - but to see him do it in a story with this much tension and randomness, this many plot twists you have to give up and let happen to you day by agonizing day, this many laughs - and not the rasped-out Instagram Chuckle but real-ass LOLs? Feels like I'm back in the golden days reading The Bungle Family in the paper at the family table with my 12th cigarette of the morning. Glorious.

The Ribbon Queen, by Jacen Burrows & Garth Ennis, with Guillermo Ortego, Dan Brown & Rob Steen. AWA.

Though serialization, as ever, shows Ennis in a questionably flattering light, what else were you gonna get at the comic store every month this year? As summer ripened and rotted into winter, this cop drama warily circled the trappings of Wokeness before pivoting into an urbanized folk horror plot pretty clearly left over from Ennis' days on Hellblazer - and reheated though it might feel occasionally, if Ennis' Hellblazer was coming out right now, with Jacen Burrows, the best artist drawing monthly mainstream comics, that'd be up there with the best shit out in years. Like Ribbon Queen is.

Batman: Gargoyle of Gotham by Rafael Grampá, with Matheus Lopes & John Workman. DC.

Dear DC Comics, it's pretty simple! Hire the best genre cartoonists working and let them do whatever they want with Batman. Back in the '80s and '90s this publishing strategy alone brought your line its greatest success in half a century, and resulted in a backlist that still outsells your frontlist. On the rare occasion that you do it now, it produces the only good comics you publish (see also Cliff Chiang's Catwoman: Lonely City). This ain't rocket science! P.S., Rafael Grampá can draw like the proverbial motherfucker, and this is so similar yet superior to the Robert Pattinson The Batman movie that you really should have waited to just make that a straight adaptation of this.

Murky World and Den Vol. 1: Neverwhere by Richard Corben & various. Dark Horse.

A dedicated reprint program for one of the greatest American cartoonists of the past century was a long time coming, but worth the wait. Neverwhere shows a young Corben climbing, then summiting the peak of his own talent, excelling himself page by page to produce his masterwork - comics that the intervening 50 years have done nothing to dim the power and immediacy of. Murky World, one of the maestro's less-seen late works, shows how far into unexplored and wild territory Corben made it from Den's mountaintop: this is the comic whose drawing shares the most DNA with Picasso, but in its commitment to telling a cool action story for the Wednesday masses, it also feels humble, even intimate. There's a straight line that runs between these two books' concerns, but it's more fun to note the differences between them, the ground their artist covered. Most fun of all, of course, is to not worry about any of this and just turn the pages to enjoy how cool Richard Corben comics still are, and always will be.

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What kind of year was it? Terrible! Not for comics, but in general. Comics… actually pretty decent. Granted, my long slump towards a reprints-only library continues unabated, but there’s still enough new funny pictures out there for you to have hope for the future (of comics, if not anything else). So, without further ado, or any numbered rating system, some stuff that was good:

The Great Beyond by Léa Murawiec (translated by Aleshia Jensen; Drawn & Quarterly): This is a book whose ending left me entirely unsatisfied, but everything that led up to it was more than worth it; the journey is so strong that I ended up not caring so much about the destination.

Eden II by K. Wroten (Fantagraphics): Falls in the same category. A really good work from a creator of grand ability and even greater ambition that doesn’t quite stick to the landing. But it's better to reach for the stars.

Cindy and Biscuit Vol. 1: We Love Trouble by Dan White, with Jim Campbell (Oni Press): A comic that is a joy to hold, a joy to leaf through, a joy to read; a work of distilled childhood experience, with all the unbridled exuberance and horror of living in a world that you can’t quite understand (and that won’t understand you back).

Melvin Monster: Omnibus Paperback Edition by John Stanley (Drawn & Quarterly): I’ll try not to dwell too much on archival material, especially stuff that’s already well appreciated, but I couldn’t pass on this new, complete collection of John Stanley’s comedy. It’s dumb, it’s repetitive, it’s one-note. It is also extremely funny.

