Saturday, 27 May 2023

Graphic Novel Review - 'Poison Ivy, Vol. 1: The Virtuous Cycle' by G. Willow Wilson (Writer), Marcio Takara (Artist), Brian Level (Penciler), Stefano Guadiano (Inker), Jay Leisten (Inker), Arif Prianto (Colourist), Hassan Ostmane-Elhadu (Letterer)

A more horror-themed turn with Poison Ivy's character is what gets me back in DC's good graces. Who knew?

After reading the underdeveloped, underwhelming, rushed, poorly-planned out, stupid and broken 'The New Champion of Shazam!' comic run, not to mention the recent convoluted mess of 'Wonder Woman' storylines, I'd seriously begun to think that DC wasn't even trying anymore. Fortunately, G. Willow Wilson and her team of artists showcase their talents in creating the best comic featuring and revolving around Poison Ivy/Dr. Pamela Isley from the main canon in flipping years.

'Poison Ivy, Vol. 1: The Virtuous Cycle' is creepy, horrifying, tragic, yet beautiful, philosophical, introspective, and weirdly kind of sweet and hopeful in some places. Mostly it's bittersweet and sad. But it is consistently entertaining, moves its plot along at an even and dynamic pace, and it leaves you in awe as much as it shocks and disgusts you. It is like a lovingly-drawn road trip story, mixed in with 'The Last of Us' and 'The Sandman'.

Poison Ivy is at her lowest, at her peak, at her end, at both her most powerful/deadly and her weakest. Losing her connection to the Green, the earth's horticultural core, she decides to personify Mother Nature - the nurturer, the healer, the grower, and the destroyer, the rot, the decay, the rebirth, the cycle of life. She aims to spread her lamia fungal spores everywhere she goes, to everyone she comes into contact with, to kill off the human race, including herself, in a last ditch effort to save the earth from certain doom; from the "invasive species" that is short-sighted humanity (and from some unspecified upcoming apocalypse, leading to another DC event, I dunno).

Pam wants to come across as indifferent as nature itself is when it comes to taking and giving life. She is dying from the very spores within herself that she is spreading to others. She is no longer "Queen Ivy". She is no longer one with the Green, but still desperately wants to be its agent. And to top it off, the former godlike being turned lost soul has abandoned everyone she knew and loved before, telling herself that they betrayed her, when they'd tried to save her life and bring her back to herself (long story there).

In that last sentence, "everyone" specifically means Harley.

Harley, the love of Ivy's life. Her one link to her humanity. Her seed of hope for a dying old earth's future where there are living people, renewing and conserving and prospering everything; a hope which she has been trying to disbelieve, denounce, and deny.

When all else fails, faith and love could be the murderous, carnivorous and dare I say cannibalistic Ivy's saviour.

The poor woman's been through a lot. A hell of a lot. Maybe it's time to cut her some slack and let this "villain" save the world, instead of the only-reactive-and-complacent-in-the-system heroes, as she knows true evil and wants to eliminate it. To nip it in the bud, as it were; root out its rotten core, then exterminate the global, systematic, societal disease. Ivy does spare some good and kind people - notably women, women victims, and women who are into gardening - on her killing spore spree, so she still has heart, morals and ethics, as reluctant as she is to admit it.

This comic is also narrated by Ivy as a sort of letter to Harley. A goodbye letter, or a "sorry" and "I love you" letter. It is sweet and tragic, and leaves hope that this couple can and will overcome anything, and will get back together, because they need each other, to quite literally survive.

Because they are Harley and Ivy, and they are forever, even if our home planet as we know it isn't.

'The Virtuous Cycle' is very, strongly LBGTQ and sapphic women-friendly. The dream sequences and flashbacks of Ivy being intimate with Harley (and, slight spoiler, another woman in the present) are gorgeously drawn, and colourful and pretty. The artwork overall is amazing, with no fanservice, thank the goddesses, but the female-friendly (sexual or platonic) moments are striking, breathtaking. I applaud Wilson for writing this, and the artists for drawing these scenes, and DC for allowing it all, and with such rawness, realness, sensitivity and taste. The horror elements are not the only "adult" content in the comic, and there is appropriate, artistic restraint in all presentations (and representations).

