Once upon a time I interviewed the Freak Comics Collective. We conducted the conversation over Zoom and I recall all three cartoonists being extremely affable and game for whatever I could throw at them. While all being busy artists themselves, they were also editing their flagship anthology and had just dipped their toes into publishing work by another similarly minded artist. This was way, way back in 2022 — things have changed. Now they’re the artists formerly known as Freak and they all, individually, had brand-new books come out recently. Let’s take a look.
Flea by Mara Ramirez
Shake out your antennae and slap on your ballet slippers because we got ourselves 132 pages, 0 panels, and one character study that makes for the most captivating book of the year. Ramirez, who I’ve known to create hypnotic comics about the natural world, focuses entirely on the eponymous Flea, chronicling a life from age 5 to young adulthood in short, lingering memories and brilliantly executed scribbles. We meet Flea’s co-dependent family early on. Aunt #1 is cat-like and bat-like, foreboding one second and cackling the other. Aunt #2’s face is distended and flowing, with large vertical eyes, nose and streaming hair. It’s by far my favorite character design in the book and resembles a Shel Silverstein drawing, whose influence art comics could always use more of. Grandma looks exactly like Flea, however sullen from simultaneous ringleading and being the only one who listens. Flea’s mom is spideresque, with multiple eyes and arms. She spins a web that protects and ensnares Flea, each silky strand made strong from decades of familial trauma, addiction, and tangled cords that make for bumps of dopamine and love.
I can’t remember reading a single book more times consecutively in a short amount of time and the scene I keep waiting for — that continues to hit — is when Flea’s mother, wine glass in hand (all the sisters carry them like security blankets), hoists her up to dance. She playfully dips her, catching the child’s hair on a lit candle. I immediately thought of the line, “The whiskey on your breath could make a small boy dizzy; but I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy,” and the rest of “My Papa’s Waltz” by Theodore Roethke. The climax of the book is sledgehammered home when Flea has to misgender herself on the phone only to learn of her grandma’s passing, then guilt-tripped and berated by her mother. Bawdy and compassionate, devastating and curious, Flea is about growing up and trying to get out, just being on the brink of total freedom. On the brink. On the brink. You sure do root for Flea, but we all know how these things go.
End of a Holiday by Cristian Castelo
Here we have another one about getting away, getting out, “you can never go home again” unless you never leave, Springsteen styley. You see, Dixie, she can throw that speedball by ya unless she starts to ruminate and self-sabotage. It’s great to see Castelo back in the fold — Holiday being his first I’ve read since 2022’s Wild collection (I skipped the Venom fan-fic because why?) — and seemingly in his early ’70s comfort zone. Hair is feathered, jackets are cool, there’s some silver stars hand-adhered to the cover. The comic itself chronicles Dixie going from child to teen playing high-level, high-stakes girls baseball. The future of the team depends on her except she also is living with the baggage of a broken home: Her dad serves as her push-it-to-the-limit coach, and her mom wants to live vicariously through her. She won’t let Dixie make the same mistakes she did, like having a child. Castelo draws everything so deliciously it all feels almost overindulgent.
Castelo is an oil slick cartoonist. His black-and-white inking is so chic and stylized that it nearly reaches an iridescence, but your eyes can also skid right off the page if you’re not careful. Early on in the book, Dixie’s dad gives her a pep talk on the mound. He pats her back twice, claps his hands twice, and points his thumb in a “get back out there” movement. This all takes place in a single panel. Just the same, this maximalism can also work beautifully. Later on, Dixie and her mother are at a fair. In the bottom left of this panel, Dixie is eating a fry, the middle of the panel is her mom’s hand fixing Dixie’s hair and pushing it behind her ear, and the right third is a tail of smoke coming from the cigarette in mom’s hand, leading our eyes right the entire time while also highlighting a tender moment between the two characters. She doesn’t get a lot of those moments because everyone is relying on Dixie. She has to constantly consider putting the wishes and responsibility of family and teammates above her own, resentfully burning the candles at both ends. One could easily tip the scales and go full Varsity Blues, nonetheless Castelo handles this theme adroitly, writing with nuance and an endearment for someone that would probably admit herself that she’s tough to love. Now we just need everyone — cartoonist and character alike — to take a breather, realize that they’re uniquely talented, and consider that, in some circumstances, less is more.
Key Change by Miles MacDiarmid
Miles MacDiarmid makes art that feels like you’re slipping on your favorite pair of jeans. You’re instantly made snug by his cartooning choices and dialog writing and this comic only ratchets up his repute. His recurring characters walk down stairs, lounge on beds, vomit in the street in such ways that feel so naturalistic it’s mind-blowing and it’s always a pleasant surprise when you encounter a cartoonist like MacDiarmind who genuinely understands comedy writing principles and pacing. He also dresses his cast in a wardrobe that not only makes them all look cool, but also in a way that silently, logically expounds on their personalities. There’s a scene here in a crowded club where, over six panels, two characters have to engage in an important transaction, but with the sound of the blaring music, can only do so with subtle body language and exact facial expressions. It’s impeccable. I’d love to know what kind of research and photo-referencing process go into all these pages, if any, because these feel like real people. Yet they’re not real people at all.
They’re creatures! Amy has rounded horns coming out her head. Jamie Lee has two heads, one wearing glasses, both sporting bobs. Pete, the party animal, has thick-stalked snail eyes that protrude off his face. All of these features are never once remarked upon. The story in Key Change itself is frivolous, like an episode of a sitcom, albeit a mighty good one. Amy’s purse is snatched so she has to hang at Jamie Lee’s place for a while. They’re creeped out by Jamie Lee’s roommate, who’s on a bizarre date/dog-sitting venture in their apartment. To get a spare key, Amy must meet up with her roommate at a crammed bar, where they run into Pete, who happens to be a plus-one at a private party in the basement. In terms of content alone, a comparison could easily be made to Hate with twentysomething friends making their way through minor mishaps, schemes, and precarious living situations. Except Miles MacDiarmind swings to his own beat. I don’t think he’s a cartoonist that swings for the fences and attempts to hit towering home runs, but he will easily round the bases like a gazelle for a stand-up triple and that’s saying something. Key Change is another worthy notch in MacDiarmind’s varied body of excellent creative works, all worth checking out, taking home, and bunking up with.
The moral of the story is, in whatever incarnation they take, Freak’s still got the juice. Ho ho ho and happy new year. See you in 2026, I hope.
Questions, love letters, and submissions to this column can be directed to @rjcaseywrites on Instagram.
The post Arrivals and Departures — December 2025 appeared first on The Comics Journal.
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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