Den Vol. 1: Neverwhere by Richard Corben (Dark Horse): Another old work reprinted, though this one is to be kept far from the grabby hands of children (though maybe somewhere a swollen teen can nick it without anyone noticing). Powered by Corben’s sheer energy and visual wizardry (kudos to José Villarrubia on the color restoration), this also pretty dumb, which doesn’t stop it from being great.

“Body. Double.” by Chloe, from Viscere #1: Body Horror (Strega Sporca): A short story from the Viscere anthology. Crepax is an obvious influence here, which is by itself a high bar to clear, but there are several panels that are almost Toth-like in nature, and even in quality. Beyond everything else in this dense story about identity and fame, there is the simple fact that Chloe is one of the best of her generation: a line so delicate and a sense of design so pure they transcended their influences. Surely one word is enough to name certain artists.

Disorder 3/3 by Erika Price (self-published): I am something of a broken record on this subject, but every year Erika Price keeps publishing work it would have to be somewhere near the top. The third and final volume of Disorder is worth it for the final chapter alone, in which her pencil seems to carve figures out from the sheer blackness of the page, and as they pile higher and higher you get lost in this world she has wrought. A work of the self that is also a vision as grand as anything in Revelation. Someone please print this in giant size for all the masses to see.

H.P. Lovecraft's The Shadow Over Innsmouth by Gou Tanabe, translated by Zack Davisson (Dark Horse): The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to collate potential reasons for the delays between translations of Tanabe’s note-perfect Lovecraft adaptations. (I know the line I’m paraphrasing is from a different story, please relax).

Fielder #2 by Kevin Huizenga (self-published): Very good indeed. Granted, with Huizenga, one thinks of the long game, the eventual collected edition. Still, even as a series of vignettes, snippets and playful recollections, this is an issue to treasure. Maybe the comics-about-comics stuff is a bit too inside baseball (though mercifully absent the petty score-settling one might associate with such efforts), but the moments of simply observing the life of Glenn Ganges as he talks to his wife or goes to the library or walks the dog are worth it by themselves.

* * *

1. Blood of the Virgin - Sammy Harkham (Pantheon)
2. River’s Edge - Kyoko Okazaki, translated by Alexa Frank (Kodansha)
3. Social Fiction - Chantal Montellier, translated by Geoffrey Brock (New York Review Comics)
4. Proof That the Devil Loves You - Gilbert Hernandez (Fantagraphics)
5. You’re the Center of Attention - Gina Wynbrandt (kuš!)

* * *

2023 was a bumper crop of good-to-great comics for all ages and audiences. From established favorites continuing to amaze, to old legends coming back to impress, to brand new takes on established characters and new concepts alike, comics has never been more exciting.

Even the most change-resistant icons, the superheroes, entered or continued exciting new directions. The Amazing Spider-Man—perhaps the prime example of a superhero book cycling through its greatest hits, in this case since "Brand New Day" at the end of the '00s—broke with the myopia and convolution of the Nick Spencer era in 2021 with the compelling "Beyond" storyline which let Zeb Wells (one of the Brand New Day era writers, as it happens) and a returning John Romita Jr. (with other artists like Ed McGuinness pinch-hitting as may be) make a sudden, shocking status quo shift: MJ has kids and is raising them with some guy named Paul, Norman Osborn is trying to be a good guy, and everyone hates Peter Parker for... something. The ultimate reveal of that latter situation was quite compelling, even if it was overshadowed by the ham-fisted editorial decision to have Kamala Khan die so she could be reborn as a mutant to tie in to what the MCU did with her. That aside, for the first time in ages, it feels like The Amazing Spider-Man is actually trying something new and going somewhere different. Who knows if it’ll last, but for now I’m enjoying the ride.

