#Coronafirus #COVID19 #Pandemic: Love in the Time of Corona Virus is a new and hopefully short-run PopMatters series of art and life and the art of living in these times of global health crisis.
Moa Romanova's "semi-auto-bio" graphic fiction, Goblin Girl, explores the dating world with a mysterious mix of art and influences.
David Jesus Vignolli's graphic novel, New World, chronicles Indigenous resistance to European monsters in gorgeous art and mythic undertones.
The powerful graphic novel Grass documents the atrocities against WWII "comfort women" through the recollections of a survivor. This is an incredibly powerful and urgent work that, frankly, should be read by the governments of all nations that must face, admit to, and begin real reparations for their country's atrocities.
Tsuge's narrator's mustache is no more convincing a disguise than Superman's Clark Kent glasses—which is the paradoxical point in The Man Without Talent.
For all the Charlie Browns in the world, Library of America has published The Peanuts Papers: Writers and Cartoonists on Charlie Brown, Snoopy & the Gang, and the Meaning of Life.
The title of Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom's graphic memoir, Palimpsest, is an excellent metaphor for adoption generally and especially the literally erased and rewritten documents that define many Korean adoptions. But it is also a visual metaphor.
Horizontal Collaboration, the superb French comic by Navie and Carole Maurel, reassesses the sexist biases of history.
In The Man Without Talent, Tadao Tsuge captures the element of fantasy reflected in the childish utopianism of free market capitalism and the committed entrepreneurs who are its happy-go-lucky evangelists.
In a society of things, social responsibility requires a recognition of the influence of commodities upon our most foundational spiritual experiences. Nickelodeon's animated series, Rocko's Modern Life, puts it simply.
If you can't take a class with Lynda Barry, Making Comics is the next best thing. But what kind of class is it?
Jaime Hernandez conveys an exuberance and vitality in his characters that make them easy to relate to and sympathize with. This is no less so in his latest graphic novel, Tonta.
Award-winning graphic artist Eleanor Davis likes to accent key moments in Hard Tomorrow through panel size. Big moments are literally bigger. Layout is a way of making meaning.
Gina Siciliano's I Know What I Am is a formidable work of comics scholarship, including 50 pages devoted to detailed notes and bibliographic sources about the fearless artist, Artemisia Gentileschi.
The differences between Sylvia Nickerson's realistically-depicted homeless and the blob-like privileged establishes Creation's central dichotomy and critique.
De Jongh constructs a jigsaw puzzle of personalities, life experiences, and national identities, where even contrasts ultimately reveal connections in her graphic memoir, Taxi!
Not all entries in Best American Comics 2019 will go down easily. Some might be undercooked. Some left too long on the fire. But the strongest will satisfy for a long time.
Like the title letters, the physical format of Michael DeForge's Stunt creates a kind of cage holding the main character inside rigid panels.
There are strong emotional stakes and likeable characters in Peyton Reed's Ant-Man, but they are all rooted in a, well, less than epic scale. This makes Ant-Man refreshing, an MCU palate cleanser.
Picking up where Chlorine Gardens left off, Keiler Roberts' graphic memoir, Rat Time, wanders artfully and unannounced into memories.
The metaphor of imperfection and transition flows beneath every page of Frank Santoro's graphic memoir, Pittsburgh.
In Kate Lacour's graphic novel of imagined medical oddities, Vivisectionary, the viewer is the main character and the images the deranged antagonist.
In graphic memoir They Called Us Enemy, iconic Star Trek star George Takei draws from his family's experience of Japanese-American internment camps to warn of a potentially dark future.
While Keiji Nakazawa never hesitated to loose his wrath on fascist or right-leaning tendencies through the fury of his irrepressible cartoon hero in Barefoot Gen, Takeo Aoki's Hiroshima's Revival weaves a more cautious path through the political jungle of wartime memory.
In Pat Buchanan's 1992 presidential address he evoked fear of "crossdressers in our midst" as a metaphor for the infiltration of liberal political culture. Grant Morrison's The Invisibles comics proved he had reason to fear.
Travis Dandro's King of King Court is an excellent reminder of how evocatively effective comics are in the hands of a skilled memoirist.
Scholar Qiana Whitted's EC Comics: Race, Shock & Social Protest explores a different path in EC Comic's history: their work with social justice stories and the resulting censorship in 1950s America.
A Yoda-proportioned philosopher provides a humorous undercurrent in C. C. Tsai's adaptation of the Daoist text, The Way of Nature.
Is the ghost-child forming pixel-by-pixel in Ana Galvañ's Press Enter to Continue a repressed memory, a government-induced hallucination, or something weirder still?