Additionally, there is the message of women taking back control and ownership of their bodies in the persistently patriarchal system, like so many recent 'Poison Ivy' stories, which is much appreciated.

I won't reveal anymore here, but I'll say that in conclusion, 'Poison Ivy, Vol. 1: The Virtuous Cycle' is a "supervillainess" comic that, despite everything, despite its overarching themes of conservationism, existentialism, and entropy, there is the bittersweet tinge and tang of hope and love to the whole thing. The people and animals turning into dead husks for mushrooms to grow on may be horrific, but the men in positions of power are even more sordid. It is all about Poison Ivy, and her self-appointed 
genocide/suicide mission, and struggles and trauma (caused by being a woman suffering in the patriarchy 
and by being in the DC universe). Harley may be the key to her ultimate salvation and freedom, but the clown antiheroine isn't in the story much, and Ivy can live without her, for now.

I love how this complex and extremely human woman of the green will go above and beyond to save and sustain the earth - even if it costs her her life - and to help out every fellow woman she meets, along her ecoterrorism way.

Virtuous indeed. A cycle to maintain. Just with no killing of innocents next time, for Queen Ivy.

Like with Marvel, I may give up on consuming DC media for good. I'm so burned out and done with so many things. Well, regardless of what happens from this point onwards, I'm glad to leave it all behind on a high, satisfying note, with the latest run of Poison Ivy's comic storyline, when her character has been mishandled too many times in the past. Come full circle? Never. It's superhero comic books and media, it will never be over, and this chapter of Ivy's life is far from finished.

But I'm happy to leave it - and DC in general - there.

For now.

Final Score: 4/5

Monday, 15 May 2023

Graphic Novel Review - 'The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich' by Deya Muniz

It's 'The Prince and the Dressmaker', but the crossdressing party is genderbent, and there is more aristocracy and monarchy, and while it appears to be historical fiction, it isn't; it is actually set in an alternate world from ours, that has both historical and contemporary elements and features. And there are grilled cheese sandwiches.

Seriously, I officially, humbly, legitimately, regally declare 'The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich' to have the greatest title ever in a graphic novel. I mean, how could I not want to read it after seeing that? Oh yeah, you will want to eat a grilled cheese sandwich after reading it. I'd somehow forgotten until now that that was one of my favourite foods. Though in England we call them toasted cheese sandwiches, or toasties.

'The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich' - I will never get tired of that title! - is a very funny, colourful, sparkly, expressive, anime-esque, so darn rosy (I swear there are more roses here than in 'Revolutionary Girl Utena'!), and overall lovely and charismatic graphic novel. It is about Lady Camembert, who wants independence and fun away from living in a world and system where she'll have to marry a man in order to own her own money, and any money, and any vestige of freedom. The effed-upness of that aside, she just doesn't like men. So before he dies, her count father suggests she disguise herself as a man and move far away to a place where no one knows her, and she'll have to keep a low profile. She does just that after his death.

Well, except for the low profile part.

A social butterfly by nature, Cam can never help herself, and she can't stand being a shut-in and a hermit (unless she's in the mood for it), much to the chagrin of her long-suffering but well-intentioned and forever loyal servant, Feta. Attending an activist ball and making a spectacle of herself is how "Count" Camembert meets and gets mixed up with Princess Brie, of the Fromage nobility, and her company; her friends Lady Ricotta and Lady Gorgonzola.

Leaving aside how practically every character is named after a cheese, along with other foods (how very 'Cucumber Quest'), this is ultimately a high society love story between Camembert and Brie, where Brie thinks Camembert is a man at first (how very Shakespearean dramady), and no matter what, no matter how hard they try, neither of them can get away from or get over the other.

They inhabit a backwards patriarchal system which leaves women with so few less-than-terrible options in life. Maybe grilled cheese sandwiches are the key to bringing this couple together. Maybe a single grilled cheese will do...