Same goes for Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Written and drawn by a rotating crew mainly led by writer CRC Payne and artist StarBite, this webtoon—part of DC’s and LINE Webtoon’s initiative to make continuity-free superhero comics—concluded its 2nd “season” this past October having managed to tip the scales from the Tumblr-bait slice-of-life webcomic it started out as to something like a more light-hearted superhero comic. Its occasional missteps—repetitive story structure, somewhat static characterization—are outweighed by its strengths: namely, its pure sense of fun, an affection for its cast, and Payne’s knack for character interaction. Also not for nothing, but this is the rare piece of Bat-media that remembers what Damian is supposed to actually look like.

The House of Ideas, of course, has its own webcomics in the Marvel Infinity Comics line exclusively for Marvel Unlimited subscribers, and while they’re all novel and exciting in their own way, the clear standout of the line is It’s Jeff! A virtually wordless comedy (two types of storytelling that’ve all but vanished in the superhero realm) following the hijinks of writer Kelly Thompson’s co-creation Jeff the Land Shark, the series is now three “seasons” deep and—even if it wasn’t funny, charming and endlessly sweet—it would be worth the subscription alone just for the gorgeous art by Gurihiru and, for the third season, Nao Fuji. In an ideal world, Jeff would be everywhere. But this is his ideal form.

Lest you think I’m all about the capes, two iconic non-superhero serials also had stellar years. First, there’s a footprint that only got bigger thanks to anime: Tatsuki Fujimoto’s Chainsaw Man (translated by Amanda Haley and lettered by Sabrina Heep). A little over a year into both its second arc and its move in Japan from Weekly Shōnen Jump to the online Shōnen Jump+ (in English, the series is still serialized on both VIZ’s Shonen Jump app and Shueisha’s own Manga Plus), the series enjoys a biweekly schedule which allows it more editorial freedom and affords Fujimoto and his assistants time to depict the slow unravelling of the wider world, War Devil-possessed protagonist Asa Mitaka, and the peace that lovable dirtbag teen Denji had finally claimed for himself, in intense and apocalyptic detail. Had Fujimoto simply ended Chainsaw Man after Part 1’s conclusion in 2020 to make book-length one-shots like the soulful Goodbye, Eri and the gorgeously heartbreaking Look Back, that would’ve been enough and no one would’ve felt cheated. But by switching his focus in character while doubling down on the combo of goofy gross-out humor and shocking bloodshed that’s always made this series stand out, Fujimoto continues to innovate; I genuinely don’t know what each new chapter will contain.

Secondly, Usagi Yojimbo made a comeback and showed us all just how poor our weekly pull lists are without Stan Sakai in the mix. Picking up where the IDW era of the title left off—with Sakai bringing the series back to its longtime home of Dark Horse via his new imprint, Dogū Publishing, and Usagi still alongside his newfound cousin Yukichi—the Ice and Snow miniseries (three of five issues out as of this writing) has been a spooky delight, with the machinations of Jei taking over a gang of mountain bandits meshing well against Usagi and Yukichi nearly falling victim to Yuki-Onna, a yōkai known as “The Lady of the Snow.” The colorist changeup from the now-retired Tom Luth to the imitable Hi-Fi has been seamless. A series my old coworker Chris Sims used to describe as impossible to write about due to its quality, Usagi hasn’t lost a step. I can’t wait for whatever this new era brings.

Same goes for the new era of Transformers, with writer/artist Daniel Warren Johnson, already a star due to his stellar work on titles like Do a Powerbomb!, The Jurassic League (with artist Juan Gedeon) and Wonder Woman: Dead Earth, proving all that hype is real. Not only has Johnson brought his trademark style of energetic cartooning (derived from, among other influences, ‘90s Image) and professional wrestling action to the nearly 40-year old story of Autobots vs. Decepticons, but he's combined it with a radical status quo shift for both the bots—Megatron is still MIA as of this writing, and Optimus is deeply unsure of himself—and their human allies, with a drastically improved revamp of Spike Witwicky and his love interest Carly, recasting Spike’s dad Sparkplug as a paranoid survivalist veteran. Mix that character depth and empathetic writing with scenes of spectacular action like Optimus Prime ripping his damaged arm off and beating Decepticon Skywarp senseless with it, and brother, you’ve got a stew going. Will this be the equal of the vaunted IDW era? We can only hope.

