Arrivals and Departues — June 2025

Hi. Hello. I’m going to be sincere with you: Comics criticism seems so meaningless and futile right now. Comics (reading them, making them, writing about them) can, in some rare instances, be life-affirming and perhaps life-saving. I’ll keep doing it. I know. But there are many other more serviceable ways to spend your time. Absolutely no one should rely on comics to save the world and no one should rely on comics criticism to do anything but make you, personally, feel bad. In my neck of the woods right now we’re in something called an “Air Quality Alert,” so … without … *hacking up toxic smog* ... further ado…

Broken Wires #1 by Cameron Arthur

I should’ve known. I should have known this comic wouldn’t float my boat when it broke one of my comics cardinal rules from the get-go. The story begins with five straight pages of a teacher sitting at a desk, doing absolutely nothing but reading emails and talking on the phone. Later on there’s an extended scene of Artie, the teacher’s son, sitting at a computer as well. There are several panels of his hands moving a mouse and others of his hands typing as he’s gaming and chatting online. I commend Cameron Arthur for making narrative comics that are focused on the lower middle-class and putting thought into story beats, but the plot is such a slow burn that the fire fizzles out. This is hyper-realism that I could do without. I don’t find it relatable or moving. I don’t find it anything.

When panels in Broken Wires #1 aren’t just heads talking at each other, there is some real beauty. Arthur draws great clouds, cows, and cars. Too bad 90% of the comic is pure chatting. The teacher, Marcy, does a favor for a friend by hosting Ben, a traveling choir student, for a night. Ben is depressed that he will be graduating out of the band and will have to move on with his life. Marcy’s husband, Ruben, is perturbed by the unexpected guest because he was “really looking forward to relaxing.” Marcy and Ruben’s kid, Artie, gives his mom’s credit card number to someone selling video game “skins” and probably gets scammed. If this all sounds dull, it’s because it is. In fact, this story seems to take pride in being boring. Maybe it just feels that way because of the way Arthur portrays the people inhabiting his comic. There’s not an eye roll, grin, or any single variation in facial acting other than indifferent coldness in 24 pages. Every character looks perpetually tired and reticent. It’s feasible that Arthur is gunning for a dead-behind-the-eyes effect, but I don’t want to read that. I see enough of those people when I take my kids to the playground. With all the despondency and listless bickering, I’m left with a question: Is there any obligation for a storyteller to provide an audience with at least a smidgen of entertainment? Probably not. But there’s also no obligation for a reader to continue on to issue #2. I’m hitting the bricks.

Bird of the Streets by Helen Criaco

On the other hand, comics can be delightful. Streets was my introduction to Criaco’s work and the first two things I noticed were her proclivity for drawing bricks and a strong, uniform, thick-tipped line. A new girl transfers into school and is immediately intriguing to Helen and threatening to Helen’s boyfriend. Claire is her name and she runs into the boyfriend at Helen’s art show. Then a bird collides with the gallery window and the comic becomes an exemplary tale of small-stakes absurdity. These 18 pages could have easily been slotted into an early 2000s anthology, butting up against someone like Andrice Arp and that’s not the sort of comic that gets made a lot these days, unintentionally or not. I more than welcome it.

There’s some good news and some bad news. The bad news is mostly relative, but there are some findings here that tell me this is coming very early in Criaco’s cartooning career. One is a pacing pet peeve of mine that has come up a lot lately. Helen says, “I met some girl in my physics class. Claire.” Two wordless panels follow and then Helen asks, “You know that girl I was telling you about? Claire?” Cartoonists, I assure you that your readers have object permanence. We also have to talk about word balloon placement. There is one panel in this story where the character’s word balloon is bordered by her hip haircut. The divisions of the hair itself make it look like the balloon has 3 separate tails. Several other times in Streets, Criaco covers characters and even other words with word balloons and thought bubbles. This might be a neat trick if intentional or was used as some sort of metaphor, but it’s not. The good news is that the unexpected turn at the end which involves giving CPR to a sparrow had me audibly laughing.

Because most comic writing is so dismal and hasty, there is a thing comic readers do where we overpraise things that are just “comic book funny” and not actually funny. For a cartoonist to actually be funny is rare, but it elicits laughter. What a concept! To be “comic book funny” results in faint smirks or the cultural harbinger of ruination, the cry laugh emoji. Fuck a footnote — this is going into the body! Actually funny versus “comic book funny” is the difference between Richard Thompson and Bill Watterson. Actually funny cartoonists include Will Elder, M.K. Brown, Gary Larson, and Edward Steed. E.C. Segar is actually funny. I would argue for the inclusion of Simon Hanselmann, Heather Loase, Josh Pettinger, and Max Huffman in the actually funny camp.

“Comic book funny”: Political cartoons, even the decent ones; Gilbert Shelton and the vast majority of the Undergrounds; Julia Wertz; Chip Zdarsky; every single webcomic ever; everything nominated in the humor categories at the Eisners; what Frog Farm publishes; 99% of contemporary New Yorker gags that aren’t by Steed or Zach Kanin; N

ancy (Bushmiller, Gilchrist, James — it’s all the same bullshit). There are dozens and dozens of more examples that far outnumber those in the actually funny category. Some cartoonists get lucky and can travel actually funny first-class just once, while others lose their touch and former greats now slum it in “comic book funny” purgatory. We all know who they are. (Roz Chast and Michael Kupperman are the only ones that split the difference, if you were interested.)

Oh yeah. This is a review of Bird of the Streets, which is actually funny. It’s engaging and weird and the conclusion had me forgetting all of its flaws. More please.

I’m going to get this back on track in July. 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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