'The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich' is set in a weird world that could be set in the 1800s, or any time period that makes you think of the word bourgeoisie, and of Jane Austen and 'Bridgerton', but there exist fridges, modern-style cardboard moving boxes, video games (specifically the Nintendo Switch console is shown), movie theaters, crisps, high tech showers, cameras, and CD boomboxes. Also, people say "gods" in the form of expletives, rather than a single "god".

As well as cheeses, the comic contains a cute puppy; Brie's pet, Gouda. Adorable and funny thing.

There's lots of fashion. Including Vintage Cheddior! Pretty dresses, roses, cheese, a puppy, LBGTQ rep - this piece has a slice of everything!

All the characters are funny and likeable in their own way, but I especially love the childlike, bored, ditzy, sensitive and impulsive gamer girl Camembert and her relationship with the fed-up but motherly, caregiving Feta. The more serious and stoic Gorgonzola is very complex, multilayered and smart, and I love her, too.

The comedic/dramatic/passionate slow burn romance between Cam and Brie is loosely based on author Deya Muniz's relationship with their wife, and it shows.

What a cute, pretty, delightful and hilarious prize! It has all the cheeses! And cheesiness! I want to thank whoever invented cheese, too, Deya! In addition, the artwork is great.

I cannot undersell and understate the w/w nobility rep, seeking to change society and give the less fortunate and privileged hope, either (though admittedly nobody who ranks underneath the middle class is actually represented here).

'The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich' is a positive, colourful, shiny wish fulfilment fantasy, and I can't get enough of it, even though I'm trying to exercise restraint and be more critical nowadays when it comes to liking, indulging in, and guilty-pleasuring princessey media, and any media with the word princess in its title. On the other side of the coin is the grilled cheese! Recommended at once!



"What do you say we have grilled cheese sandwiches with a side of tomato soup?"



Yep. Recommended.

Final Score: 4/5

Sunday, 7 May 2023

Book Review - 'Imogen, Obviously' by Becky Albertalli

'Imogen, Obviously' - such a sweet and simple LBGTQ+ YA read. It can cheer anyone up and get them out of a slump. I know it did that for me.

An endearing, funny cast of queer teens all around - and our POV protagonist is the one straight girl, Imogen Scott. She is staying with her childhood friend, Lilli, in college for the weekend; in the same college she herself will be attending in six months. This World's Greatest AllyTM, who is also shy, soft, organised, slightly introverted, and a chronic people pleaser, will enjoy hanging out with Lilli's new college queer friend group (and her newfound freedom to be herself)… a group which includes Lilli's lesbian dorm neighbour Tessa, with whom Imogen slowly discovers she might not be so hetero after all.

Lilli's friends already think Imogen is bi, thanks to an overcompensating, spur-of-the-moment lie Lilli told, about them being exes (long story), but what if Imogen truly is bi, and she's only now realising it, seriously considering it? Is she only now questioning? Or is this all part of her people pleasing and assimilating mode? Is she being pressured by others, by external influences, towards any direction? She is confused, to say the least.

Sexuality, gender and other aspects that make up our identities are more fluid than we might think, and no one should make assumptions about others, and even about themselves (no invalidating feelings!), as our sweet, cuddly, cardigan-wearing heroine will come to fully understand, at the tip of her coming-of-age story, which takes up a few days, to a week of further personal discovery...

Really, 'Imogen, Obviously' is a feel-good treat, similar to Becky Albertalli's other LBGTQ YA books. There is no bullshit. There are no contrivances, no melodrama, no tragedies, no overblown, calculated and farfetched twists and turns. It's just life. Messy, complicated, but interesting, surprising and amazing life.

There are certainly no cartoonishly homophobic parents, who are then given a free pass and are easily forgiven in the end after all the shit and abuse they say and do to their own queer progeny - these are unfortunately so common in LBGTQ YA novels, and the bluntness of my next statement is necessary: fuck that. Nobody owes their toxic family members anything, just because they're related by blood. The main character's parents in 'Imogen, Obviously' are great (Imogen has an openly gay younger sister, Edith) - they are what we need in fiction and in real life.

