Arrivals and Departures – February 2025

I just got back from Arizona. There I hiked a few hours and scrambled up some boulders to see ancient petroglyphs — pictures chipped into the desert environment of animals and people and spiral designs. With my wife next to me and surrounded by majesty, my first thought, unfortunately, was, “Best American Comics 300 A.D.” and then I quietly chuckled to myself. If you are reading this column, you too may have succumbed to this particular kind of self-imposed sequential-art-based mental illness. Let’s see if any of the comics I read this month can hold a candle to these deeply impressive rock carvings.

BTVS: Chapter 1 by Alec Valerius

Old Towne drama pops off when a Rasputin lookalike receives an envelope with a note that forces him to place his baby atop a derelict well as some sort of sacrifice. This is told in 8 wordless pages. Cut to a cute little bunny with bowling ball sized eyes adorned with cute little eyelashes traipsing along the woods wearing a cute little backpack over its cute little overalls. After encountering a fly ridden man lynched in a tree, the bunny finds a broken sign post that’s very conveniently the perfect size to hold and as sharp as a stake. This goes on for 6 pages as the bunny narrates (in its cute little way of speaking) their movements and ideas in English. When the bunny finds the village, it is gifted a large cross and speckled with holy water (Valerius doesn’t leave narrative breadcrumbs, but whole sourdough loaves) to take on the demonic forces plaguing the region. Here, the people only speak in Romanian. This left me, the reader, apprehensive and slightly confused, which could have been a cool technique to lean into by Valerius, but alas. A couple pages later, two mysterious men discuss the cute little intruder in English. There’s a note at the top of the page that reads, “Translated to English when Rabbit isn’t near.” There’s got to be a better way than creative inconsistency, a better tactic than “just kidding.” Commit to the bit, with “the bit” here being the only thing that makes this story stand out in the first place. The pacing, the decision making, the general conceit — I found almost everything about this comic irritating.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a little Sanrio-esque with my seriousness. I enjoy when funny animals are surrounded by earnestness. I once had every Bone collector card in a childhood binder of mylar sleeves, for crying out loud. What I don’t get is when cartoonists who are not beholden to any IP rules, haven’t signed any contracts, and have ostensibly no creative constraints at all wind up with something so trite. I mean, you can find dozens upon dozens of examples of this “killer rabbit” trope throughout nearly every form of media. The only part of this comic that I found interesting was a few pages near the end where a large man handles his business at his desk. It reminded me of the later work of Steve Dillon, where there’s a heavy focus on back fat and jowls.

I recently came across this news story where a couple, renovating their new home, finds hundreds of plush ducks, bears, and — you guessed it — bunnies in the walls, put there by a previous owner. These creatures, assuredly once loved, were now packed tight in plastic wrap to keep out the cold. It got me thinking about the usefulness and utility of funny animals when they’re no longer novel, no longer cute, no longer needed. It got me thinking that I’m much more likely to use this comic as home insulation than ever read it again.

Slick Susan and The Mysterious Soup by Rebecca Kirby

Against my better judgment, we’re staying in the realm of fantasy. This one’s by America’s favorite T-Shirt magnate Rebecca Kirby and completely exudes joy. A witch named Cowboy slowly searches the woods for weevils. Cowboy can collect their sleep bubbles to make a melatonin-like aid at her family owned artisanal magic milk shop she works at. She finds her frenemy, Susan, looking for a mysterious spinning soup bowl in the very same thick forest. As you can tell, there’s a fair amount of lore and background here, but Kirby makes you bob and weave with it instead of burdening you with a two-ton kettlebell like most other genre authors. And at least there’s no maps. I hate a book with a map.

Kirby has a thin, confident line that is just filthy. You could — and perhaps should — dissect this short comic into minuscule parts. Read it all by just looking at eyebrows, then go back and reread it hyperfocusing on tree bark, then do it again with cheeks. Each and every time these micro masterclasses will result in laughter and awe. There are pages like the one shown here where Susan’s perfectly round, sweaty head stares into the black eyes of the ghost-guardian owly with too many teeth and I think, “Rebecca Kirby one of the most talented drawers on the planet.” With the possible exceptions of HTML Flowers and Soph Franz, is there more of a big-time, top-tier cartoonist without a graphic novel or collection to their name yet? Maybe that will never materialize, but it won’t stop me from wanting one!

The spinning soup made Susan taste-blind and she can’t find the food stand or the brusk frog chef that made it. This eventually leads to a fight between Susan and Cowboy that only brings these two together. Susan has a newfound respect for Cowboy because she gave her a black eye and Cowboy no longer resents Susan for getting her grounded. And, like an orbiting bowl, the circle of life continues. This one’s pretty silly, impeccably drawn, and perfect for the wayward teen in your life.

Blazing Quantum #6 by William K. Ibanez

I was in the checkout line at the grocery store the other day and there next to the Tic Tacs and beef jerky was a slot full of the new issue of Archie comics digest. I can’t bring myself to care about what Dan Parent is up to, but the reprint strips are fun and I wanted to introduce my large son to Moose, the only student at Riverdale High with a clear conscience. But do you know how much a digest costs these days? $10! I went home without one.

I bring this up because:

1. I was shocked by that cover price.
2. It’s the same cover price of this issue of Blazing Quantum, a new series to me.
3. Quantum is not totally unlike Archie, if instead of soundtracked by malt shoppe doo-wop you have Tejano punk rock.

A lot of submissions cross my path every week for this column and I almost passed this one by because of the bad cover. Luckily I didn’t because Ibanez didn’t draw that cover and the interior comics are so compelling. Down in Laredo, Texas, Willy works at his parent’s pizza place that also serves as a venu for all-ages hardcore shows. There he slides freebies to cute girls and gets bullied into selling beer to mohawked minors. His older brother needs a ride home, along with all his friends, because he broke his glasses in the mosh pit and knows Willy is just enough of a pushover to do it. But will Willy make it time to see the new X-Men movie he’s read so much about in Wizard magazine?

Serving as an early 2000s semi-autobiographical teen sitcom on the US/Mexico border, Quantum sees Ibanez pack in so much exposition, family backstory, and tensions in such a relatively short amount of pages. There’s the metalheads vs. the hardcore kids, police vs. teens, post-Columbine satanic panic vs. rationality, personal ventures that are for pay vs. ones that are “for exposure.” There are so many moving parts and Ibanez lets them sizzle and boil over before weaving them all together. I was absolutely charmed by this comic.

My only concerns (other than the cover) are as salient as Ibanez wants to make them. When does an artist’s trademark or fallback technique cover for something they’re not able to draw that well? On every page, Ibanez draws noses as tight circles and a solid line under the lips for teeth. It’s something you get more used to as you continue to read and the large cast are mostly used as vessels to push plot and comedic circumstances, but that style vice does most definitely account for some stilted, awkward anatomies and panels. Anyone looking to chew on a tight, bouncing narrative would treasure this comic, but — and here’s my final thought — when your cartooning would fit right into an early-’90s Slave Labor Graphics lineup, how do you get it into the hands of 2025 comic readers with 2025 comic sensibilities? I guess that’s a problem for Ibanez to solve. But here’s one thing I do know: Blazing Quantum — it’s better than an Archie comics digest.

There you go. For the next installment, I’m going full tabula rasa and giving some artists a second look. Until then, here’s a discussion prompt to tide you over: What’s the best page one, panel one in a comic? Primordial chiseling doesn’t count! See you next month, I hope.

Questions, love letters, and submissions to this column can be directed to @rjcaseywrites on Instagram.

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