In terms of debuts, the standout for me was another Shonen Jump title (Stateside, anyway; in Japan, it’s published in the monthly Jump Square): Gokurakugai by Yuto Sano (translated by David Evelyn and lettered by Kyla Aiko). While, like many shōnen titles, the influences on Sano’s urban fantasy story of gun-toting monster killers is obvious—the setting and scope is a lot like early Bleach, and protagonists Alma and Ms. Tao have more than a bit of Asta from Black Clover and Revy from Black Lagoon in them—the series is greater than the sum of its parts and is well served by its monthly pacing, allowing it to have longer chapters and feeling more fleshed out. While the inevitable anime adaptation will no doubt rule in its own way, if you’re looking for a highlight of where mainstream manga is at, this is it.

And then there’s webcomics. While the field has no doubt been gentrified from the wild, experimental 2000s to a slicker, more streamlined field dominated by the likes of Tapas and the aforementioned LINE Webtoon, there’s still room for the field’s old warhorses to roam. To me, the standout example is Jeph Jacques’ Questionable Content. Having long ago successfully shifted from its initial niche of “snarky hipsters snarking about indie music in between romantic drama” to “sweet romantic dramedy about Millennial adulthood in a post-Singularity world where robots are real and most of them want to date us,” QC proved its resilience and adaptability by taking a move meant to sunset its long-ago-surpassed-but-still-technically-the-protagonist Marten Reed (moving him and his partner Claire to Canada in a sci-fi echo of Jacques’ own personal life as an expat) and instead pushing the strip to the farthest limits of its soft sci-fi premise. The new setting—a floating island/research facility staffed by genius AIs and humans called Cubetown, to which Claire moves to work as essentially the personnel manager—is as much of a delight as the strip’s new character, asshole gifted kid burnout Liz Applebaum, proving that QC is still the one to beat when it comes to “webcomics influenced by anime and manga.”

The most surprising webcomic came from, of all people, the virtual great-granddaddy of all U.S. comics, King Features. Building off of their 2022 decision to have the retired Hy Eisman replaced on the Popeye Sunday newspaper strip by Something Positive creator Randy Milholland (a longtime Popeye fan who’s imbued the strip with a family-friendly version of his wit, and even reprised a few older storylines), King Features/Comics Kingdom EiC Tea Fougner invited Milholland and cartoonists Shadia Amin and Emi Burdge (who replaced Amin this past October) to launch the 2x a week adventure strip Olive & Popeye, with Milholland drawing on Popeye’s long, long history of adventures to make something new and exciting (spoiler: Professor O.G. Wotasnozzle is involved), putting Olive Oyl in her own adventures with her own supporting cast in genuinely uncharted territory for a 100+ year old character. It’s a true highlight of the daily Comics Kingdom newsletter that pops up into my email every morning, and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

One more King Features title I would be remiss not to mention is the new Flash Gordon. After Jim Keefe stepped down in 2003, the strip was in rerun purgatory until October of this year, when King announced that Dan Schkade (late of the now-concluded pulp hero webcomic Lavender Jack and the in-progress Dark Horse miniseries Saint John with Brennan Wagner) would take over. Schkade turns out to have been an excellent fit. Besides bringing his trademark unique pops of color to the strip, Schkade dropped readers into a new status quo that sees Ming the Merciless seemingly dead and Flash, Dale Arden, Zarkov and co. having to navigate the brave new world they fought for and now have to build. It’s been a genuinely exciting thing so far and wherever Schkade takes it, this is clearly the proper way to revive something and make it matter to modern readers.

Comics have always been great, but they’ve rarely been better than this. It’s an exciting time, and I can’t wait to see what 2024 brings!

