Graphic Novel Review - 'Arcana: The Lost Heirs' by Sam Prentice-Jones

A nice, contemporary queer fantasy graphic novel, reminiscent of 'Les Normaux' and 'Doughnuts and Doom', with even a bit of 'Wash Day Diaries', and Marvel's 'Runaways' for older readers.

I like 'Arcana''s motif around tarot cards, and what they represent for each of the key players in the story, and just the overall magic, friendship and found family theme. Nearly every character is so nice and sweet!

These witches - these "lost heirs" - are great as a group. They are wonderfully diverse, and open, understanding and communicative - there are no secrets between them, there is trust, unlike with their shifty older authority figures - and their Halloween party costumes near the end of the comic are fantastic!

There is explicit queer and trans rep, and a character who is referred to by he/him/they/them pronouns; plus a vast array of POC and body positive rep.

The art is adorable, simplistic, colourful and expressive.

And it's a British queer fantasy series!

'Arcana: The Lost Heirs' is a first volume and it ends on a cliffhanger, but I really like these characters, their individual lives, their relationships with one another, and the magic system implemented. Its slowly growing dark mystery is intriguing, too (what exactly is the curse that the young witch team must break?). There is another important theme of breaking and changing archaic traditions and "family legacies" in modern times for necessary reasons, and nepotism, toxic and abusive patriarchal roles, and generational trauma.

Overall, I recommend it for any fantasy lover.

Though, as a sidenote, it is a bit odd for a story about witches and a secret witch society/government/MI6 to not have familiars, or any animal at all present.

Final Score: 4/5

Scribble #152

Diamond Haiku:

Fear an Independent Woman

Whore. Witch.

They call me names,

They sentence me to death.

They wanted to

For a long time before,

As I kept to myself.

I'm different.

Slut. Witch.

Scribble #151

Alice Oseman - Metaphor Haikus

Alice Oseman's books

and comics I so relate,

They give love and hope.

Her works are sunshine

Even through rain and thunder

There is a rainbow.

Always a rainbow

And it shines on everyone,

All flags included.

Representation

Inclusion and love and help,

That's Rainbow Alice.

Scribble #150

A Day in Her Life

My imaginary friend was an ordinary girl named Jane

    How disappointed I am in my younger self for being so unimaginative.

    I could have thought up a unicorn/sea hag hybrid and named her Opalescence, or a witch obsessed with dinosaurs from a magical realm called Tessaraptor, who uses her enchanted jewel to summon dragons as a stepping stone towards her dream of owning a triceratops.

    But no. I went with Jane. I settled for plain Jane.

    She wasn't even a proper imaginary friend. She was a half-arsed convenience and distraction at the school playground whose sole reason for being was to get me through my lonely days, by a) sitting next to me, and b) standing next to me. I was too much of an outcast to even imagine what a "real" friend would be like, and what we would talk about and do together.

    It was a harbinger of what was to become of my life, really.

    My name is Orchid Ness, for whatever it's worth. I mean, with a name like that, combined with a fertile imagination and writing ambitions, you'd think I'd be set: Famous author who sells millions of books, who makes a living out of the limitless ocean of creativity that is my mind; out of which I conjure fresh, exciting forms of storytelling, and put them to paper with my fountain pen, and then I spend weeks or months typing them up, followed by the arduous process of editing them to hell and back, documenting them, and finally selling them to publishers, begging them to recognise my genius and take the financial risk of getting my stories out into the world, for other people to read. A chance to move, inspire, and change lives.

    It did not turn out like that. At all.

    I am in my late twenties and I haven't published a thing, just on my barely existent blog. How fitting that that word sounds so much like blob and bog. I've hardly written anything, truth be told; my life, for all my inward, dreamworld excitement, hasn't offered much in the way of inspiration and motivation in the lucid, outer lake of reality. No, lucid is not the right word, nor is lake: dreary, cold, hard, bitter, bottomless pit of horror, stress, suffering, emptiness and nothingness that is reality should suffice my point.

    One of the lesser reasons for my lacking in the make-my-dreams-come-true department is that, with all the people I've dated - men, women, nonbinary, and other genders - I haven't had sex yet. I guess that, like with writing, I'm scared to. I get too anxious and self-conscious of what others think of me. The judgements, the criticisms, the potential diatribes on how awful - how fundamentally wrong I am. Exposing myself to anything new, challenging, and possibly life changing in the real world, in the here and now, scares me. I'm never as prepared and ready as I rush to believe I am. Every time, my inner fire is suddenly petrified out of me in a single snuff, leaving me alone, cold and compressed in the dark.

    I am a mess. Worse, a mess of nothing.

    No one, no publisher, has had a chance to see what is bursting inside of me, and no lover has had a chance to explore who I am, outside and in. Ecstasy is a myth and mystery to me. 

    Instead, I am numb with ennui behind a cashier at a shop where I don't care for the clothes and don't plan to buy and wear them myself. At this particular retail, everyday is stressful and frustrating - I swear I will die a happy woman if I never have to pick another item of clothing off the dirty tiled floor ever again, same goes for lost pens - my brain making space not for more fantasy and grand, epic stories and characters, but for the droning hum of Think of the money, think of the money, playing on loop.

    How I long to rediscover the passion; the sparkle; the flash; the light to my chronic tunnel vision; the breakthrough and bravery I need to be not only a dreamer and idealist, but an artist in a world that desperately needs them. To just break free.

    To have people who encourage me and believe in me.

Scribble #149

Haikus

Orchid Ness has phoned

She is never without mates

She is close with none.

Nisa No-nonsense

That is what she calls herself

In her noble voice.

