Arrivals and Departures — January 2026

New year, new me, same ol’ column you know and love. Let’s all get on the same page. I appreciate each and every one of you who sends me comics for potential review (please continue to do so!). However, my pile of unreads has become altogether unruly. As a way to do a little housekeeping, this month I’m going to pick 10 from the to-read tower and jot down some micro-flash reviews. And a one, and a two …

Terra Mea #0 by Bryce Martin

Did you know that the nations of Berous and Kanis are warring? Martin makes sure you’re hip to all of this crucial information and more in the first two pages, sprinkled amongst world-building captions that include the words, “reality,” “revelry,” “eternity,” and “treachery.” In the free zone between those states is where we find Cass (who also goes by Morgan?), a thick-thighed wanderer who’s out to meet violence with violence. The whole thing had me choking on puffy exposition and digital zip-a-tone. 

The Loser Zeitgeist by Charlotte Pelissier

This cartoonist does one thing exceptionally well. She is positively locked in when telling stories about toxic party girls who probably have messy cars. Stippling and unabating patterns pervade each panel and frequently the panel borders as well. Each character — like Lucky Lottie and Sassy Sally — has big eyes, big hair, and even bigger feelings. Pelissier clearly places emotion over anatomy, which is an equation that always holds up. Unfortunately these short anecdotes often feel unresolved, but no one else’s making comics like this. All hail our new patron saint of animal prints and cigarette butts!

Mutt magazine #1 by Adam de Souza

As a Certified Comic Strip Respector, I have quite a bit of built-in admiration for de Souza due to his often fantastic Blind Alley. However, through 216 pages (!) of Mutt, he stretches himself and, I assume, all readers’ attention, too thin. “Start small” and “stay small” is advice he gives frequently at the end of this massive self-published magazine in the “Reader Mail” section and de Souza should have taken his own guidance. I can’t help but feel that everything in Mutt could have been scrapped for parts and the best ones folded into the something special he’s already established rather than attempting to reinvent his own narrative wheel. Dance with the one who brung ya.

Nosebleed #3 by Derick Jones

This comic is sure aptly named because eight separate characters spill blood out their nostrils. I counted! (Four characters puke blood, if you’re curious.) What I took away was that the plot was similar to the Dane DeHaan vehicle Chronicle, where everyday townie kids develop superpowers — through pill-like capsules in this case — and a tale of gory genre work follows. This issue ends with a subway car filled with intestines and kiddie-pool levels of bodily fluids, so I can confidently attest that Nosebleed is a series specifically “not for me.” There is a three-page sequence of dreamy gray pencils that happens in the mind of a character actively being defibrillated that was quite nice, nevertheless here’s one for the sickos.

Am I… in Love? by Ava Pom

 Am I… is very much a “I’ve been thinking about…” comic ripped from the headlines of Instagram, putting value in relationship influencing over storytelling. An artist-as-pundit comic where the narrator uses an outstretched flat ’splainin’ hand as the audience is addressed directly. Pom muses about how she’s heard about people becoming either an angel, devil, or cupid when faced with a romantic lead. She’s not any of those. Or, rather, she’s all three? At the end she gushes over a glance from a boy on a train and — smirk, smirk, wink, wink — forgets to even take her own pointers. This book stinks, but I’m sure the artist would make a very nice looking deck of tarot cards.

Titanic Comics #1 by Paul Nagel

The cover of a pink serpentine kraken taking down the titular ship may seem like some sort of Heavy Metal pastiche, but I can assure you that the interior pages make ideal reading for cynical, environmentally minded lefty assholes. And I say that as laudatory as possible. A one-pager called “My House” features a man going to any length to exterminate all the suburban flora and fauna that surrounds him. With thin scratchy lines and an uneasy overhead angle that immediately brought Joe Sacco to mind, the final silent panel pulls way back to show a patch of tiny, crowded homes and fenced patches of yards — suggesting how much of humanity is a fragile, minuscule capital-N Nothingness. If you’re looking for some bass drum kick with your comics, Paul Nagel’s the one to watch.

Carrying a Pearl: A Comics Collection by Rachel Avallone

We’ve got three nearly wordless stories ranging from two to six pages here. In Avallone’s first story, called “Skin,” a person bites into an apple, the juice is abundant and glistens like stars. A nipple-esque pearl is found protruding from the flesh so the person slowly pulls out a string of beads from the sopping crevice, eventually placing them around their neck, letting them drip onto their clavicle. The other short stories prominently feature suggestive piercing and slicing. Still, it’s this first one that won’t have me looking at a bowl of fruit the same way. A $15 price point for this comic is steep — in my estimation, that would be about 50 cents per second it takes to make your way through and it’s not very re-readable (unless you’re into edging). Page/price economy complaint aside though, Avallone seems adept at making ornamental comics for your longing loins.

 

 Rat by Sarah Kirby

At least that’s what I think it’s called. There’s no title on the cover or anywhere else. You can get away with skipping formalities when you’re as talented as Kirby. One of the best cartoonists in the Tinfoil/Dead Crow/Jaywalk crew already, these oversized fold-out pages do wonders in further establishing that fact. A story about a mattress store features a page with one panel entirely filled with a squished truck, another with three people lifting a box spring, and a third fixed and focused on an allen wrench. This artist can draw anything at all, no matter how quotidian, and make it feel impassioned. Each page also includes a few reviews from customers ranging from one to five stars. I will not lie, this made me feel self-conscious and silly for attempting criticism. (Is this column the Yelp of alt comix?) The second story is more or less about natural gas. Sarah Kirby — what an enigma, what a treasure.

Tranquil Bliss by Ellen Addison 

I once had an idea to compile an anthology solely of cartoonists detailing how they peel oranges. That’s when I wore a younger man’s clothes and made questionable choices. Now I’m wise, goddammit! I bring this up because the bottom third of each page in Bliss is taken up by skinned citrus. The rest of the pages have a nine-square-panel grid and minimal captions in a small computer font. The character comes home from work, makes some tea, stares out the window (or a mirror) at herself or someone just like her, goes to sleep, then does it all over again. I’m usually not a fan of this mundane black-and-white coldness (read: Cameron Arthur), yet Addison’s unblinking repetition and spare line makes everything appear brittle. A few fraught fibers holding a company, or perhaps a life, together — back and forth, illuminated by fluorescent tubes in an infinity loop. Or a curled orange peel. Don’t let it break.

 

Terry and Dory #1 by Odin Cabal 

Inking! It’s something us premier comics critics here at TCJ probably don’t talk about enough and I’m here to do a little wrong-righting. Cabal shows off that thick ink from the get with his character Terry, in full pirate regalia, lying in the grass on page one. The ground is lush with feathered accents and the kid’s eyebrows look like they took a quarter of a bottle to get down on that page themselves. The two brothers meet a demonic witch figure and Cabal letters in shaky splotches each time she calls their name. Later on, in the large set pieces, the brush strokes can be seen prominently. I love that shit! Artists, please don’t photoshop those out of your spot blacks. The story itself is a fun li’l Umez meets Carl Anderson romp, although with so much to chew on I found it a bit of an afterthought.

There you have it — a smooch to Baby New Year from “Arrivals and Departures.” 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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