* * *

To begin with, I need to apologize (to myself) for forgetting some titles. I'm sure I'm going to miss something, and I'm afraid tomorrow I will see a book on my shelves or on those big piles on my desk that deserved to be mentioned. I’m also sure I had a list that I started at the beginning of the year, but I can’t find the file. So here's some random, really good titles I’ve read this year.

If I had to pick only one book from this year, it would be Il Saraceno (“The Saracen”) by Vincenzo Filosa - published in Italy by Rizzoli Lizard, and unfortunately not in English yet (some of the author's other books, published by Canicola Edizioni, have an English translation running at the bottom of each page). This is the second tome in a trilogy of crude and honest autofiction, where Vincenzo’s alter ego, Italo Filone, deals with family issues, fatherhood, and drug addiction. I love Vincenzo and his work. His is a unique blend of raw comics drawn both from the gekiga of Tadao Tsuge and the Italian underground comics of Andrea Pazienza. He was also the translator of another great book from this year: I fanatici del gekiga ("Gekiga Fanatics") by Masahiko Matsumoto (Coconino Press), the true—and also funny—story of how gekiga was born in postwar Japan, and the story of the artists who started the movement.

Months ago, I started collecting older editions of Guido Buzzelli's comics, and by coincidence, only days ago, the first book of Buzzelli Collected Works was published by Floating World in the U.S., which includes two amazing and mesmerizing stories from one of the greatest Italian comic artists: "The Labyrinth" and "Zil Zelub."

The best manga I’ve read recently is Hirayasumi by Keigo Shinzō (whom I also had the pleasure to meet and interview this year during Lucca Comics), published in Italy by J-Pop/Edizioni BD (and coming soon in English from VIZ). Shinzō is a delicate storyteller whose comics depict the lives of young men and women in contemporary Japan. This series is him at his best.

Skill and Goals is a self-published little collection of short stories by the young Italian cartoonist Emanuele Cantoro. I love the free spirit of these stories and their spontaneous and loose art. Emanuele is a promising artist and a sweet friend, and I’m looking forward to seeing more of him.

Let me include a title I’ve worked on as an editor: Hai rubato anche tu questo disegno? (“Have You Stolen This Drawing Too?”) by Alessandro Ripane, published by Edizioni BD. It's the story of how an author deals with the “trauma” of stolen art that has gone viral on the internet, on posters, on people's skin, etc. Alessandro is the craziest and most spontaneous and honest comic artist we have in Italy these days, and I am so grateful to be working with him.

I'd also like to mention a bunch of books that are on my desk waiting to be read, or that I've read only partially. I’m sure it's all good stuff: I misteri dell'Oceano Intergalattico (“The Mysteries of the Intergalactic Ocean”) by Francesca Ghermandi (Eris Edizioni); Nato in Iran (“Born in Iran”) by Majid Bita (Canicola Edizioni); Les Pizzlys by Jérémie Moreau (Editions Delcourt); Ducks by Kate Beaton (in Italian this year from Bao Publishing).

And, last but not least, my 18-month old daughter's favorite book (which I've read countless times): Elsa, Morandi e l'Uovoverde (“Elsa, Morandi and the Greenegg”) by my friend Sarah Mazzetti (Canicola Edizioni). Ha, this is probably the only list without Monica (published in Italian by Coconino Press) - I'll just mention it here so the post will not have a gap because of me. I love Clowes, but I need to take the time to properly enjoy the book.

1. The Buildings are Barking by Bill Griffith (Fantagraphics)
2. Stories from Zoo by Anand (Bubbles Zine)
3. Monica by Daniel Clowes (Fantagraphics)
4. Hunter x Hunter by Yoshihiro Togashi (translated by Lillian Olsen; VIZ)
5. W.W.R.E.C. by Angela Fanche & Max Burlingame (self-published)
6. Babsy and Maude by Molly Dwyer (self-published)
7. Flippy by Nate Garcia (Domino Books)
8. Blah Blah Blah #4 by Juliette Collet (self-published)
9. Cawmet by OWWI Lee (self-published)
10. Hot Cake by James Tonra & Mikael Choukroun (Desert Island)

Honorable Mentions: The Necrophilic Landscape by Morgan Vogel (2dcloud reissue); Unended by Josh Bayer (Uncivilized, haven’t finished it yet but definitely would be on here if I finished it); Crux #2 by Virgil Warren (published by my crew, deadcrow, so maybe doesn’t count); and 4 paintings that double as a comic by Deji Lasi (published in an edition of 5, way too small for anyone to see).