Alice Oseman's books

And comics I so relate

They inspire hope.

Scribble #148

Any system that needs human suffering, discrimination, fear, abuse and corruption in order to function is not worth preserving. It is unnatural and inhuman. It should never, ever be normalised.

'Hatred/cruelty is the point' should never, ever be normalised.

Scribble #147

Great Women

Dear Terri,

    Hey! How are you doing?

    I know what you must be thinking: Me?! Never mind me, how are you doing, Mountain Maiden?

    You may flatter me, but climbing Changzheng Ri (Mount Everest is too predicable, don't you think?) to reach zen, clear my mind, and improve my bodybuilding and kung fu skills - it pales like useless, fragile ice crystals in comparison to your firefighting and actually saving lives in LA.

    And I do mean firefighting in the literal sense, as you are a superhero. A superhero, imagine! You're finally there!

    Emberess! It is so, well, cool wouldn't be the right word, would it? How about hot? Scorching? Bright? Inspired? Enlightened!?

    Well, whatever, the point is you are far more impressive than me, though you must admit I am getting by splendidly without powers, and will hopefully come back stronger, faster, and smarter than ever after my trek through the freezing mountains.

    It is a godlike task just to keep warm and never run out of food up here. That reminds me, I never want to see another dry protein bar for a very long time after this.

    Oh, should I have started this letter calling you Emberess, instead of your real name? Who knows who might intercept and read these. Villains have mastered the art of being too predictable yet dangerously, scarily unpredictable at the same time these days. They are certainly growing more daring, ruthless, and sociopathic.

    Anyway, I'm cold, I can no longer feel my fingers and toes, I'm hungry, and I'm enlightened and all-knowing (except for what is going on outside of this isolation, hence the letters). And I'm missing my husband, my daughter, and you.

    I really hope this gets to you soon, and you can write back to me, permitting any of the monks will allow any personal correspondence from the outside world. I've written to Ken already, and I'm expecting a full five-page account of everything our little Sage is doing, pictures included - photos and her hand drawn masterpieces cleverly disguised as doodles. I want to see how she's taken to another kind of art, too. Oh Sage, following in her mommy's footsteps. Getting a kick out of martial arts.

    Mom jokes aside, I want the details of what has been going on in your life since I departed to China on my quest for enlightenment. Who you've saved, how you are with your powers, and how things are with Lydia. I hope Ella isn't pushing you too hard.

    Remember, your fire is your spark. It is a part of you. It is your gift. It is who you are. And you are more than Emberess, though she is you, and you are her. Together, you are whole.

    Be proud. And I am proud of you, no matter what.

    (Ooh, am I becoming enlightened already? Or maybe it's the cold and hunger delirium writing. Frostbite and famine are no joke.)

    Stay strong, stay safe, and stay super!

    Super you! With self-care! (Better than me right now!)

    Love, Lola

    P.S. I'm thinking of conquering the Tian Shan mountains, Mount Kailash, Kunlun Goddess Peak, the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, Pumori, and Lhotse in the following years. I might even take Sage with me.

Dear Lola,

    It is great to hear from you!

    Yes, I got your letter (safely and securely), and I can write you back (safely, the monks guarantee it), as you're climbing those mountains and reaching pure zen.

    I really needed your words of encouragement, and I thank you. Truth be told, I still get anxious. I'm still a little afraid of my powers. It can never be overstated enough how big a responsibility being a superhero is, especially when you have pyrokinesis. You are always expected to save everyone, but when you can light a fire or fuse with just a wayward thought and sudden, confused emotion, you are more likely to kill than save anyone. I have to be extra cautious when rescuing people from burning buildings (which, to clarify, I am not the cause of any of them), and even getting a cat down from a tree is a fire hazard for me.

    Ella has been firm but fair with my training, and things have been going well with dear Lydia.

    Lydia. She's a genius, constantly inventing new tech to help me keep my powers in check whenever I have anxiety attacks. Her non-claustrophobic - and sleek and slick! - suits are improving all the time. Yet her presence alone burns me, but in a deep, feelgood, exhilarating way. She causes my heart to race, safely and smoothly. She calms me, and makes me happy.

    Pun coming up, apologies in advance: Lydia warms me. She warms me more than my powers do. Suits and tools in hand, she assists me in managing them, with no fear, no hesitation, and no complaints. She cares for me, maybe more than her inventions. She sees me. I am so lucky to have this bright, shining, beautiful star in my life, when I most need her.

    You are right, I am Emberess. She is me and I am her. She makes me whole (though of course Lydia makes me feel whole on a deeper, subterranean level).

    I wonder, what do you think your superhero name will be? Mountain Maiden sounds epic, but it's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? You wouldn't have time to announce it dramatically before a villain kills you and nearby civilians.

    Oh, and I am keeping touch with Ken and Sage. They are receiving your wonderful letters, too. Little Sage is as shy and unsure of herself as I am, but she's strong, and she perseveres, just like her mom.

    Oh, could Mountain Mom be your super name? Or Mighty Mom, for simplicity? Or maybe no attention should be brought to you being a mom, secret identities and all.

    Thanks again for your amazing words. You're amazing.

    I know you will save the world some day, and make less of a mess of it than I could ever pull off.

    But you are already a hero. All mothers are heroes. All women are heroes. All women are magnificent goddesses.

    Good luck on your quest, and come home soon, Lady Rock.

    (Oh wait, that sounds like the distaff counterpart to a wrestler, doesn't it? How about Lady Ice? Too soon? Oh my godesses, what about Geode?! Just Geode! You can see the symbolism there, can't you?)

    Love, Terri, aka Emberess!