This subversion, which should be the norm, is a relief for me. I had been afraid of trying this novel at first, because I didn't want to deal with any more possibly-traumatising-and-triggering-coming-out drama, where the shitty, childish parents who hate their queer children for existing are unrealistically mollified, then gain unearned forgiveness consequence-free, by the story's end, usually solely due to a contrived Bury Your Gays moment, like in 'The Love & Lies of Rukhsana Ali' and 'The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School'. Extremely problematic.

'Imogen, Obviously', thankfully, has nothing like that. But it does deal with toxic friendships, along with other issues affecting the queer community (such as queerbaiting), and it is called out on, carefully never blaming the victim. Whether said toxic friend is forgiven, or is moved on from in Imogen's life in her sexual awakening, is left sort of ambiguous at the end. I won't reveal anything else, at the risk of giving away major spoilers.

Another wonderful thing about 'Imogen, Obviously' is that you don't have to have read anything else by Albertalli in order to fully enjoy it, and get any references. As far as I could tell, there are no 'Simonverse' or 'Creekwood' cameos. I could definitely tell that this was a deeply personal story for Albertalli. It is raw, warm, real, and adorable.

Although, 'Imogen, Obviously' is kind of vague and undefined in some areas, and a few of the limited cast of characters are a bit one-dimensional. Like, what will Imogen study in college? What are her future ambitions? What is anyone studying in college? I know it's spring break, but come on! Imogen and Tessa could have spent more time together, for more than a few days, in the book's week-long timeline, where they mostly DM each other. I read the book in a day and a half - it's so breezy, and it's 416 pages! - so maybe that's why it seemed so fast-paced and light in content for me? Not that that's a bad thing for it. Not that it felt underdeveloped, necessarily. It does work, for its own precious, fluffy entity, unique unto itself. Its own identity is a good, funny, lovely one.

Could have used actual trans rep, though, to go with the other queer identities (example, there's more than one nonbinary rep), and not just pay lip service.

But how could I not fall in love with a book that also references 'The Owl House'!? Oh, and 'But I'm a Cheerleader'. 'One Last Stop' is clearly fangirled over, too.

Noteworthy: Imogen owns lots of animals at home, in a mini-farm, and her parents, as a project at breaktime, are building a pretty shed. Told you the book is adorable!

'Imogen, Obviously' is the LBGTQ+ comfort read. It's far from the perfect book, and it may not be as substantial and deep as, say, 'Loveless' by Alice Oseman, but it's a personal passion project for the author, and its love - and love for the queer community as a whole, in all its forms (I swear nearly every page has the word queer on it) - radiates like a rainbow on every paragraph.

Speaking of Alice Oseman, fans of 'Heartstopper' are sure to love 'Imogen, Obviously'.

If only reality could be like the stories by Becky Albertalli and Oseman. We'd all be a lot happier, and safer, for sure.

I could end the review with a joke that ends with the word obviously, but I can't think of anything. Instead, I'll pass judgement comment on the UK cover:

There is no kind way to say it: It is shit. It is garbage. It is the worst. The US cover is so much better - it is actual art! And it suits the book beautifully. But this? There is absolutely nothing about it that stands out from the other YA books on the market. There is no way to even tell that it's an LBGTQ book. It's just blue. With feet! Feet that could belong to anyone! Is the puddle supposed to be shaped like a heart? It's crap! There are carriage loads of reasons I am not proud to be British, and the 'Imogen, Obviously' UK edition cover has now made the list. Why Harper Collins, why?!

Anyway, moral of the story: Never judge a book by its cover. The story inside remains the sweetest.

Final Score: 3.5/5

EDIT: I'm also glad the book discusses internet/social media discourse surrounding anything in the pop culture media landscape. I try not to follow any discourse. I want to ignore all that drama, as it's usually always overwhelming full of toxic and hateful rhetoric.