Footnote: Joe Sacco's Footnotes in Gaza (Metropolitan Books, published in 2009) was by far the best book I read this year - absolute must reading for anyone interested in reality or humanity.

* * *

It’s always fun to write these lists and I also get a kick out of introducing readers to a few artists from Europe and Quebec that might be under the radar. So here we go in no particular order.

1. Vasilios Billy Mavreas, Inside My Face Is A Mask That Does Not Change and We Have Company (self-published).
Marveas was one of the many artists featured in Abstract Comics (Fantagraphics) in 2009. Billy is a national treasure. He has been doing zines and comics for almost 35 years! While his comics are often more narrative-based (Tibonom, Overlords of Glee)—with a line so graceful and inviting, often drawn with the assurance of a master of the pen—when he does abstract comics he constantly explores and pushes the boundaries, putting him way ahead of the curve but also, sadly, isolating him from the mainstream commercial market. Well, his two latest zines, We Have Company and Inside My Face are just amazing little jewels! The way he now tackles wordless stories - all his craft and mastery are at play! It’s like being in an artist’s dreams with no keys or clues! You have to let go and enjoy the ride! Inside My Face is an artist’s book comprised of different colored papers, letterpress motifs, texts, wordless comix narratives, etc…. It is a visual cocktail so intoxicating that it’s like drinking a Viking brew before going to Valhalla. Mavreas has created one of the most beautiful and intricate zines I have seen in a while, putting him in a class with Margaux Bigou and A.T. Pratt. Seek him out, you won’t regret it!

2. Noah Van Sciver, As a Cartoonist (Fantagraphics, published in 2022) and Blammo 10 1/2 (Envious Editions).
Noah and Pierre Maurel were both my «coup de coeur» this year! I sought out almost everything Noah wrote and read his stuff to the point of becoming addicted to his more personal narratives. I loved the latest Blammo and As a Cartoonist. I get much literary joy out of Noah’s work. There is something about his comic voice that makes me smile and puts me in a lovely mood! His comic book alter ego and the way he plays with the autobiography genre make me laugh. Beautiful writing that feels effortless, yet is so perfect in its imperfection. Reading a comic by Noah feels like him coming over my place to chat over a beer or coffee, and I just sit there enthralled listening to this amazing storyteller. I cannot get enough.

3. Pierre Maurel, L'Arme à gauche (Glénat), Michel et la bataille des Dombarelles (L'employé du moi) and Stand-Up #3 (self-published).
Over the years, Pierre Maurel has been translated a few times in English (by Conundrum Press among others), but none has been seen of his recent work, including the amazing Michel series, which chronicles the efforts of a radio reporter trying his best to do good. 2023 was a big year for him. He published a new Michel book and L'Arme à gauche, a book about a side character from the Michel series. He also published Bento, a fun collection of amazing comics artists, and a particularly fun minicomic about the future of self-publishing (it’s bleak!). What I like about Pierre’s style is the intersection of influences from American alternative artists and the French new wave from the '90s, turning him into a most formidable storyteller who, while working with respected publishers, maintains an independent spirit and still produces zines. It is also the work of a socialist cartoonist who somehow still fights for decency in a capitalist world.

4. Catherine Ocelot, Symptômes (Éditions Pow Pow, published in 2022).
Catherine’s previous book, Art Life, was translated and published by Conundrum Press. Symptômes is her most accomplished work so far. What I look for in a good graphic novel is a story that is well-written, that emotionally rings true, and that is designed by the artist in such a way that every aspect of the book supports and adds to the narrative, from the front cover to the back. With Symptômes, Catherine Ocelot expertly marries form and content, producing a visual synergy that turns this graphic novel into an artist’s book.

5. Christian Robert de Massy, Samedi (Moelle Graphik, published in 2022).
Although I have worked for this publisher, I did not get to properly read this book until it was published. This is Christian’s first graphic novel ever, yet it feels like he has drawn since he was a toddler. His art reminds me of the level of draftsmanship seen from Moebius! Yeah, that good! Beautiful, fragile, intricate art. Samedi is a wordless story amazingly well-told, original and different. Like a recounting of an apocalyptic dream. Because the French publisher was scared of putting out a wordless piece, they tacked on narration at the bottom of each page from another writer which, thankfully, can be ignored so you can concentrate on the intricacies of this perfect original wordless narrative!

6. Chris Oliveros, Are You Willing to Die for the Cause? (Drawn & Quarterly for the English version; Éditions Pow Pow for the French).
Chris’s second graphic novel hit the bullseye and shot through it. It’s a gem, and my favorite graphic novel from Quebec this year. It needs to be reminded that Quebec is an former colony that belonged first to France, and then to England. For the first half of the 20th century, the French-speaking majority was kept in poverty and allowed only menial jobs as all the economic power was held by an English minority. This situation persisted all the way to the 1960s, when a political and cultural revolution began that included acts of terrorism; this is where Chris’s narrative begins. Oliveros chronicles the beginning of the FLQ, a cell of «terrorists» acting to protest the power held by the English in Quebec. Even though I’m a French Canadian and I know my history pretty well, I still learned tons of facts about this radical revolutionary group whose different cells detonated bombs—some with less success than others—while others wound up kidnapping and killing a Quebec government minister. For years, France and Belgium have bombarded Quebec with books on their history. It’s about time we started to produce books detailing our own rich history. Chris does that with rigor, humor, empathy, and a depth of perspective. Highly recommended if you want to know about this little French province in North America, and why we still speak French!

7. Kate Beaton, Ducks (Drawn & Quarterly, published in 2022) and Emily Carrington (Our Little Secret, in English with D&Q, 2022, and in French from La Pastèque).
This is a two-punch straight to the heart! Kate Beaton’s Ducks hit me hard first. A multi-award winner about women forced to live in an isolated setting with a bunch of men and what ensues: rape and toxic masculinity. Emily Carrington’s book has male characters who are just as revolting! From the man who raped Emily when she was 15 to the lawyer who stole her money and the RCMP officer that discouraged her to pursue the matter…. You come away of these books disgusted with the feeling that there is something deeply wrong with the men in power right now. These two amazing graphic novels explore matters that have not been properly addressed in our society. It is also a testament to the power of the modern graphic novel to be able to explore such issues, stir our awareness, and lead us to a deeper understanding of all the damage that toxic masculinity has brought into the 21st century. I am still shaken by these two amazing books.

8. Jasper Jubenvill, Dynamite Diva (Strangers Publishing, published in 2022) & Milk Maid (self-published).
Jasper is a throwback to those fun transgressive underground comics of old, a mix between Spain, Shelton and Crumb. Sex, violence, gore, and lots of fun! Not everybody can pull this off without offending someone but Jasper does it sooooo well and his art is delectable! In these stories the sex and the violence are just an excuse to create something fun, even joyful. Like the new anthology Spread Love Comix, there seems to be a demand in these dangerously conservative times to balance things out with a kind of modern extreme underground aesthetic (see: Simon Hanselmann).

9. Max Baitinger, Sibylla (L'employé du moi).
L'employé du moi, based in Belgium, has been turning out some of the most interesting and beautiful graphic novels in Belgium and France over the last few years. For me, just for the art and design, Sibylla (about a woman who was a poet who died young in 1638) is one of the most beautifully designed books of 2023. Max Baitinger creates within the pages of this book a world so full of beauty and a line so perfect that I thank the gods for such a graphic novel to actually exist (it does take a courageous publisher to do this). I first met Max in Helsinki in 2012; I bought his first book, and ever since I have followed his output. Everything he has published has a distinct line that makes all his books stand apart because of the way he tackles the subject, the care he puts into the design, and how he thinks about telling stories. Sybilla is a high point, clouds rising over the mountains. A story built on the joy of beauty.

10. Nina Bunjevac, La Réparation (Les Éditions Martin de Halleux, published in 2022) & An Alchemical Journey Through the Major Arcana of the Tarot: A Spiritually Transformative Deck and Guidebook (Fantagraphics).
Nina Bunjevac - such beautiful, intricate art with a deepness that I do not often find in other works. Okay, a tarot deck is not a graphic novel. Still, I have used tarot decks in my university scriptwriting classes as an exercise in storytelling for comics. The Major Arcana is a fascinating evolving narrative that changes depending on what card you draw (see Alejandro Jodorowsky and The Incal). I've also included La Réparation, which I got in France last spring. I’m always stunned by her mastery of dots and lines and how she evokes the best of the Surrealists. I also got the chance to see some of the original art for her tarot deck in Paris at Galerie Martel. Nina is in a class by herself.

11. Alexios Tjoyas, TRT MCRHZ - Images du sort (Le dernier cri).
Continuing with the tarot, for the last few years Le dernier cri in Marseille have been creating a collection of decks of Major Arcana cards by various artists. The latest one is by Alexios Tjoyas, and it’s just gorgeous! He reinterprets the classic images with lines and colors creating forms and shapes that hover between abstraction and a synthesis of the symbolism that each card carries. It is the work of a master. Each set comes in a silkscreen package, and this one features an extra tarot card (number 22), a touching tribute to the late, great Henriette Valium.

12. Richard Suicide, Cahier Dollorama (self-published).
Hard to have only ten, especially this year! Let’s go for one per month, and Richard Suicide gets December! Richard has been drawing comics and making minis for over 30 years! He published a graphic novel, Chroniques du Centre-Sud ("South Central Chronicles"), in French from Éditions Pow Pow in 2014, which won him the highest honors in Quebec BD awards. Raunchy, funny, down to earth with a mouthful of everyday absurdism. Richard is an artist who has been a staple of the scene here in Quebec much like Valium or Julie Doucet, but is pretty much unknown outside of Quebec. Dollorama is an hilarious account of him trying to find inspiration in the seedier corners of Montreal.

Addendum
There are so many different and interesting voices right now in comics both in French and English that I included this list to help round out my favorites this year.
Erik Svetoft, SPA (Fantagraphics in English and L'employé du moi in French); Daria Tessler, Cult of the Ibis (Fantagraphics, published in 2019); Spread Love Comix (Uncle Gil); Blutch, La Mer à boire (Éditions 2024, published in 2022); Julie Doucet, Suicide total (L'Association in French and Drawn & Quarterly in English as "Time Zone J," 2022); Arizona O’Neill, Est-ce qu'un artiste peut être heureux? (Revue Zinc, published in 2022); Sammy Harkham, Blood of the Virgin (Cornelius in French and Pantheon in English); Jesse Jacobs, New Pets (Hollow Press); Werewolf Jones & Sons® Deluxe Summer Fun Annual!, Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger (Fantagraphics); Jimmy Beaulieu, Rivière du lit (self-published); Samuel Cantin, Shérif Junior T.01 (Éditions Pow Pow); Fabrizio Dori, Le fils de Pan (Sarbacane). Special mention: the "Conundrum 25" series from Conundrum Press, featuring Rupert Bottenberg, Between Gentlemen; Colin Upton, Post-Modern Mini-Comics; and Blaise Moritz, Bar Delicious. And, finally, François Donatien, Les inconvénients de la félicité (Nouvelle Adresse).